"Then do it."
There's no tease in his voice. No challenge. Just warmth and worry, steady enough that I hate how badly I want to lean into it. I take the bite from his fingers because refusing would require more energy than I have. The food tastes better than I expected, and my body responds with a hollow twist of hunger that makes shame rise hot beneath my ribs.
Luther notices that too. Of course he does.
His hand comes to my throat, not gripping, just resting his thumb beneath my jaw where my pulse is beating too fast. He counts it silently, his eyes fixed on my face. "How long has your head been hurting?"
"It's not that bad."
"That wasn't an answer."
I swallow, and his thumb moves with the motion. "Since before dinner."
Grayson's fingers tighten gently in my curls, his other hand sliding to the back of my neck. "Blake."
There's too much in my name when he says it like that. Hurt. Frustration. Love I can't file into anything useful. I look away from him and toward the closed laptop, but Luther steps into the line of my sight, blocking it with his body.
"No," he says, low and absolute. "You don't get to leave yourself in that deck."
My mouth opens, then closes. I want to tell them they don't understand, but they do. That's the worst part. They understand enough to stop me before I can make the argument sound noble.
"They keep making it sound almost right," I say finally. "That's what gets under my skin. It's not all wrong. The deal could help. The game could be bigger than anything we've ever done. Ember House could stop living quarter to quarter. Luca wouldn't have to hear estimates and wonder how much of the company I'm burning to keep his sanctuary alive."
Grayson's hand leaves my hair and slides down to my shoulder, his palm broad and warm through my shirt. "Luca doesn't think you're burning the company for him."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
The question settles between us, quiet and too accurate. I take another bite from the piece of sandwich because Grayson'sstill holding it there, and because Luther's thumb hasn't left my pulse.
"They called me a creative asset," I say, and the words scrape more than they should. "Not in the deck exactly, not where I can point to it and say look, there, that's the insult. It's worse than that. It's everywhere. Luther is authority. I'm brilliance that needs to be managed. Ember House is impact. Luca is authenticity. Everything we survived becomes softer when they name it, easier to sell."
Luther's expression hardens, but his hand stays gentle. "Then we make them understand the answer's no unless the language changes."
"And if they change the language?" I ask. "If Maceo fixes the clauses and Dorian smiles and Victor stops looking at you every time governance comes up? What then?"
"Then we decide as a pack."
My laugh comes out thin and tired. "That sounds so simple when you say it."
"It's not simple." Luther bends closer, his hand sliding from my throat to the back of my neck. "But it's also not yours to solve alone."
I close my eyes, and that's a mistake, because the moment I can't see the room, I feel them both too clearly. Grayson beside me, his thigh pressed to mine, his fingers drawing slow lines through the hair at my nape. Luther in front of me, steady and warm, his scent deepening in a way that tells my body to stop bracing even while my mind keeps reaching for the laptop.
"I'm not trying to carry it alone," I lie.
Grayson's mouth touches my temple. Not quite a kiss at first, more like a point of contact, a place for my attention to land. Then his lips press there with deliberate tenderness. "You're sitting in the dark with a headache, an untouched dinner, anda merger deck that makes you feel like a decorative part of the company you built."
I breathe out through my nose. "When you say it like that, it sounds unhealthy."
"It is unhealthy," Luther says.
I open my eyes to glare at him, but the glare doesn't survive the way he's looking at me. Not angry. Not disappointed. Focused in that careful, devastating way that always finds the fracture before I can hide it.
"You're not useful to us because you build things," Luther says. "You're not central because Keller Industries needs you. You're central because you're ours. Before the company. Before the game. Before Ember House. Before every problem you keep trying to turn into proof that you deserve to stay loved."
The room goes painfully still.
