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“Thank you for being there. For protecting Idril when I couldn’t. Knowing she had you—even for a little while—means more than I could ever explain.”

Soren inclines his head. “Nothing in this world could have pulled me from her side.”

Caelan shakes his head. “It’s not just that. It’s the fact that you trusted her. She hasn’t had anyone to stand by her side since her mother died. For me… It was the first kind of hell knowing she was defenseless and alone even if I had no say in the matter.”

Caelan’s words are heartfelt and honest.

I hate them.

They may as well be a fucking bullet through my chest. I can hear every Fatesdamned word he isn’t saying.

‘My Pack didn’t trust her. They didn’t believe her. They didn’t stand by her when she needed them the most. I trusted them, and they betrayed us both. They hurt her when they should have protected her.’

Vae leans over and hangs his head in his hands, shame radiating off of him in waves. I reach out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shakes off my touch.

“Vae, I⁠—”

“Stop, Daxen. Just… fuck off, yeah? I don’t want to hear any more of your fucking facts or logic.”

I flinch.

“I trusted your bullshit ‘evidence,’ when I should have trusted my instincts. Now look.”

A fist appears around my lungs and squeezes. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Are they both just going to take every opportunity they can to remind me of how bad I fucked up? Can’t they see I’m already fucking struggling?

I was so fucking sure. So fucking confident.

And the one time it mattered the most, I got it wrong.

Astronomically, horribly, life-alteringly wrong.

I can tell myself this is the first time something like this has ever happened… but is it? Have I fucked up before? Gotten things wrong despite believing with everything in me that I was right? What other decisions have I made without considering my own biases and how they were affecting my thinking? How many times have I fucked up like this, and how many others have suffered for it?

The Omega—oblivious to my internal meltdown-turned-crisis—whispers my name, yanking me back down to earth.

“Daxen.”

Once again, she’s on Caelan’s lap. I’m the only one still standing, fingers gripping the wood of the chair back like that’ll save me from this hell I’ve wandered into.

I turn, giving her my attention but refusing to speak in case something comes out I don’t mean.

She clears her throat and her hands reach for the hem of her shirt, fingers winding and twisting in the fabric.

A coping mechanism.

An attempt to self-soothe when she’s scared. Hurt.

The fist around my lungs tightens. My throat feels like it’s fucking closing. I glare at those delicate fingers, pale and chapped from the chemicals we’ve made her use to clean.

Stop. Fuck, please stop. I can’t watch this anymore.

“Will you please sit, so we can tell Caelan what happened?”

Her voice shakes when she asks. Her fingers twirl, twist, and pull at the fabric. Tighter and tighter, her anxiety increasing with every silent second that passes while waiting for my answer.

Caelan bends down. Presses a gentle kiss to her temple.

“It’s my father,” she says. “The Omegas and what he’s doing to them. The fire, and…” She turns, glancing at Caelan over her shoulder.