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Worse - they can, too.

Thealphas.And probably the OMB.

Any minute now, someone’s going to throw me in scent-jail or hand me a registration form and a lifetime of supervised snuggling.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, hot and angry. I blink them back.

I don’t cry. I don’t fall apart.

I’ve spent seven years planning around this. Every dose, every precaution, every back alley clinic with a shaky ceiling and no questions asked.

I built a wholelifeout of self-erasure.

And all it took to undo it was one night. One too-tight dress.

One stupid sparkler birthday cake and an invitation to a work event from a beta best friend who has no idea she dragged me into a nuclear trap.

My skin’s on fire.

My blood is trying to escape through my ears.

My entire lower half is staging a coup.

And I know the Mask is gone. I can feel it slipping sideways, melting into memory.

Even my name feels distant now. Blurred at the edges.

Not quite mine anymore.

A sound escapes my throat - quiet, hoarse. Not a sob, not fear - not even frustration, butrage.A pressure-valve hiss ofare you fucking kidding me.

And then, I feel it.

A presence approaching - certain and slow.

My spine goes rigid as the air thickens.

I don’t move, even though I want to. I want to back away, to hide, torun- but I can’t. Instead, I stay perfectly still, trying to push against the fog in my head.

The wrong kind of awareness burns under my skin, louder now. The part of me I’ve kept buried claws its way forward, whispering things I don’t want to hear as instinct flares.

It's not fight or flight. It's something worse.

Something primal.

Submit. Yield.

Let go.

Absolutely fuckingnot.

I’ve spent too long building this life, too long clawing out a space that belonged to me, not them.

I don’t want their protection. I don’t want their claim.

Not Ash. Not Kai. Not Theo.

Definitelynot Lucian.

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