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Four is safer.

Four means they might murder each other with snark before they get the chance to ruinme.

I force a breath down into my lungs and say, voice rough but steady, “They stay.”

Lucian turns, his expression like I just asked to bring a live raccoon on a private jet. “You need stability,” he says, like it’s a diagnosis. “Not a circus.”

“Then why do you look like the ringmaster?” Kai chirps.

“I needallof them,” I say, my voice louder this time, ignoring the way the words make Kai do a slow, dramatic double take like he just heard I called him essential.

“Hell yeah you do,” he grins, clearly delighted.

Ash doesn't speak, but his mouth tightens into the kind of line that saysfinally, someone’s making sense.

“She’s right,” Theo says, holding me closer. He’s calm, firm - classic emotional support golden retriever, now with bonus biceps. “You can’t drive and keep her stable. She needs contact. She needs control.”

“She needs snacks,” Kai adds under his breath. “And probably therapy. But sure, let’s start with a cuddle pile.”

Lucian turns that nuclear gaze on Theo, but the man doesn't blink.

Stone, that one.

“And she needs eyes,” Ash chimes in next, voice low and firm. “More than two. You’re not taking her solo - not with unknowns still circling.”

Lucian’s nostrils flare.

The man looks like he’s trying to decide between throwing a tantrum or buying a third yacht.

Then Kai opens his mouth, and the gods sigh.

“Also,” Kai offers, raising a hand, “I’m definitely not letting the scariest omega I’ve ever met ride off alone with someone who looks like he uses spreadsheets to sort his feelings. No offense.”

Lucian turns his glare on him, sharp enough to skin a soul, but Kai beams like it’s a compliment.

“Just saying. You give off strong ‘won’t let you touch the thermostat’ energy.”

Ash sighs. “This isn’t about comfort. It’s protection. And she doesn’t trust you alone.”

The tension holds, tight as a rubber band.

Then Lucian looks at me again, jaw clenched so hard I swear I hear his teeth file themselves.

I meet his stare, unflinching.

“I want them,” I say simply.

A long beat.

Then, Lucian exhales like he’s personally offended by compromise, steps back from the SUV door, and gestures with the resignation of someone letting a toddler eat crayons.

“As you wish.”

It’s short. Sharp.

The verbal equivalent of slamming a filing cabinet.

But it’s permission.

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