Page 193 of Bound By Song

My knees hit the floor with a crack. I barely feel it.

I don’t scream.

I don’t cry.

I just fold in on myself.

A broken shape in the ruins of my safety.

Dane’s arms are around me seconds later, pulling me into his lap like I weigh nothing. He wraps himself around me, whispering over and over like a chant, like a spell:

“We’ve got you. We’ve got you. We’re going to fix this, little wildflower.”

“But it was mine,” I whisper, voice barely audible. “It was mine and they ruined it. They ruined me.”

Xar stands in the doorway, eyes like fire under ice. His voice is hoarse. “They didn’t ruin you. They didn’t take you. And they never will.”

Blaise drops beside me, silent, trembling. His forehead presses to mine, and in the closeness, I smell cedar and smoke, the sharp tang of fury barely leashed.

We stay there for a long time.

The four of us in the wreckage.

A pack curled around the heart they tried to shatter.

The next morning, the world explodes.

Not with fire.

Not with screams.

But with headlines.

“Honey Unmasked: The Mystery Omega Is Back – and Living With The Band.”

The photo isn’t clear, but it doesn’t have to be.

Me, tucked into Blaise’s side, leaving the hotel. My face tilted up toward him, trusting. Vulnerable. His hand around my waist like I belong there. Like I always have.

The article spins theories like cobwebs. One thread links me to Honey through voice comparisons. Another pulls photos from my past. They dig, claw, speculate.

They don’t need to say it outright.

They’ve already decided it’s me.

My phone buzzes nonstop until Dane tosses it into a drawer and shuts it with a thud.

The rest of the house is silent.

I sit at the kitchen table, wrapped in one of Dane’s sweatshirts – too big, sleeves swallowing my hands. My mug of tea sits untouched, gone cold. I stare at the swirling milk cloud frozen at the bottom and wonder how long I can stay like this before it curdles too.

I feel them before I hear them.

Blaise leans against the counter. Xar perches on the edge of the sink. Dane sits beside me, his hand a steady pressure on my knee.

They’re waiting for me to break.

But I don’t.

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