Page 124 of Knotting the Firefighters
"Except now you're stuck with him anyway. Stuck with me. Stuck in a pack dynamic that demands vulnerability you're not ready to give. So you lash out, make everything difficult, push people away before they can hurt you first."
The silence that follows is profound—everyone processing my aggressive psychological assessment, the room heavy with tension that could explode into violence or revelation depending on Aidric's next move.
Silas sighs—a long-suffering sound that communicates years of mediating exactly these kinds of conflicts.
"This is going to be a rowdy couple of weeks," he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in a universal gesture of exasperation.
Bear's laugh breaks the tension—a warm, genuine sound that somehow makes the situation feel less catastrophic.
"It's going to be hella entertaining."
His grin is infectious, enthusiasm about the chaos is evident in every line of his expression. Because apparently Bear views our dysfunction as entertainment rather than crisis, finds amusement in the territorial posturing and emotional warfare that's clearly going to characterize our immediate future.
Hella entertaining.
That's one way to describe the absolute disaster our lives just became.
Another might be catastrophic.
Or overwhelming.
Or completely unsustainable if we can't figure out how to function as an actual pack instead of a collection of damaged individuals with incompatible communication styles.
But looking around at them—Calder still standing close with proprietary hand in my hair, Aidric maintaining aggressive distance while clearly fighting urge to flee, Silas radiating professional calm that's definitely masking concern, Bear practically vibrating with enthusiasm about future chaos?—
Maybe entertaining is exactly right.
Maybe this particular brand of disaster is what we all need.
Maybe four broken Alphas and one traumatized Omega can somehow forge something functional from an absolute mess of conflicting needs and unresolved trauma.
Or we'll implode spectacularly within weeks.
Providing entertainment for everyone while simultaneously destroying ourselves.
It could go either way, really.
Bear's continued laughter fills the space, warm and bright and completely at odds with the gravity of our situation.
And despite everything—despite the panic, the confusion, the overwhelming magnitude of permanent bonds formed while unconscious—I find myself smiling.
Because he's right.
It's going to be hella entertaining.
BORROWED CLOTHES AND NEW BEGINNINGS
~WENDOLYN~
Istand before the hodgepodge collection of borrowed clothing spread across my bed, hands planted firmly on my hips while I contemplate the absolute absurdity of my current wardrobe situation.
This is ridiculous.
Completely, utterly ridiculous.
Bear's t-shirt dominates the arrangement—amassive garment that could probably house a small family, soft cotton that smells overwhelmingly of maple syrup and chestnuts. The fabric is worn in ways that speak of years of use, comfortable rather than presentable, clearly never intended for public wear.
It's going to hang on me like a tent.
