Isobel wiped her sweaty hands on her shorts, staring at the door to Dorm A. Kilian had left clothes and toiletries in her hospital room—she knew it was him, because they carried his earthy bergamot and bark scent. After showering, washing her hair, and dressing in small cotton shorts and a long-sleeved sweatshirt, she felt much more like herself. Even if the sweatshirt was Kilian’s.

There was a light sheen of perspiration dotting her skin from the slow, easy walk to Dorm A, even though Theodore had ambled along beside her slower than she had ever seen him walk before. Whenever she tried to speed up, he had touched her elbow to slow her down again, completely ignoring the students who stopped in their tracks at the sight of them, phones whipping up to snap pictures. She didn’t catch any of their whispered words, but the Vermont attack—as Teak had put it—was probably big news. Bonded people were important to the Gifted, and Isobel had never even heard of a bond infraction or soul infraction before, let alone known of it happening in the time she had been alive. Granted, her only source of gossip had been the human news, and they didn’t particularly bother with what happened in the settlements, only what happened at Ironside.

Theodore looked down at her, not pushing her to enter the dorm. “Doing okay, Illy?”

She turned her head up to him, her lips curving, her smile tremulous. “Nope.”

His expression was drawn, his Alpha ring shrinking to a thin, gold line. He was holding back so much emotion and he was so good at it, but now that they were alone and there were no cameras watching, she could see the cracks. She could feel them, too. His energy was sneaking out like a whip to crack lightly against her skin. It was sharp, electric, and restless. She rarely felt Theodore’s power like a physical force, likely because he had spent his entire life trying to escape it.

“Say the word and I’ll take you back to your dorm instead,” he offered.

“I want to be alone for a while, but I don’t know … if I can.”

“Say the word and I’ll crash on the floor with you.”

“It’s a bed,” she defended.

“It’s a floor. With blankets.”

She scowled at him, and his attention snapped to her lips, the storm in his eyes darkening, roiling, as he watched her nose scrunch and her lip curl. Despite the intensity in his eyes, his smile threatened to appear.

“Isobel …” He rumbled out her name, the hint of his smile dropping away. He scrubbed both hands over his face, wiping away all traces of joy. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” she said, kicking the toe of her sneaker against the rocky ground.

“For hiding it from you,” he pressed.

“I know.”

“It’s not enough.” He sounded frustrated. “You should slap me. Call me names. Never speak to me again. For a day,” he quickly tacked on.

She snorted. “Two days.”

“Day and a half.”

“A week,” she said. “Final offer.”

“You’re negotiating in the wrong direction.” He backed her into the door before she realised what was happening, his hands on her hips. His body was trembling suddenly, his eyes full of turmoil. “Don’t speak to me for thirty seconds.” His voice had lowered to something resembling a warning, something that begged her to back away … but he had her cornered.

And he was warm.

And he was Theodore.

She lifted her chin, accepting the challenge, and his eyes flitted to her lips again. A short groan tore its way out of his throat. “I should be giving you physical intimacy to help ease the bond,” he said.

He hadn’t stopped touching her since she woke up. She furrowed her brow, showing her confusion. Twenty-three seconds and counting. The grip around her hips pinched tighter, his expression suddenly torn.

“We can’t push it too far. In either direction.” He sounded so agonised, the words guttural. One of his hands released her hip to lift her chin, tilting her face up. She could feel his breath against her lips, choppy and harsh. “I’m going to help you get through your first night alone, okay?”

She had already forgotten that she was supposed to not be talking to him, but she didn’t have any words anyway. Her mouth was dry, her throat tight, her hands shaking. Her whole body was tingling in fear and anticipation. Fear, because Theodore was untouchable. He was the most approachable, the most personable, the one with all the friends, the one people gravitated toward and championed. But Isobel suspected it was all an act, and that would make him the opposite of all the things he pretended. It would mean she didn’t really know him at all.

He waited for something, his thumb brushing along her lower lip from one corner of her mouth to the other, dragging the flesh slightly as he increased the pressure.

Every slow, measuring caress sparked something to life low in the pit of her stomach, eventually making her squirm. He hovered closer when she moved, every plane of his body pushing up against hers. She could feel how hard he was just from touching her mouth and everything suddenly seemed connected, their bodies triggering a cycle of responses in each other. His thumb pressed between her lips, catching on her bottom teeth, tugging her mouth open only slightly. Her stomach clenched hard. His erection pulsed, and he lowered his mouth over hers, not releasing her or making any move to kiss her. Some of his sharp, crackling power eased from her skin, but the goosebumps along her arms remained.

“Do you want help? Or do you want to do it on your own?” he whispered. “Should I tide you over? Fill you up enough that you can last the night?”

She made a small, begging sound. It was all she could do with his thumb in her mouth. It seemed like a strings-free offer … like he really was a surrogate instead of her actual mate, and that allowed her to be in the moment, to not think too hard about what he was offering.

It didn’t really mean anything.

He slipped his thumb out of her mouth, replacing it with his lips, and she melted, just like she did every time he touched her. He controlled the kiss right from the start, using his grip on her chin to angle her face, tasting her slowly and sweetly until she felt like she was drowning and only his strong body anchoring her against the door was keeping her upright.

She grew restless, but he kept the same maddening pace, scrambling her brain. She tried to move, to push against him, to tug his shirt and quicken the kiss, but he only nipped at her lips for the effort. She half expected his skin to start glowing or another chain to magically appear, but something didn’t feel right inside her. Something deep within her was hurting, and while Theodore’s touch was tunnelling her into a nerve-wracking cloud of lust, there was something deep down that was still broken.

She was on her own with this. No magic to siphon away her inhibitions and make her brave.

So when his hand brushed over her stomach, pushing her back just far enough to draw the oversized shirt up, bundling it above the hem of her shorts, she suddenly found that she couldn’t breathe. He paused, his breath rough against her lips, and she realised he was debating whether to stop.

“More,” she whispered. He was holding back too much. She was burning up from the inside and he was far too controlled. She hated it.

He issued a throaty growl, inching his face back as he considered her.

“You sure?”

“M-more.” She tugged on his wrist to try and bring him closer, or to pull his arm around her, but instead, his fingers pushed into her shorts.

She hadn’t been prepared for that. She just wanted him to feel as out of control as she did, but as soon as his fingertips slid into her panties and brushed her clit, she realised it was exactly where she needed him. Anyone else might have tried to ease her into having their hands down her pants … but not Theodore. He liked to shock her. He applied a little bit of pressure, watching the colour flood into her face as she clutched nervously at his arms.

“Stop pushing my arms, Illy. I can’t risk feeling how wet you are.” He groaned the words, nipping at her chin before kissing her. His lips pressed harder this time, his tongue demanding more from her as his fingers gently circled the bundle of nerves, increasing the pressure until she was squirming. It was like he already knew her body inside and out. Like she was an instrument and he had been practising her studiously for years and had already been awarded some kind of diploma.

What she wouldn’t pay to see him not automatically succeed at something.

He watched her every reaction, changing the pressure and position and cadence of his touch with every shift in her expression or hitch in her breathing. He took her right to the edge and then suddenly stopped, cupping her sex gently and leaving her there to float and pant into his lips.

“Okay?” he rumbled, even though she was soaking the pads of his fingers and clutching his shirt so tightly she was almost tearing it off his wide chest.

It gave her a moment to level out the emotions raging through her, the furnace burning beneath her skin. She swallowed, tears burning behind her eyes, her nerves frayed.

Everything was frayed.

Her heart felt like it was in a tattered mess, unravelling all over the place and Theodore was letting her use him to overwhelm her senses, to ignore the clutter and fill her mind and body with a heat so scorching it barely mattered if she was unravelling or whole … but he wouldn’t let her escape entirely. He was bringing her back just far enough that she was still there, still with him.

He nuzzled her cheek, inhaling her scent, and she nodded.

“Fuck. My perfect girl,” he praised, low and rumbling, his wet fingers drifting back up to where she needed them, massaging her swollen bud until she was lost again, teetering on that same edge. “You’ve never looked so beautiful, Illy.”

The drop on the other side wasn’t so scary, this time.

Which was a good thing because he didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath again. As soon as she reached the precipice, he pushed her right off the edge without a warning, sending her into a dizzying, delicious wave of stuttered heartbeats, unsteady fluttering, and the pain-pleasure of her whole body clenching.

She wanted to scream, or cry, or pull him as close to her body as she could get him, but she didn’t have the strength. His whole body was vibrating when she blinked the black spots from her eyes, her throat hoarse even though she was sure that she hadn’t uttered a single word. He pulled his hand out of her shorts and gently adjusted them again on her hips, letting her oversized sweatshirt fall. She was limp against the door, a gentle hum taking up residence beneath her skin.

“How do you feel now?” he rasped, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. He adjusted himself, his jaw clenching, his eyes flashing. When he dragged his fingers out, they were no longer glistening with her dampness.

For some reason, her body clenched again, really liking the fact that he had smeared her essence over his cock; it made a sharp, possessive feeling spear through her chest. It was just right. She was almost panicked at the thought that he could have walked away without doing that.

“I feel …” She swallowed, trying to stand straight again and trying to shove away her strange and intrusive thoughts. “Steadier and unsteadier.” She laughed softly. “More grounded and more freaked out.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” The words seemed to slip out in accidental Alpha voice, and he winced, quickly amending, “Shit. I mean … please, don’t be embarrassed. You suffered a soul infraction. You need a little extra soothing. It’s natural.”

She nodded, chewing on her lip. It felt puffy and tender. “And you’re … I mean … you’re okay with—”

“Seriously. Don’t.” He grinned at her, his smile stretching wide and disarming, his perfect teeth flashing brilliantly. “I offered to be a surrogate. I knew you would need me to touch you.”

“I didn’t know.”

He scoffed. “Give me the signal and I’ll make sure you only have to suffer through one of us.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “I’m talking about me, by the way.”

“And have the rest of you accuse me of tearing the group apart and picking favourites?” She frowned at him, the pleasant buzz inside her not abating in the slightest. “You saw what happened when I asked Cian to continue surrogating for me.”

“Mhm. A conversation for another time, I think.” He carefully arranged his expression. “Ready to go inside? They can’t fuck with the cameras this time. It would be too suspicious.”

“So how are we going to talk?” she asked, confused. “Why would Kalen call for a group meeting?”

“Because five of his Alphas are actively stepping in to nurture your bond while the officials scour the countryside for your true mate, and because you’re about to be moved into Dorm A, which makes you one of his charges. A little Sigma-Alpha.”

She scoffed, the laugh leaving her unwillingly. “Right. I thought we were going to talk about …” She swallowed, unable to continue.

“We’ll talk about the attack.” He brushed her cheek lightly. “Just remember to be careful with what you say, that’s all.”

It should have been weird and humiliating to continue a normal conversation after what he had just done, but instead, it felt natural. Theodore made her feel comfortable, easily side-stepping between the role of “surrogate,” and friend.

They entered the common room quietly, glancing around the empty space before Theodore took her hand and tugged her toward the stairs. The Alphas had dragged two of the seating areas together on the rooftop, forming one long table with enough chairs for all of them. Moses was in the kitchen, holding a glass pitcher of water when they reached the top of the stairs.

His nostrils flared, flicking between Theodore and Isobel, and then his grip loosened on the pitcher, leaving it to shatter against the floor. Theodore ignored him, steering her toward one of the free chairs. The rest of the Alphas seemed confused by Moses—who stood as still as a statue—until she reached the table, and then they all reacted at once.

Easton pounced to his feet, backing away from the table and swearing under his breath. Kalen was gripping the edge of the table so hard she heard the groan of stone cracking. Reed and Spade both twitched, their eyes slamming into her, their nostrils flaring. Niko shoved his chair back, muttering about the broken glass as he escaped to the kitchen. Sato, who sat at the far end of the table, arched a dark brow at her, a heavy question in his onyx eyes. Cian rubbed his mouth like he was swallowing back a laugh.

Kilian was the only one who didn’t do anything weird.

He strode over to her and captured her into a tight hug that pulled her feet from the ground. When he set her down again, he suddenly whirled on Theodore, snatching his wrist and pulling Theodore’s hand up between them.

“Wash your hands before you eat,” he said silkily, his tone hiding an undercurrent of sharpness.

Isobel went white, finally realising what everyone was reacting to, but as mortified as she was, the comfortable feeling of her blood singing happily through her veins pushed her to shrug off their stares and sit down. Kilian immediately claimed the seat beside her, tucking her beneath his arm, his nose brushing her hair.

“You smell happy to see us,” he said.

“Shut the hell up.” She elbowed him.

He chuckled, dragging her closer. The others stared at the two of them like they were speaking a foreign language.

“Well.” Easton cleared his throat, glaring at Theodore for several awkward and prolonged seconds before pulling out a seat opposite Isobel. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“So awake,” Cian drawled, flashing her a wry grin. “Super switched on.”

“You can also shut the hell up.” She glared at him, before shyly flicking her eyes to Easton’s tie. “And um, thank you, Professor.”

There was a light scoffing sound from the other side of the table. She wasn’t sure who it came from, because the others were still moving around. Niko and Moses brought over half a dozen dishes from the kitchen before Moses picked up Theodore’s chair, dragging it—and Theodore—away from Isobel. He inserted a chair between them and sank into it, shaking his head at his brother.

Theodore wasn’t even paying attention. He was loading his plate up with food like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Easton continued, ignoring the Kane twins.

“What happened to them?” The question almost exploded out of her. She had been waiting to ask it since she opened her eyes in the hospital.

“Them?” Kalen demanded. The whole table stilled. Moses dropped something else. More glass shattered.

“Someone else was there?” Sato snarled. “Nobody else entered the house. We were watching. Eve didn’t mention a second person in her confession and her confession was enough to get her ki—” He paused, his eyes flicking to the side, almost like he was seeking out one of the cameras. “Enough to get her into trouble,” he revised. “So we assumed she wasn’t lying.”

Isobel curled her fingers around her fork, her stomach suddenly churning as she gazed at the food laid out before her. “There was a boy. I can’t remember his name. He was leaving the house when I came in, then he must have looped around and entered through the back.”

“I remember him,” Cian said. “Tall, dark hair, had a look on his face like he was smarter than everyone else. Wore an old motorcycle jacket—”

“Aron,” Kilian croaked.

Another glass exploded, Easton cursing as he shook out his hand.

“Aron?” Cian’s voice was heavy with dread. “As in—”

“Yes.” Kilian swallowed, all of the animation suddenly seeping out of him, his eyes taking on a vacant look. “My ex.”

“He’s not even a student …” Moses trailed off as Kalen stood from the table, pulling out his phone and searching for a number before raising it to his ear and walking away.

“And now he’s as good as dead,” Kilian said, still staring blankly at the table.

“Eve already confessed.” Moses frowned over at Kilian. “Why was Aron even there?”

Isobel swallowed, peeking at Kilian. He didn’t just look emotionless. She couldn’t feel anything from him. Nothing at all. Somehow, that seemed worse than feeling a terrible, heavy pressure against her chest.

“They were both convinced that Kilian was my mate,” she said carefully.

“Why would they think that?” Niko asked, his eyes razor-focussed on her. She had never seen them so clear, the earthy green and rich brown hue blending together, binding her attention so well that she forgot to blink, tears springing up at the strain it took to hold his gaze.

I told her. I broke my promise. This is all my fault.

“I … messed up. I thought she was my friend.”

Niko leaned forward, drawing her further into that forest-green oasis, his power wrapping around her so subtly that she barely realised he was exerting his influence until it draped her like a second skin. “Why would she think that Kilian is your mate?” he repeated, his voice soft.

It would be too easy to lie. To claim that she had nothing to do with it. She could even use the cameras as an excuse.

But they were the liars. Not her.

“Because I told her everything,” she said evenly. She let that hang in the air for a moment before she warped the rest of the story for the cameras. “Everything I wanted to believe, anyway. I told her Kilian was my mate because I wished he was. I don’t want my real mate. I don’t know who he is. But Kilian is nice to me. He cares about me. And he probably wouldn’t ever make me complete the bond because he isn’t into girls.”

She sagged back against her chair, dropping her fork and crossing her arms. They were quiet. Kilian didn’t even act like he had heard her. He was still staring at the same spot on the table.

“That … wasn’t wise,” Easton finally said, as Kalen returned to the table.

“That was really fucking unwise,” Moses growled, always the first to rip away a sugar-coating.

“I’m aware,” she gritted, before tamping down on her defensiveness. They had warned her not to tell anyone, and she had promised she wouldn’t. But knowing that she was technically in the wrong didn’t make apologising any easier. “I’m sorry.”

Kilian pushed away from the table, avoiding looking at anybody. “I’ll … be … I’m just— I need a minute.”

She pushed her chair back to follow him, but Moses dropped his fingers to her thigh, barely even touching her as he shook his head, his frown deep and frightening.

Cian stood, his expression troubled as he swept his eyes quickly over the table. He looked like he was about to say something before he changed his mind, striding off after Kilian.

“You should eat.” Easton assessed Isobel as the silence around the table grew deeper, more unsettling.

She stared at the food piled onto the table that nobody else was reaching for, hearing the words Easton didn’t say.

He wanted her to eat so that she could leave.

She moved to push back her chair again, but Moses repeated the same motion as before, his fingers tapping her thigh, pulling her up short.

“Eat something,” he suggested.

No Alpha voice.

She pushed her chair the rest of the way back and slipped away from the table.

Theodore fought back the urge to stop Isobel as she took several steps away from the table, and then several more, just to make sure she was out of arm’s reach of anyone. The tantalising, syrupy scent that he had managed to foster into a heady perfume only ten minutes ago was already gaining a bitter edge, shrinking back into her veins until he was no longer beating back the need to do something incredibly stupid in front of nine of his closest friends.

It was bad enough that he had covered his fingers in her syrup and spread it over his dick. That was a completely unhinged thing to do, and it was the reason he was still half hard. Even now. Probably forever. Despite everything.

He noticed Niko relaxing slightly and Elijah’s shoulders inching down. Kalen and Mikel no longer looked like they wanted to throw themselves off the rooftop … but a different kind of tension had descended, and none of them seemed to know exactly what to do with it. The situation was bad—Isobel might have just blown their cover entirely—but none of them were angry at her. At the situation, yes, but not at her.

Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to realise that.

“I’m really sorry,” Isobel repeated, staring at the ground with a frown. There was only so much she could say, even though she had moved away from the cameras.

She was struggling, fighting for the words, but it didn’t matter. They knew what she was apologising for.

“Did you tell anyone else these … stories?” Kalen asked.

Well now Theodore wanted to shove him off the rooftop.

Except Kalen would only say that this was Theodore’s fault. They had all told him right from the start that they couldn’t trust her with their secrets when they barely even knew her. There was too much on the line. But they were also the ones who had lied to her first, and there were ten of them. There was only one of her. They all had each other and she had no one.

Were they really going to be dicks just because she wanted one friend on her side?

For the love of all things holy, keep your damn mouths shut.

He glared at them one by one.

“No. I didn’t tell anyone else.” Isobel’s scent was a cherry tree shoved through a woodchopper, splinters and dust flying everywhere, ripe juice running through the gears until it was oily and tainted.

Kalen was treating her like one of his Alphas. Asking the questions necessary to do damage control before he focussed on the emotional side of things—or let Niko or Kilian focus on the emotional side of things. Theodore just hoped Isobel wouldn’t think he was angry at her. Kalen seemed like he was angry all the time, but she would only need to see him truly angry once to know the difference.

Isobel straightened slightly, her eyes flashing up to Kalen’s before flicking around to the other faces. “The assault wasn’t my fault. They had it planned. They had their suspicions, and they were going to torture me no matter what I said. Eve has been torturing me since I came here. I was just too stupid to see it because she’s right. I’m gullible. I believe everything you tell me.”

Her eyes flicked to Theodore, her stare landing harder than the slap he had told her she should give him.

There it is.

Despite the hollow pain he felt at her disappointed expression, he was glad she had said it. He nodded slightly, showing that he understood what she was saying, and some of the lines digging into her forehead eased.

“You’re right.” Gabriel stood from the table, tossing down his napkin. He wasn’t going to eat the food anyway. Not with how many glasses had shattered and the possibility that a shard might have landed on his plate. “Eve was already targeting you. All the students named by her in the attack before spring break are all on camera in different locations. They have solid alibis. She lied to you and the officials. I don’t know who attacked you, but it wasn’t her usual group of Delta friends. The only person at Ironside with a recorded ability to create darkness and shadow is a second-year Beta, Kiki Rayne. As for the other thing … ignore Moses. He’s just worried about Kilian.”

Isobel sat up a little straighter, shocked at Spade’s defence of her. She watched as he grabbed a bread roll and began to walk off, thinking that he was following Cian and Kilian … except he paused at the stairs, looking at her. “Come on, puppy.”

She hurried over to him, so grateful for the escape that she could have hugged him, but he probably wouldn’t have liked that. So instead, she just followed him quietly.

“Are you making sure I don’t try to talk to Kilian?” she asked, as they passed by the door to his room.

Spade didn’t answer, just handed her the bread roll and kept walking.

“Eat,” he suggested as they rounded the lake.

The bread tasted like cardboard and her hands were shaking again, but she obeyed, nibbling it slowly as they walked.

When they were halfway back to Dorm O, he finally sucked in a short breath, slipping her a quick, sideways look. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. “Honestly? Not too bad right now.”

“Orgasms will do that. Sex will do more—but I would have to very strongly advise against that.”

She choked on her own saliva and almost tripped over her own feet but at least they were outside and the cameras likely couldn’t hear what they were saying. The students passing on either side of the path, however …

Isobel glanced back at them wildly, but they seemed to be too busy trying to snap pictures of her and Spade—as he caught her elbow to steady her—to have been paying attention to what he said.

“I’m not even going to touch that,” she eventually said. “But thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime.” He kicked a rock out of his way, slowing his pace when she grew tired. “You’re inexperienced. You might misconstrue things.”

“I haven’t misconstrued anything. Theo told me why he was doing it.”

“Oh?” Spade seemed to smile a little. “Good for him.”

“Spade? This is weird.”

“Gabriel.”

“Yeah, I reckon he’s weird too.”

His smile twitched a little wider, but then he licked his lips, and it was gone in a flash. “Let’s be friends, Isobel. I want to keep an eye on you.”

“That’s a terrible reason to propose friendship with someone.”

“It’s not my only reason.” He slowed further and then turned suddenly to the right, forcing her to turn with him so that he wouldn’t collide with her shoulder. He steered her toward the edge of the lake, where there were fewer people, and then took a seat on the solitary bench overlooking the water, his gaze turned toward the dock that she was uncomfortably familiar with.

He tapped the bench beside him, and she sat, tucking her cold hands between her thighs and rolling her lips together, choosing to look anywhere except the dock.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked.

“Because you need to catch your breath. Your heart rate is too high. I can see your pulse jumping in your neck. Even with Theo’s … assistance, this is still your first night out of the hospital and you went immediately into a high-stress situation instead of the bond-soothing activity with several of your surrogates as Elijah had planned.”

“Okay.” She kicked her shoes, enjoying the brush of her soles against the wooden planks. “So what’s the other reason you want to be friends if it’s not just to keep an eye on me?”

“I have two best friends who share a single defining quality. They have sacrificed greatly for me. You exhibited the same quality. By my definition, we’re already close friends. I’m just making it known.”

She stopped kicking her legs, her brow furrowing. “Um … I don’t think I—”

He dropped his head to the side, suddenly giving her his full attention, and the sentence died on her lips.

“You have sacrificed,” he assured her. “Deliberately, though not mindfully.”

“Yes.” She studied his face, trying not to wither under that much attention. “I deliberately but not mindfully sacrifice myself for people all the time. It’s my thing.”

“You’re supposed to use a different tone of voice when expressing sarcasm.”

“Are you a dictionary?”

“Try a mocking intonation. If you forget to make it obvious in the moment, you could add a chuckle at the end.”

“Oh my god.” She gazed at him. “You’re malfunctioning.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. A blond strand of hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it back, patting the side of his head to make sure all the other strands were in place before he let his attention drift back to the lake. He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle, his arms wrapped over his chest, his hands tucked in on the opposite sides.

“It’s just a theory …” He lowered his voice until it was almost inaudible. “But I think you’re absorbing most of the side effects that we should be getting. I think it’s an extension of your Sigma power.”

“Sounds about right,” she muttered, not nearly as surprised as she should have been. “Did you feel it, when …?”

When they tore out my light.

She didn’t want to say it out loud, but Gabriel seemed to understand. His mouth immediately tightened, his arms bunching like he had suddenly formed fists.

“Yes,” he gritted quietly. “But nowhere near what you would have felt. That’s not normal. We should have been incapacitated like you. You took more than your fair share. If anyone suspected any of us were your mates before, that suspicion has now decreased dramatically. We should have been hospitalised right alongside you. Elijah thinks we’re sharing the Anchor side effects evenly amongst ourselves, spreading it thin. I think it’s more than that. I think we’re sharing it with you, and I think you’re taking more than us.”

She shivered, and he surveyed her slowly.

“Let’s go. You need to rest.” He stood, stretching out his neck to the left, and then the right, that same lock of hair falling out of place again. He tucked it back into line with an annoyed flick of his fingers and started to walk in the direction of her dorm, expecting her to follow.

Oscar sat on the very edge of the rooftop—one long leg hanging and the other notched on the stone edge—long after Gabriel returned home. Mikel came up to find him after checking on everyone else. He could be like an ill-tempered mother hen with a mauled face sometimes.

“Need a session?” Mikel asked, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes trained steadily on Oscar.

“Those aren’t for me,” Oscar shot back. “Remember the part where we get paid at the end of them?”

Mikel rolled his eyes. “I’d prefer you try to beat me up, rather than the alternative.”

“What alternative?” Oscar challenged, swinging back over the ledge, and walking toward the professor.

Mikel scrubbed a scarred hand over his face, obviously frustrated at not being able to speak his mind. The camera trained on them was too close, now that Oscar had approached him.

“You hurting someone else,” Mikel finally gritted out lowly, before turning on his heel and stalking back to the stairs. “Go to bed, Oscar.”

Alpha voice.

Oscar grunted, falling still as he fought off Mikel’s influence. It was heavy and solid, like iron. It took him a good few minutes and a deal of discomfort, but then he was free to do as he liked, shedding the heavy power that had tried to wrap around him.

And he quite liked the idea of hurting somebody.

A very particular somebody.

His tread was light, silent, as he prowled downstairs, opening the door to Theodore’s room. He reached the sleeping Alpha in a few easy strides, launching onto his torso and capturing his right hand. Oscar slammed the captured hand down onto the pillow beside Theodore’s head, whipping a tactical pen knife from his back pocket and extending the blade to rest against the fingers that still faintly carried Isobel’s scent.

The memory of sticky cherry syrup thick in the air had black spots dancing before his eyes, and he wrested for control over himself.

The Sigma was fucking his.

Theodore had woken up at some point, but had quickly stopped fighting, and now kept himself very still, his breathing measured, his eyes narrowed and watchful.

“Oscar.” He sounded miraculously calm, his voice raspy with sleep. “Didn’t realise you felt that way about her.”

“She’s mine,” Oscar snarled, pressing the blade harder against Theodore’s skin.

He didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Theodore didn’t even flinch. “You want her? Want to date her? Want to take her to the movies on Ironside Row? Want to shake her asshole daddy’s hand and fetch her coffee in the morning just the way she likes it?”

“I kissed her first,” Oscar growled, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. Something wasn’t right. He felt unhinged—more than usual.

Theodore’s words were registering, but barely.

Fuck no, he didn’t want to do those things.

Shake her daddy’s hand? More like rip her daddy’s arm off and use it to backhand him until his face turned purple and blue.

“You resuscitated her,” Theodore corrected. “Moses kissed her first. But I saw her first.”

The door flew open, the light switching on. Moses stood in the opening, his sharp nose probably picking up the hint of blood in the air.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, getting an eyeful of whatever deranged look was on Oscar’s face and the blood dribbling down Theodore’s hand to soak into his pillow before he backed out of the room.

Oscar dismissed the open doorway, turning back to Theodore. “Touch her again and I will cut off your fingers.”

“Then I’ll touch her with fucking stumps,” Theodore growled back. “I didn’t …” He gritted his teeth, flicking his eyes to the doorway and lowering his voice. “I didn’t bond her, asshole. I just helped ease the side effects.”

“Oscar,” Elijah snapped, striding into the room, Moses and Gabriel close behind him. “Look at me.” The door clicked shut behind them.

“Piss off,” Oscar snarled. “I’m busy.”

“You need to level out,” Elijah said. “You’re surging. Focus, Oscar. Get your head in the game.”

Surging.

Dammit.

Surging was bad. Surging meant he had to stop whatever he was doing.

But he really wanted to cut Theodore’s fingers off.

“Theo isn’t a threat,” Elijah continued, his voice calm, deep and resonant. The know-it-all fuck. “He’s one of us. Part of the group, part of the pack. Family. Look at him, Oscar. He’s family.”

“He can be family without his fingers,” Oscar grunted, the feral, ragged edges of his mind smoothing over slightly. He pulled back, retracting the blade and recapping it.

Theodore finally winced in pain, clenching his fingers into a fist. “You’ve got a screw loose, Oscar.”

“What triggered you?” Elijah asked, pulling out his phone, ready to take notes.

Oscar breathed in deeply, resisting the urge to snatch Elijah’s phone out of his hand and punch it through Theodore’s teeth.

“I think that part is obvious,” Theodore grumbled, waving his bloodied fist before turning his glare back to Oscar. “Dude, get off me.”

Oscar shoved against Theodore’s chest, finding his feet, and running his fingers agitatedly through his hair.

“It might be obvious, but I need to hear it from him,” Elijah countered. “And I need to hear it in detail.”

“He touched her.” Oscar jerked his thumb back at Theodore, who was now reaching under his bed for a first aid kit.

“In detail,” Elijah repeated irritably, tapping away at his phone screen.

“I could give you details,” Theodore offered, slapping the kit between his legs, and rummaging through it. Despite his mocking tone, he didn’t expand on the offer.

Smart move.

“Not those details.” Elijah glared at them both through the lenses of his reading glasses. “What exactly triggered you, Oscar? And what did the surge feel like?”

“You know what?” Oscar gripped the top of Elijah’s phone, pulling it down from his face. “It felt just like how I always feel like.”

“So … significantly unbalanced.” Gabriel pulled his own phone out, making notes while Elijah stared back at Oscar with an infuriatingly patient expression.

“Yeah.” Oscar smirked at him. “Like that, but with less of the usual nonsense holding me back.”

“How different was it from your surge in Isobel’s hotel room during the break?” Elijah asked.

“Well, I didn’t want to fuck Theodore,” Oscar admitted, completely deadpan.

“Wait, what?” Moses frowned, looking between them all. Theodore was making a low, grumbling sound. “You surged around Isobel?”

“Yes,” Gabriel answered for Oscar. “When the chain appeared.”

“Why don’t I know about this?” Theodore demanded, springing from his bed, the first aid kit forgotten.

“Because you’re not her nanny,” Moses shot back, annoyed, before he shifted his attention to Elijah and Gabriel, who both seemed to be perfectly aware of everything. They had probably written half a research paper on it and were waiting on further data to finalise their hypothesis.

“The surge in the hotel room was because you found out Isobel was hurt,” Elijah said, reading from—yep, his notes. “And this time, because someone else touched her.”

“Proprietary aggression.” Gabriel sighed.

“Should have known it would be a problem with him,” Elijah agreed. “He doesn’t have a lot to his name.”

“Don’t fucking need this.” Oscar began striding for the door, but Elijah quickly stepped in his way, holding up his palms.

“None of us need this.” Elijah gentled his tone as he took off his glasses and shoved them into his pocket. “But I warned you all what would happen with so many Alphas living together in such close quarters. It was manageable before …”

“Isobel,” Gabriel supplied.

Elijah shot him a narrow look. “I know her name.”

“Then use it.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Oscar interjected, making his tone sound bored when it was actually highly entertaining to watch the wonder twins split their shared brain cell in half to trade barbs.

“It was manageable before Isobel,” Elijah ground out. “We need to get this under control before we all spiral. You.” He jammed a finger into Oscar’s chest. “Up your training time. Up your sparring time. Don’t back down until someone’s bleeding. We need to get your aggression under control.”

“Was planning on it anyway,” Oscar responded in the least aggressive tone he could be bothered to muster. So … his normal tone, really.

“I’ll write up a new schedule for everyone.” Elijah sighed, nudging his reading glasses back on and moving around Oscar to reach for the door. “I think we’re going to need to add an extra small group session with Mikki.”

“Fine by me.” Oscar shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

Elijah gave him a narrow-eyed look before opening the door and waving at the hallway. “After you.”

“No, after you.” Oscar gave his best imitation of a smile.

Gabriel snorted. “We aren’t leaving you alone in here, Oscar.”

“Fine,” Oscar snapped. “I was hoping to spare all your delicate sensibilities, but …” He strode back to the bed, snatched up Theodore’s hand, and snapped two fingers back as the younger Alpha tried to get away.

The break was nice and clean.

Hardly aggressive.

“Sweet dreams, everyone.” Oscar grinned around the room, striding for the door.

The violence eased something inside him, and he couldn’t help but feel a spark of admiration for Theodore, who managed to not make a single sound and was still holding onto an ominous silence.

Hopefully, he was planning revenge.

That could be fun.

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