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And Keir—charming, beautiful Keir—was surrounded by a group of admiring women near the bar, his golden head thrown back in laughter at something one of them said. He looked like a young god, casually elegant in designer jeans and a blue button-down that made his eyes seem even brighter.

My chest ached just looking at them. How was I supposed to pretend everything was normal when my entire world had shifted on its axis?

“Stop staring,” Drew murmured. “People will notice.”

I tore my gaze away, focusing on my drink. “I’m not staring.”

“You’re practically burning holes through Keir’s shirt. Not that I blame you—he does look particularly edible tonight.”

I choked on my punch. “Drew!”

“What? I have eyes.” He grinned. “Besides, now that we know you’re their?—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off sharply. “Don’t say it. Not here.”

His expression softened. “Sorry. Come on, let’s get some food. I’m starving, and Cade went all out with the catering.”

The next hour passed in a blur of small talk and forced smiles. I played my part—the grateful birthday boy, the youngest Sinclair, the artistic one. I accepted compliments on my arts and deflected questions about my shifting progress. All the while, I was hyperaware of the three alphas moving through the room, never too far from me but never approaching directly either.

Until Cade materialized at my side just as I was contemplating a third helping of sushi.

“Having a good time?” he asked, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign that things had changed between us. There was nothing—just the same steady blue gaze, the same slight smile he always had when addressing me. As if this morning had never happened.

“It’s great,” I lied. “Thanks for… all this.”

He nodded, reaching out to ruffle my hair in that infuriatingly brotherly way that had always made my heart race. “Only the best for our little fox.”

The casual touch burned through, made worse by the new knowledge between us. Did he feel it too? This electric current that seemed to flow whenever we were close? Or was he just better at ignoring it?

“Right,” I managed, stepping back slightly. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint the guests.”

Something flickered in his eyes—confusion? Hurt? But before he could respond, Logan appeared at his shoulder.

“Problem at the gate,” he said quietly. “Security needs you.”

Cade nodded, his expression shifting to alpha mode. “Stay inside,” he told me, the command unmistakable in his tone.

“I’m not a child,” I said automatically, the familiar irritation rising. “I can handle myself.”

“Just do as you’re told, Finn,” Logan said, his voice gruff but not unkind. His hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “It’s probably nothing, but let us do our job.”

Their job. Protecting me. Their obligation. Their burden.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Go play security. I’ll just stay here and cut my cake like a good little birthday boy.”

Logan’s lips twitched. “Brat,” he said, but there was affection in his tone as he followed Cade toward the front of the house.

I watched them go, hating the way my body seemed to ache at their absence. This was ridiculous. Nothing had changed. They were still treating me exactly the same—like their annoying little brother who needed protection and guidance.

“You okay?” Drew asked, appearing at my elbow with a fresh drink.

“Peachy,” I said, taking the cup and draining half of it in one go. “Just loving being treated like I’m five instead of nineteen.”

“They can’t help it,” he said, nodding toward where Keir was now chatting with a stunning redhead. “It’s in their nature to protect what’s theirs.”

“I’m not theirs,” I said sharply, even as something inside me howled in protest at the words. “And that’s not protection—that’s control.”