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Cade followed, grateful for the momentary reprieve from maintaining his alpha facade. Once they were out of earshot of the remaining guests, Vivian turned to face him.

“You’re all handling this poorly,” she said without preamble.

Cade’s eyebrows rose. “Straight to the point as always, Aunt Viv.”

“Would you prefer I waste time with pleasantries?” she countered.

Cade stiffened. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing explicit,” she admitted. “But I’ve known that boy since he was eight years old. I recognize the look of someone searching for an exit.”

She softened slightly, placing a hand on his arm. “He’s frightened, Cade. Not of you three, but of what this means for his future. The independence he’s fought so hard for.”

“We would never cage him,” Cade said, the very thought making his wolf snarl in protest.

“Perhaps not intentionally,” Vivian agreed. “But three alphas can be… overwhelming. Especially to someone who’s spent his life trying to prove he doesn’t need protection.”

The truth of her words stung, but Cade couldn’t deny them. From the day they’d found eight-year-old Finn covered in his parents’ blood, he’d seen only what needed protecting, not the strength that had allowed Finn to survive in the first place.

“What would you have us do?” he asked, genuinely seeking her counsel.

“Give him time,” she said simply. “And space. Show him that being your mate doesn’t mean losing himself.”

A burst of laughter from the great room reminded them of the party still in progress. Vivian straightened, once again the perfect hostess and business partner.

“I should return to our guests,” she said. “Just remember, Cade—Finn has survived more than most. He’s stronger than you think.” Then she was gone, slipping back into the crowd with graceful efficiency.

As the party began to wind down, each brother found themselves cornered by their respective “companions”—women from allied packs who had been part of their arrangement for years. Rebecca with Keir, Melissa with Logan, Elise with Cade. Arrangements that had been necessary during the long wait for Finn to reach maturity, to help control the overwhelming urge to claim their underage mate.

Through their bond, they felt Finn’s devastation as he watched these interactions from across the room. Felt his heart breaking as he misinterpreted everything—seeing rejection where there was only duty, seeing disinterest where there was desperate restraint.

End it now, Cade commanded through their bond.

But it was too late. By the time they had disengaged from their companions, explaining that the arrangement was over, Finn was already fleeing up the stairs, his pain so acute it cut through their bond like a physical wound.

Stop him, Logan urged, already moving toward the staircase.

No, Cade held him back mentally.Not like this. Not when he’s raw and we’re surrounded by guests. Tomorrow, when it’s just us.

He thinks we’re rejecting him. Keir’s internal voice was anguished.He thinks we don’t want him.

We’ll fix it, Cade promised, though doubt gnawed at him.Tomorrow.

But as the last guests finally departed and the three brothers gathered in Cade’s study, they could feel Finn’s pain radiating from upstairs—feel him crying himself to sleep, Keir’s jacket clutched against his chest like a lifeline.

And through their bond, they caught fragments of his thoughts, each one a knife to their hearts.

They don’t want me.

I’m not enough.

I need to leave.

They’re stuck with me.

The crystal tumbler in Cade’s hand shattered, sending whiskey and glass shards across imported Italian marble. Blood dripped from his palm where the glass had cut him, but he barely noticed.

“He’s planning to run,” Logan growled, pacing the study like a caged predator. “I can feel it.”