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Drew snorted into his orange juice. “Yeah, that’s definitely the problem,” he muttered, earning dark looks from the brothers.

“Nothing,” Cade said smoothly, recovering first. “Just glad to see you enjoying your breakfast.”

But his scent told a different story—one that my fox parts understood even if my human brain refused to acknowledge it. Desire. Hunger. Need. All three brothers were broadcasting it, and my body was responding in ways I couldn’t control, my own scent probably betraying me completely.

An awkward silence fell over the table, broken only by the sounds of cutlery and the occasional whine from Boba, who remained convinced I might share more bacon if he stared pathetically enough.

“So,” Drew finally said, clearly taking pity on me, “what’s on the agenda today? Besides Finn’s impromptu cosplay session?”

I kicked him under the table, but he just grinned.

“Actually,” Cade said, his tone shifting to what I privately called his ‘alpha voice,’ “we need to talk. All of us.”

My stomach dropped. This was it—the conversation I’d been dreading since yesterday’s ceremony. The one where they explained how we’d deal with this inconvenient mate bond without disrupting pack dynamics. Where they’d assure me nothing had to change, that we could go on as before, pretending the universe hadn’t played this cruel joke on us.

“About what?” I asked, trying to sound casual even as my tail wrapped tighter around my waist.

“About last night,” Logan said bluntly. “About the ceremony. About everything.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered, pushing my plate away as my appetite vanished. “Should be a fun chat. ‘Sorry fate stuck you with your little brother as a mate, how awkward for everyone involved.’”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. When I looked up, all three brothers were staring at me with expressions I couldn’t quite read—something between shock and… anger? Their scents had shifted again, turning sharp and acrid with an emotion I couldn’t identify.

“Is that what you think?” Keir asked. “That we’re ‘stuck with you’?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as my heart raced. “What else would I think? You all looked like someone had announced a terminal diagnosis when Elder Miriam revealed the bond.”

“That’s not—” Cade began, but I cut him off.

“It’s fine,” I said, pushing back from the table. My ears were flat against my head now, my tail tucked between my legs again. “Really. I get it. No one wants their adopted brother as a fated mate. Especially not one who can’t even control his own shifting. It’s cosmically unfair to all of us.”

I stood up, needing to escape before I embarrassed myself further. “Thanks for breakfast, Elena. I’m going to go… try to fix this.” I gestured vaguely at my ears and tail.

“Finn, wait,” Logan called, but I was already heading for the door, my pets reluctantly abandoning their food prospects to follow me.

“Let him go,” I heard Cade say quietly. “We’ll talk when he’s calmer.”

As if that would ever happen. As if there was any conversation that could make this situation less painful, less humiliating, less hopeless.

I made it halfway up the stairs before the tears started falling, hot and unwelcome, down my cheeks. Behind me, I heard the patter of paws—all three pets following, loyal despite my obvious disaster status.

When I reached my room and collapsed on the bed, they joined me—Mochi curling against my neck, Pixel settling on my chest, and Boba flopping dramatically across my legs, whining softly.

“Go away, guys,” I mumbled into my pillow, even as I reached out to scratch Boba’s ears. “I want to be miserable in peace.”

They ignored me completely, as pets do. Mochi began grooming my fox ears, Pixel started purring loudly, and Boba just sighed contentedly, apparently deciding my existential crisis made for a perfect nap opportunity.

“Why couldn’t they be stuck with someone else?” I whispered to my furry audience. “Someone worthy of three alphas? Someone who can actually shift properly, who knows how to be a proper mate?”

Pixel’s purring intensified, as if trying to drown out my self-pity.

“It’s not fair to them,” I continued, the words spilling out now that I had a nonjudgmental audience. “They’re perfect. Strong, powerful, beautiful. And I’m… this.” I gestured at my ears and tail, which still showed no signs of disappearing. “A half-shifter who can’t even control his own body.”

Boba snorted, as if disagreeing.

“It’s true,” I insisted. “You saw them last night with those women. That’s what they deserve—confident, beautiful wolf shifters who understand their world. Not me.”

The worst part wasn’t just that they didn’t want me—it was that my body seemed determined to torture me with wanting them. Every touch, every scent, every look sent waves of heat through me that I couldn’t control. The mate bond was already affecting me physically, making me hyperaware of them in ways that were going to make living under the same roof unbearable.