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Logan’s hand tightened slightly on Finn’s ankle, completing the circle of contact. Through their bond, they shared the simple pleasure of the moment—their mate, safe and content between them, exactly where he belonged.

When the credits finally rolled, Drew yawned dramatically and stretched. “Well, that’s me done,” he announced, eyeing Finn’s sleeping form with amusement. “I’ll leave the baby brother transportation to you big strong alphas.”

“Very considerate,” Keir drawled, but his eyes were on Finn, his expression softer than usual.

Drew shuffled off to his room, leaving the three brothers with their sleeping mate. For a long moment, none of them moved, reluctant to break the peaceful tableau.

We should get him to bed, Cade finally said, though his reluctance was clear.

You take him, Logan replied, carefully lifting Finn’s legs so Cade could stand.He’s already comfortable with you.

With a gentleness that belied his size, Cade gathered Finn into his arms. The kid mumbled something incoherent, nuzzling closer to Cade’s chest without waking, his tail curling around Cade’s arm in unconscious trust.

The sight hit Logan like a physical blow—their mate, small and vulnerable in Cade’s arms, fitting so perfectly it seemed impossible they’d ever been separate beings. This was how it should be. This was right.

Don’t, Cade warned, catching the direction of Logan’s thoughts.We agreed to give him time.

I know, Logan acknowledged, though his wolf snarled in protest.Just… take care of him.

Cade carried Finn to his room, leaving Logan and Keir in the living room, the silence heavy between them.

“This is getting worse,” Keir said quietly, running a hand through his hair. “Every day he’s here…”

“I know,” Logan agreed, his voice rough. “When he was at school, at least he wasn’t under our roof most of the time. Now…”

“Now we’re in constant torture,” Keir finished. “Seeing him every day, unable to touch, to claim.”

“We’ll manage,” Logan said, though he didn’t entirely believe it. “We have to.”

They made their way upstairs, passing Cade in the hallway as he closed Finn’s door silently behind him.

“He’s asleep,” Cade reported, his expression a mixture of tenderness and frustration. “Didn’t even wake when I put him down.”

“This is going to kill us,” Keir said quietly.

“No,” Cade replied, his voice firm despite the strain evident in his eyes. “This is going to make us worthy of him.”

Logan said nothing, but as they each retreated to their separate rooms—alone, when every instinct demanded they stay with their mate—he knew sleep would be impossible. The memory of Finn’s body, the feel of him pressed against Logan’s chest, the way his tail had curled around Logan’s leg… it was all too vivid, too recent.

He stripped off his clothes and opened the French doors to his balcony, letting the cool night air wash over his heated skin. Then his body began to shift, bones cracking and reforming as he surrendered to his wolf.

The massive mahogany-red wolf leaped from the balcony, landing silently on the manicured lawn below. Within moments, two other wolves joined him—Cade’s golden form and Keir’s sleek blond figure—and without a word between them, they ran for the forest.

They would run until exhaustion claimed them, until the need for their mate was dulled enough to allow them a few hours of restless sleep.

And tomorrow, they would begin the torture all over again.

But Finn was worth it. He would always be worth it.

Chapter 9

I’d been avoiding the brothers for a month—thirty-one days of ducking around corners, inventing projects that didn’t exist, and spending more time in my studio than probably qualified as healthy. My fox features had finally decided to behave, mostly, though they still had an annoying habit of appearing whenever one of the alphas got too close or looked at me with that particular intensity.

The art school applications had become my secret project, my potential escape route from this supernatural mess I’d been thrust into. Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York—I’d applied everywhere, hoping at least one would offer me a lifeline. The rejections from the East Coast schools had already started arriving, exactly one month after my applications—far faster than normal processing time. I tried not to think about what—or who—might be behind that.

“We need to talk, Finn.” Cade had cornered me in the kitchen three days ago, his voice doing that authoritative thing that made my stomach flip in ways I refused to analyze.

“Sorry, I promised Elena I’d help with… something,” I’d mumbled, slipping past him before he could stop me. It wasn’t my most creative excuse, but it had worked. They all had—thesudden headache, the forgotten assignment, the urgent need to reorganize my paints by viscosity. I was running out of excuses, and they were running out of patience.