Page 106 of His Drama Queen

"We didn't know that!" Robbie's voice is frustrated. "We thought—Vespera, put yourself in our position. You disappear for six weeks. Won't answer calls. Won't tell us where you are. The last time we saw you, you were running from them. Now you're here, in their house, and you're telling us everything's fine? How are we supposed to believe that?"

It's a fair point. I look at Dorian, whose jaw is tight with barely controlled aggression. At Oakley, who's standing too still, ready to move if needed. At Corvus, whose calculating gaze hasn't left Robbie's face.

"Show them," I say quietly.

"What?" Dorian's voice is sharp.

"Show them." I turn to face him fully. "Show them how things have changed. Prove to them that I'm not some helpless victim who doesn't know what she's doing."

Understanding dawns in his ice-blue eyes. For a moment, he wars with his pride, his Alpha instincts that want to fight, to prove dominance through aggression.

Then he drops to his knees beside my chair.

Stephanie gasps. Robbie's mouth falls open.

"Holy shit," Robbie breathes.

"She's not our captive," Dorian says, his voice steady despite the submissive position. "We're hers. And everything that happens in this house happens because she allows it."

I run my fingers through his hair, the gesture casual, claiming. "Do you believe him? Or do you need more proof?"

Stephanie is staring like she's watching something impossible. "I... Vespera, what happened here?"

"What happened," I say carefully, "is that I spent six weeks teaching three entitled Alphas that consent isn't optional. That claiming someone doesn't make them yours. That if they wanted me, they had to earn me." I look at each of them in turn. "We're not fixed. We're not healthy. This probably qualifies as deeply fucked up by any reasonable standard. But it's my choice. My terms. My control."

"Your control," Robbie echoes, still staring at Dorian on his knees.

"My control." I meet his eyes. "They kidnapped me. Held me here against my will. Pushed boundaries that should never have been crossed. And I could have run—there were opportunities. I could have called for help. But instead, I stayed. And I broke them down the same way they tried to break me, except I did it better."

"That's..." Stephanie struggles for words. "That's not healthy."

"No," Corvus says quietly. "It's not. But it's honest. Which is more than most pack dynamics can claim."

"You're still worried," I say, watching Stephanie's face. "You're still thinking this is some kind of elaborate trauma response."

"Of course I am!" Her voice cracks. "Vespera, six weeks ago you were terrified of them. You rejected their bonds. You fled to another city to get away from them. And now you're acting like this is all fine, like they're your devoted servants?"

"Not servants." I stand, and Dorian rises with me, staying close but letting me lead. "Pack. On my terms. With my rules. And if they break those rules, I leave. But they won't break them. Will you?"

"No," all three say in unison.

Stephanie stands too, her coffee untouched. "I came here to save you. I drove three hours thinking I was going to have to physically remove you from a hostage situation. I've been practicing what I'd say to them, how I'd stand up to them for once in my goddamn life." Her voice is shaking. "And you're telling me you don't need saving."

"No," I say softly. "I don't. But six weeks ago? At school? When I was sick and scared and being hunted? That's when I needed you, Steph. That's when I needed my best friend to be brave."

The words land like a slap. She flinches, tears starting to spill over.

"I know," she whispers. "I know, and I will regret that for the rest of my life. I was so fucking scared, Vespera. I was terrified they'd come after me next, that I'd lose everything if I stood with you. So I chose wrong. I chose my comfort over your safety, and I will never forgive myself for that."

"But you're here now," Robbie says quietly. "Even thinking you might be walking into danger, you came."

"Because it was too late before, and I didn't want it to be too late again." Stephanie wipes her face. "I've been trying to make up for it. Standing up to people on campus who were talking shit about you. Telling anyone who would listen that what happened to you wasn't okay. I know it doesn't fix anything, but I needed you to know that I'm different now. That I won't run again."

I study her face, seeing the genuine remorse, the fear, the desperate need for forgiveness. Part of me wants to stay angry, to make her suffer the way I suffered. But I'm tired of anger. Tired of pain.

"The police," I say. "You really called them?"

She nods miserably. "They're supposed to be here in like fifteen minutes."