Page 27 of His Drama Queen

"Somewhere safe."

"Bullshit." She grabs the bedpost for support. "Where?"

"The family lake house. Forty miles from anywhere. Your phone's dead, no one knows you're here, and even if you could walk—which you can't—there's nowhere to go."

She takes it in. The locked windows, the medical equipment, the closet I know she hasn't seen yet but will.

"A prison."

"A hospital."

"Same thing when the patient doesn't consent." Her hand goes to her throat where the rejection marks burn angry red. "You can't—this isn't—"

"Your consent became irrelevant when you chose death over us."

She flinches. "My choice."

"A stupid choice."

"Still mine."

There's something in her eyes—desperate, cornered. She starts talking about her mother, words spilling out like she needs to say them before she loses consciousness again. How her mom left when she was ten. No explanation, no goodbye, just gone.

"Maybe she knew," Vespera says, unfocused now. "Maybe she saw what would happen and got out before—"

"Before what?"

"Before someone decided she was theirs to keep."

The parallel isn't subtle. I want to argue, to point out the difference between abandonment and claiming, but she's already fading, eyes rolling back.

"Catch her," Corvus says, and I do, pulling her against my chest as she goes limp again.

"We need to discuss the plan," he says, checking her vitals again. "She has maybe thirty-six hours without intervention."

"Then we intervene."

"She won't accept help."

"Then we make acceptance irrelevant."

Oakley shakes his head. "You can't force her."

"Watch me."

But even as I say it, holding her unconscious body, feeling how fragile she's become, I know he's right. Force got us here. Force made her run. Force is killing her.

"Put her to bed," Corvus says quietly. "We'll take shifts watching her."

I carry her to the bed, arrange her carefully. She looks small, breakable. Nothing like the force of nature who rejected three Alphas.

"I'll take first watch," I say.

They leave without argument. They know I need this—need to sit here in the dark and watch her breathe, need to torture myself with her proximity while she can't protest.

Around midnight, she stirs.

"Ben?" she mumbles, still mostly asleep.