11. I Am Not For Sale

11

I Am Not For Sale

Isobel knocked on the door before slipping into Mikel’s office. It was close to midnight, but it was the first moment of free time they were able to line up in each of their schedules. Mikel, Kalen, and Elijah were already waiting. Mikel was dressed for a run, the grey material of his shirt tight and a little damp as it clung to the ridges of his abdominals, his black shorts wrinkled up around powerful thighs as he sat with one sneaker notched against the coffee table between the couches. He raised dark brows at her in greeting as he pulled deeply from a water bottle dotted with damp condensation. Just like Oscar, Mikel liked to escape for a run whenever he felt tense. She sometimes found it surprising how alike the two Alphas were, but she shouldn’t. Mikel had obviously been a very heavy influence on Oscar.

“Thanks for the meeting,” she said, flicking her attention to Kalen, who was still in a suit. He had just finished up a training session with one of the humans.

She didn’t want to know which human on the off chance it was one of the females and they had been alone. The knowledge might force the bond to act up again. She and Kalen hadn’t said a word to each other about her sneaking into his room to appease the bond … or what had happened after, but there was something different in the way Kalen looked at her now. Whenever they were performing for the cameras, he surveyed her the same way he did the Alphas: with a razor-sharp focus, and an intimidating analysis of her every move churning behind his expression.

It dropped the moment they were out of view of the cameras.

His eyes wandered, just like they were doing now. That strong, amber gaze caressed the hem of her cropped sports top as though he was thinking of slipping his hand beneath the material to cup her breasts. His attention slid down, over her bared ribcage, fixing there like he was imagining his tanned hand spanning across her pale skin. Or remembering it.

When he looked at her like that, it was easy to imagine that he was seconds away from ordering everyone out of the room, bending her over Mikel’s desk, and demanding she tell him she was his again. But he didn’t. He only sat back and nodded at her as though his eyes hadn’t just stripped her bare.

Elijah’s icy stare was easier to meet, because even though he swept his eyes over her, she could tell that his brain had kicked into gear. He had already figured out why she had called a meeting with them, and he was probably already mentally an hour into the discussion after predicting what everyone was going to say. He hadn’t had a chance to shower yet, because he was still in the same clothes he had worn to their evening dance practice, his pale hair drifted across his forehead, a little wavy from a full day of training, his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.

“You’ve decided what you want to do in the Dahlia Room?” he asked, without preamble.

“Yeah.” She moved to the seat beside him, facing Mikel and Kalen across the coffee table, but he surprised her by catching her wrist and tugging her into his lap instead.

“What do you need?” he asked, settling her sideways over his strong thighs so that she could still see all of them. Elijah and Gabriel both touched her and sought to settle their side of the bond less in group settings, and she wasn’t sure if it was because they were more reserved, or if it was just hard for them to shift their focus from caring and worrying about the others to doing whatever they needed to do for themselves.

She tried to focus on his question instead of the warm and spicy, smoky clove scent that clung to his skin, smouldering warmer as soon as her thighs hit his, his big hand settling high on her leg, right where her shorts ended, his thumb stroking back and forth absently, raising goosebumps over her skin.

“I’ll need a rig,” she said, clearing her throat. “An anchor point in the ceiling. And I’ll need them to pull down those curtains; they’ll only get in the way.”

Kalen’s brows twitched up, but Elijah was already nodding.

“Aerial silks,” he concluded, not even a question. “You’re right, that fits the space perfectly with the circular stage, and I think they’ll accommodate any ideas you have after your last dance. Do you have any experience?”

“I did some training as part of the gymnastics phase my father put me through. Enough to cover the basics and learn one routine, but I’ll obviously need a lot more,” she answered. “I can’t go in there and do a basic routine.”

“Let me organise it with Cooper,” Kalen said. “I’ll tell him Mikel and I are working on your performances together, so he doesn’t question it.”

She dipped her chin in an eager nod. Anything to escape Cooper. “Do you have time?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Kalen waved off her concern. “That’s my job. But you’ll need to put in extra hours. Do you have time for this?”

“I’ll figure it out.” She copied his hand movement, and his lips lifted into a small smirk, eyes dropping to Elijah’s hand on her thigh for a moment, heat flaring to life before he blinked it away.

She stiffened slightly, because it wasn’t the kind of heat she was used to—not from her other Alphas. For the barest second, it had looked as though he might rip her out of Elijah’s grip and start a brawl right there in Mikel’s office, but he shook it off so fast.

“Well then.” Kalen stood, shrugging off his jacket and stretching out his massive arms. “I’ve got a few things to look at before bed. Let’s get started tomorrow.”

It was almost 10:00 p.m. the next night when she walked into the private room Kalen had booked out in the fitness complex. It was a medium-sized gym that seemed to be fit out for different types of gymnastics—a room she had never visited before, though that was hardly surprising with how large the fitness complex was.

“How’d you get that set up so fast?” she asked, spotting Kalen in the middle of the room, fiddling with aerial silks hanging from the ceiling.

She jumped when Mikel pushed off from the wall and fell into step beside her.

“It was already here,” he said. “You get both of us tonight, by the way.”

She bit on her lip, because none of the responses that popped into her head seemed appropriate, though she managed to drudge one up by the time they reached Kalen.

“Are you guys worried I’m going to hurt myself?”

Kalen gave her that look again. “It’s cold outside.” His eyes skirted her bared stomach, inching up over her crop top.

“I ran here.” She tried to stop her brows from popping up. “I’ve got a sweater.” She waved her bag at him before dropping it on the floor. She bent, tugging it open and extracting Kilian’s shirt, which she had swiped on her way out of the dorm. It wasn’t even a clean shirt. She had picked it up after he tossed it on his bed on his way to the shower. It was drenched in his scent and maybe she was sick for stealing used shirts, but she had the convenient excuse of needing a bit of extra cover for this particular hour of training.

She tugged it on, the soft material falling to her thighs, and Kalen’s brows dipped for a moment, before he nodded to the silks. “Show us what you’ve got.”

She stepped up and gripped the fabric, and even though there was a falling mat beneath her, they both hovered close.

“How long has it been?” Mikel asked, as she did a basic climb, the silks sliding between her fingers as she lifted herself.

“My father got me started when I was … thirteen, I think,” she answered, directing most of her attention to the climb. “I only did it for a couple of years sporadically. My upper body strength wasn’t the best back then.”

It was better now. She could feel the difference, even though the silks felt a little unfamiliar and stiff. Still, it was instinctual for her legs to wrap around the soft material, her feet finding the familiar positions. She paused halfway up, enjoying the weightless feeling, the demand on her muscles, her breath easing as a slight weight lifted from her chest.

She moved through a few easier positions, stretching out her body before extending into a simple split. There was an initial spark of panic as she glanced below, but she forced her eyes back up and her body to loosen into the position. Trust in herself was essential when doing complicated or dangerous manoeuvres. It was the same on the ground as it was up in the air, and something Lye had been hammering into them in her Acro Duo classes with Gabriel and Elijah. The moment she doubted herself or her partner, her chances of injury skyrocketed.

She waited for all vestiges of panic to trickle out of her before moving to a new position. Her movements weren’t as fluid as they had been when she had first learnt the basics of aerial silks, but she was still able to move with a certain amount of grace. Her body was simply trained that way: to move to a rhythm, to be as fluid as water no matter the impossible ways she twisted and positioned it.

The tension in her arms was both challenging and oddly comforting. The ability to make herself weightless, to make herself fly, was something she had grasped at with all her strength. When the officials had dragged Kalen into the Stone Dahlia, he had turned their exploitation on its head and handed himself back control while exploiting their guests instead. And it sounded like Gabriel and Elijah had done a similar thing, though she had never seen what their performances entailed.

Now, it was her turn, and she had figured out what she wanted.

She wanted to fly above them.

She wanted to look down on them.

She wanted to be untouchable .

Even if it was all a fantasy, as easily crushed as a bed of fresh, soft snow beneath their designer heels and Italian leather shoes.

She felt a little spark of pride as her body began to move with better fluidity, falling into the routine her mind was slower to remember. Each twist and pose was simple and basic, but she completed them without a wobble of uncertainty or panic, and that was more important. Her finishing pose wasn’t complex, but it was strong and sure, and she was grinning when she dropped back to her feet, her body tingling with adrenaline.

“I think this could work,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked between the professors.

Their expressions were carefully guarded, which made her want to shake them and force them to show her something, especially since she was sure they could read everything she felt through the bond.

“I see significant potential for injury,” Kalen finally admitted, sucking air between his teeth. “But you were beautiful. I just know you’re going to push this as far as you can, and I’m worried about the strain it’s going to put on you with all your other obligations.”

She glanced to Mikel, but he seemed to agree.

He said, “It’s up to you.”

“I’m doing it,” she declared stubbornly.

Mikel shrugged, like he did his best to talk her out of it, and Kalen’s hard lips lifted slightly at the corners, like he had expected nothing less.

“Then I guess I’ve got some research to do.” Mikel’s blue-black eyes roamed over Kilian’s shirt like he found it distracting. “Wear a full-length leotard that covers your arms and legs, so you don’t get rope burn. We can practise two hours a night until I’m confident you won’t hurt yourself, and then you can perform. Until then, you’ll have to keep dancing—preferably without dislocating anything. Understood?”

“Understood, Professor,” she answered quickly. It was easy to see when Kalen and Mikel switched from her mates to her managers. The change of tone wasn’t even subtle.

They both grew still, eyes fixed to her face. It took her a minute to realise she had called Mikel “professor.” In private . The lines between them had become so blurred, but she had stopped deferring to them a while ago, considering them partners and friends more than anything.

She wasn’t entirely sure why it had slipped out in that moment.

“Oh.” She laughed awkwardly. “I mean?—”

“Let’s get back,” Mikel said, his grin a little sharp. “It’s late.”

“Right.” She pulled her sweater over Kilian’s shirt and trailed them out of the gym, enjoying the heat and mingling scents of them as they walked either side of her.

Strong, heady vanilla and storm-soaked condensation was a combination she wasn’t going to easily forget. Not after Mikel had spanked her after one of her and Kalen’s performances. Not after Kalen had pushed his cock down her throat. Not after they had shattered her into a thousand pieces without reaching for their own releases, muddying the boundaries of their relationship. Even after what Kalen had done a few days ago, she knew nothing had changed … and she hated it, but understood it at the same time.

There was just something about the way Kalen looked at her, something about the stillness that sometimes overcame Mikel when their eyes met, and she accidentally said something that stirred a thought in his head.

She was already juggling a lot with Theodore, Kilian, Cian … and now Oscar. Mikel felt like a storm that might sweep through and leave only devastation in its wake, and Kalen felt like a dragon who might jealously hoard her away, tearing the limbs from anyone who dared come too close. It seemed like Kalen knew that about himself, too, and was just as wary of becoming involved with her as she was of becoming involved with him.

Curiously, there was no hint of that dragon in his interactions with Josette.

How much do you feel through the bond? she asked, pulling them both into her head. It was so quiet outside, most of the students asleep at this time. She could smell the pine trees lining the pathway, the scent muted compared to the drenching rain and vanilla of her mates. Their steps were deliberately short, keeping pace with her, the cold breeze forcing her hands to retreat into the sleeves of her sweater.

Mostly big emotions, Kalen answered. If we concentrate, we can sense every little feeling that flits through you but big emotions barge right through. They’re hard to miss.

We could tell how the silks made you feel, Mikel elaborated, sensing that she needed more to understand. But I felt nothing through the bond a minute ago when your scent changed, so it’s not like mind reading.

When my scent changed? she asked.

Sweet, Kalen answered. Wet.

She wasn’t sure if he was talking about her scent being wet or her being wet, but she admittedly had been thinking about his dick in her mouth while Mikel spanked her a few minutes ago. She awkwardly cleared her throat, deciding to drop the conversation as they walked on.

“How’s the toe?” Mikel asked, once they neared the dorm.

“Great!” she lied enthusiastically. In reality, she was popping painkillers between most of her classes and white-knuckling the pain and discomfort while she danced and practised.

Mikel let out a small growl beneath his breath. “Ice it tonight,” he demanded.

“Yes, Professor.”

His exhale was harsh, and he pulled open the door to the dorm, standing back to let her in first. “Good girl.”

Teak began to subtly improve, and by the time fall break rolled around, she was managing to get through a session without crying.

Still, Isobel was grateful for the reprieve from their sessions and her usual classes. Since the break was only for a week, Kalen decided they would make the best of the time and spend every day in their brand-new training room, workshopping concepts for their first album. They all welcomed the change.

Their new training room was huge, with an attached bathroom and a small kitchenette, which was restocked with energy drinks, water, tea, and coffee every night. There was even an empty office tucked behind the practice room. Mikel filled it with first aid supplies and a massage table. With the increase in their training hours and intensity, there always seemed to be something wrong with at least one of them. Isobel spent more time in there than anyone, especially while she was recovering from her fracture. The Alphas all seemed to heal from their injuries within a matter of hours or days, but hers lasted for weeks.

The back wall of the training room featured a huge neon sign of their group name, while the right side wall housed long, carved wooden benches. The left side wall featured towering, arched windows and long, transparent white drapes, and the front wall was covered by floor-to-ceiling mirrors. There were two iron chandeliers, which created beautiful patterns on the floor after the sun went down.

The officials hadn’t just tossed them any old training room. They had gutted one of the performance halls and properly redecorated it. With care . It was simply stunning.

The first night, Isobel refused to leave. She sat on one of the benches and scrolled through her playlist until something caught her attention. The song was called “Palm Reader,” and she forced Cian to come back after his shower so that she could choreograph a partner dance with him. It was upbeat and fun, the emphasis on sharp movement and perfect synchronicity, but Cian decided to do their final take without his shirt, his tattoo-covered muscles on full display, and suddenly she was sweating for a different reason. He’d touched her constantly as they ran through it for the last time, playing up their chemistry for the recording. She couldn’t stop smiling because he was totally messing up the choreography, always stepping too close to brush his body against hers, shifting in the wrong direction so that she was forced to bump into him, or grabbing her hand and refusing to let go. They were both breathing heavily by the end, and she was smiling so hard it hurt.

The next day, Gabriel posted their dance. It immediately went viral, giving them a huge boost in popularity points, and the comments section exploded with pleas for her to choreograph a dance for each of the Alphas. They thanked her for giving them a dance so soon and heaped praise on Kalen and Mikel for making her the dance leader. Even the comments claiming that her and Cian were obviously sleeping together were quickly shut down by other fans, who said they were just acting and doing their jobs, and that Isobel always danced to a theme.

Things were going … a little too well.

Kalen brought a selection of songs he had been working on into the training room the next day, and they spent two days workshopping them and narrowing down their choices for the debut album. The entire time, Isobel tried to fight back the feeling that their good luck was about to topple and crash all around them.

On the third day of fall break, she hung back again, pulling her tablet from her bag. It was Gabriel’s birthday, but he had left to work on his rap sections for the album and wasn’t interested in celebrating.

Kilian sat on the floor, scrubbing through Cian’s recordings of Isobel workshopping dance ideas. He was pausing the video and taking notes, humming softly beneath his breath. Theodore copied the dances in the video, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. He was executing the moves perfectly but didn’t seem happy with perfect. The others had already returned to the dorm, hoping to catch an extra few hours of sleep, since Gabriel wasn’t interested in doing anything.

Isobel set her tablet against her knees and plucked up her electronic pencil, tapping into her sketching app.

“You’re still doing those?” Theodore asked, glancing at her screen as she began to draw.

“It’s not like he’s getting any other presents,” she said, frowning at him.

Theodore smirked. “You want me to get him a present? What do you think he’d like?”

“Hand sanitiser,” Kilian commented without looking up.

Isobel ignored them, outlining a bunch of cotton blooms, her brushstrokes soft and calm. She added more and more of them until they were taking up most of the screen. She could imagine grabbing handfuls of their softness and rubbing it over her cheeks. Gabriel’s clean linen scent made her feel like that sometimes. She just wanted to rub her cheek against his chest and breathe him in, but he would likely hate that.

In between the pretty little tufts, she drew hesitant, delicate ferns, their edges curling in on themselves. She coloured in the sketch and sent it while she waited for Theodore and Kilian to finish up.

Gabriel’s response came half an hour later.

Gabriel: I love it.

Gabriel: Thank you.

Isobel: Did anyone else get you a present?

Gabriel: Elijah got me a pen.

Isobel: What kind of pen?

Gabriel: The one I left in his room last week.

Isobel: Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?

Gabriel: Is it working?

Isobel: It’s not NOT working.

Gabriel: You know what isn’t working?

Isobel: Please tell me it isn’t the pen.

Gabriel: It’s the pen. That’s why I left it in his room.

Isobel: I’m getting you cake from the dining hall.

She packed up her things, said goodbye to the others, and rushed to the dining hall, but it was too late to get any desserts from the dinner service. There were only snacks, drinks, and fruit available. She groaned and snatched up a packet of cookies from the coffee bar, rushing back to the dorm. She knocked on Gabriel’s door, but there was no answer, so he was probably still at the studio. She let herself in, planning to leave the cookies on his bedside table, but once she was inside, she was too curious to leave. She hadn’t been inside Gabriel’s room, and it seemed he hadn’t put up all his sticky notes from the previous Dorm A. There was still no blanket on the bed, which housed a single pillow, the sheets tucked so tightly there wasn’t a wrinkle or crease in sight. His desk still housed stacks of notebooks, ordered by the colour of the cover, but there were no notes.

She was just returning to the door to see if there was a message on the back of it when Gabriel filled the doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, revealing smooth, polished wood. There were no notes.

“You feel even worse now, don’t you?” He stalked over to his desk and began emptying his bag, arranging everything meticulously over his desk or into drawers. “You promised cake and didn’t realise the dining hall had stopped serving for the night.” He hung up his bag and then came around his desk, leaning on it and crossing his arms.

There wasn’t a hint of amusement on his face, but she knew, somehow, that he was laughing at her on the inside. She wanted to crack that demeanour. It was too perfect. His blond hair was tamed, a few darker gold streaks daring to rebel against the rest of the uniform colour. There was no curl in the strands but a persistent, adorable flop in the locks he always tried to tuck into place by his ear. He reminded her of a leading man in an ‘80s movie, with that little hair flop. All he needed was a tight shirt and a cigarette to wedge between his hard lips, and the image would be complete, but of course, he would sooner use that cigarette on the forehead of someone invading his personal space than smoke it. His features were masculine but not broad and so symmetrical it made his blank stare even more emotionless and chilling.

“I brought cookies.” She pointed to his bedside table.

“My favourite,” he said, without even looking.

She blew out a short breath, eyeing him. He looked tired. “Sorry for sneaking into your room.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, fine. What happened to your notes?”

“They’re in the dressing room.”

She glanced at the closed door and then back to Gabriel. He lifted a brow.

She took a step toward the closet.

He didn’t stop her.

She took another step.

He rolled his eyes.

She skipped over to the door and stepped inside, her gaze widening immediately.

His problem hadn’t gotten better. It had gotten worse . Notes covered the back of the door, the walls, the shelves, and the drawers. She could even see them peeking out from behind the racks of clothes.

You are not for sale seemed to be scrawled on the notes often, along with other phrases.

You are not dirty.

There is nothing crawling beneath your skin.

You do not need to wash your hands.

You are in control.

She swallowed, her throat almost too tight to draw in air. “That private dance …” The words tasted like acid in her throat. “The one you traded in exchange for the location of the bond pieces?”

He had followed her into the dressing room. She could feel him behind her.

“What about it?” he asked.

She couldn’t look at him. “Did you do it?”

“Yes.”

“Who was it?”

“The wife of an official. She overheard him on the phone talking about the hair braids. He knew where they were, but he didn’t know what they were, just that they had to be a secret.”

“Do you still see her?”

“She’s requested me at the Icon Cafe a few times. She was at your first dance performance in the Dahlia Room.”

Isobel found it even harder to breathe, and her mind raced back, trying to dredge up a face. There was a dark-haired woman who had been at Gabriel’s table the last few weeks. Isobel remembered her because she was young—almost as young as Isobel, but she wore a gigantic diamond ring.

Gabriel saw her often .

She spun around, trying to read his impassive face. “What did the dance entail?”

“I had to take most of my clothes off. She didn’t touch me. She just watched.”

Her cheeks were wet. She was crying. Fuck . She refused to let her expression crumble, even though tears were escaping. “It was just the once?”

He nodded, his attention diverted by the tear that wobbled on the edge of her jaw. “I didn’t touch her. She didn’t touch me.” He sounded confused, like he couldn’t understand the look of pain on her face.

It wasn’t pain from the bond. She hurt for him.

“But she paid for you,” she said, stabbing a finger at one of the notes.

“Not with money.” He shrugged.

“Is that where you draw the line?” Suddenly, she was furious. And terrified. It suddenly seemed so easy , so simple to manipulate Gabriel into that kind of situation.

He closed the distance between them and brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw, collecting her tear. “I need you to explain this reaction.” His expression finally collapsed, showing her a glimpse of confusion and shame, his russet eyes glimmering. “I don’t understand. If something like that can cause a minor infraction, I need to know?—”

“This isn’t about me .” She pushed against his chest, frustrated. He didn’t seem to notice. “I pushed you,” she growled, even more frustrated.

“I’ll stumble later,” he promised, wiping another tear. “And I’ll never make that deal again.”

“You better not,” she threatened, but her stupid voice wobbled. “If you’re going to make a trade or a deal, it better have nothing to do with your body.”

His eyes suddenly dropped to her lips, and all the air was sucked from the room.

“You care about me.” He was saying it like he had only just noticed .

“No,” she lied, ineffectually shoving him again. “I pushed you.”

He stepped back calmly. She would have preferred a stumble, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was staring at her like he couldn’t understand her at all, but she had caught sight of something on the shelf behind him and was no longer paying attention.

“Is that my sweatshirt?” she asked, confused. “I lost that last year.”

He didn’t answer, and she stepped past him, shock freezing her into place. The shelf was full of her things.

The bodysuit she had worn during one of her shibari performances with Kalen. One of the dresses she had worn while dancing. A crop top, a jumper, a handful of silk hair ties, Kilian’s faded yellow T-shirt that she used to love wearing to bed. And … panties. Multiple pairs of them. They looked clean and were neatly folded.

“You washed and folded them,” she said numbly.

“That’s the part that surprises you?” he asked calmly, moving behind her again, his heat skittering across her back. “What am I going to do with them dirty, Isobel?”

“Should I be insulted? That you didn’t want my dirty panties?”

He planted his hands on the shelves either side of her, leaning closer, boxing her in. “I only wash your clothes when they stop smelling like you.”

“Everything in here looks washed.”

“Then it’s time I steal something new.”

His hands dropped from the shelf, brushing up over her tights until he reached the waistband. There was something about his hands spanning the bare skin of her waist, the bulk of them just visible beneath her shirt, that had liquid heat immediately pooling low in her stomach, her entire body tensing in anticipation.

He paused there, both of them breathing too loudly. She wasn’t sure how to proceed, but she wanted to. Badly .

“I … c-can take them off myself,” she whispered, her face flaming red.

He growled, his hips suddenly pushing into her, pressing her against the shelves, the movement so sudden she had to grasp the shelf to steady herself. His erection curved into her spine.

“That’s not the problem,” he said lowly.

“I can shower?”

“No.” He tensed. “I like it when you smell like you.” And then, after a pause: “I just don’t know if I can be what you need.”

Her stomach clenched. “You don’t have a single unwashed thing here. That has to be driving you crazy. What kind of system is that?”

He chuckled, his breath stirring her hair. “Are you trying to goad me into fucking you, Sigma? Is that what you like to do?”

“Just stating facts. There’s a flaw in your system. A production and supply issue. I thought you were better than that.”

He laughed softly against the top of her head before gripping her waist and spinning her around. And then he stepped back, his hands falling out from beneath her shirt. “I know you love to test our control, but control isn’t something I can give up.”

This wasn’t him flirting; this was him being deadly serious.

She nodded, worrying her lip. “You shouldn’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

His smile was slight but sharp. “I don’t feel completely in control, and you drive me insane. I don’t think I should push things while I feel so … rattled. I could end up like Oscar, or I could push myself past my comfort levels without realising it. I forget about those things when I’m with you.”

“You don’t have to explain.” She wished she could reach out and touch him, and thankfully, he closed the distance between them again, large palms brushing down her arms, warming her skin, until he reached her fingers, which he twisted between his own.

“Will you sleep here tonight?” he asked. “I put a blanket in the cupboard for you.”

She bit back a smile. “Are you trying to get me to rub myself all over your bed so you won’t have to steal another pair of panties?”

He jerked her forward, spun behind her, and spanked her. Hard . “Get ready for bed, puppy.”

She hurried back to her room and put herself through a shower almost numbly. As surprised as Gabriel had been that she cared so much about him, she had to admit she had been just as shocked to find out the same thing about him. After her shower, she began to reach for the shirt she had worn to bed last night, but paused, her fingers brushing the sleeve. It was Cian’s.

I like it when you smell like you.

There was an odd flutter in her belly as she pulled on a cotton tank with cute, matching little booty shorts instead, texting the group to check that the coast was clear before she looped the cameras, since she wasn’t sure if Theodore and Kilian were back yet and didn’t want to start a loop when they were in any of the common rooms.

She made her way back to Gabriel’s room, closing the door and leaning back against it as she took in the sight before her. Gabriel was sitting up in his bed, fresh out of a shower with only black sweatpants on, his laptop resting on his thighs as he tapped away, the muscles in his arms twitching with the movement. Beside him was a second pillow, and a fluffy, cream-coloured blanket.

“I plugged in a phone charger for you,” he said, without looking up from his screen.

There was also a fresh bottle of water on her side of the bed, and a steaming cup of peppermint tea, which he had apparently noticed she liked to drink at night. She was a little too shocked to make a joke about it, so she just curled up on the bed, plugged in her phone, and cradled the tea, edging into the warmth of his side to see what he was doing.

Scheduling their social media accounts, of course.

“You should take a break,” she said.

He scoffed and continued typing.

“Seriously.” She nudged him ever so slightly with her shoulder.

“Like you do?” he asked, finally looking away from his screen.

“What if my feet get cold?” she asked, switching tack to tease him a little about the bedtime preparations he had made.

“Socks are in the drawer.”

She pulled away from him, rolling to her stomach and setting her tea on his bedside table. She tugged open the drawer, finding a folded pair of fluffy socks, an eye mask, lip balm, a hairbrush, and a book. Technical Manual and Dictionary of Classical Ballet .

She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. “What’s the book for?”

“In case you get bored.”

“How could I ever get bored with you around.” She glanced at him over her shoulder.

His eyes were on her ass, his fingers curled into fists. He carefully closed his laptop and rolled off the bed, placing it on his desk. His walk back to the bed was more purposeful, more of a prowl, and she felt stuck, unable to so much as twitch. It seemed like the smallest movement from her would force him to pounce, but instead, he only stretched back out and turned off the lights.

“Should I—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Come here.”

She edged toward him, curling into his side as he held his arm open, making room for her.

“What if I get hungry?” she whispered.

He chuckled, aware that she was teasing him, and swatted her ass again. “Go to sleep.”

Isobel’s first session with Teak after the fall break had her hopes plummeting. The bond specialist’s recovery seemed to have plateaued. She had lost weight, her bones now prominent beneath her skin, her once warm, beautiful eyes now sallow and empty. Their sessions grew shorter and shorter, because Isobel had no new information to offer up, and eventually, Teak changed them to once a month.

When Isobel needed more pills, she texted her father and he booked another session with her at the Icon Cafe. This time, he arrived with more than one gift bag. He was trailed in by a harried-looking assistant whose arms were overflowing with shopping bags.

“I had my personal shopper purchase suits for the Alphas,” he said as soon as he sat down. He waved his assistant off, and the man placed all the bags on the floor before disappearing. “I saw them at your performance last night and they were wearing the same sad excuses for suits as they were at your first performance. I assume the ones who weren’t there looked just as pathetic. What the fuck are they spending their Ironside stipends on?”

Isobel rubbed at her temples, fighting off an immediate headache. “Their families?” she ventured, drawing out the answer like it should have been obvious. “What do you care?”

“They’re a direct reflection on you,” he grumbled, smacking her hand away when she robotically moved to pour his tea, falling into the motions of her duties as she did every Saturday.

She blinked at him, staring, as he poured her a glass of tea.

Usually, her guests wanted her to wait on them hand and foot and got annoyed if her attention wavered from them for even a moment.

“They need to look as good as you do,” Braun continued. “I had one of my assistants request their sizes from their Ironside records, but I accounted a little for the Alpha growth cycle, so they should fit nicely.”

She was still staring at him, her mouth slightly unhinged. He nudged the tea toward her.

“Their suits aren’t that bad,” she finally said.

He gave her a droll, tired look. “Yes, they are. They need to be respected in here. If they look like they don’t have two dollars to rub together, people will assume they’re easy targets. People will start offering or demanding they do things for money. They need to look like they don’t need anything. It will discourage some of the patrons from trying to take advantage of them. Mind you, I said some of the patrons. Not all of them.”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” she demanded. “You don’t care about other people.”

“I care about my people,” he snarled, his composure breaking before he shockingly reeled it under control, giving her a stern look.

This time, her mouth really did fall open. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re my daughter.” He sighed, reaching for his own drink. “The only progeny I have. Whoever is attached to you is also attached to me.”

He knew .

He knew they were her mates.

“Congratulations,” she said, unable to help the sarcasm from her voice. She couldn’t believe he knew. She needed to make sure. “You always wished I was an Alpha. Now you have ten of them.”

He stared at the table for several long, awkward seconds before his chest filled with air. “I didn’t wish you were an Alpha. I just wished I could look at you and not feel death.”

A grimace tightened her features. “I was a baby. You can’t blame me for what happened.”

“Welcome to the world, kid.” His laugh was empty. “That’s what we do.”

She had no idea what to do with this version of her father. If anything, he scared her more than the old version because it all felt like an act, a mask that would crack when she was least expecting it.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” he blurted without warning.

“What?” Her head snapped up.

“A psychiatrist,” he clarified, a hint of colour in his cheeks, his hands tightening into fists. “I also started reading your mother’s journals. I know you’re confused about how I’m acting. I can see it in your face.”

“You told a human psychiatrist what you told me?” she asked, her brows inching higher. “About … what happened back in the settlement? Mom? Your brother?”

He laughed. “Fuck no, Isobel. Jesus. I told him I had an abusive upbringing. I told him about my own father and how I started to repeat some of those patterns with you. It’s not going to be an overnight fix … but I’m trying. I just thought you should know.”

She levelled him with a searching look before shrugging her shoulder lightly. “If you say so.”

That night, she found herself under the spell of her golden roses again. Her preoccupation had grown worse, and she often found herself getting up in the middle of the night to close her bathroom door because she couldn’t sleep when she could see them.

She was too tired to close the door that night, worn down into a puddle of limbs by Theodore, who had squeezed multiple orgasms from her body using his mouth before he flipped her over and filled her, making sure she would be too weak to ask for more.

She sighed, staring at the glint of moonlight shimmering off those gold petals. She could only see one of the vases, but her fingers itched to touch them again.

Theodore rolled onto his side, blocking her line of sight, his grey eyes blinking at her sleepily, surprised that she was still awake.

“Are you not exhausted enough, Illy?” He dragged her thigh over his hip, pulling her tight into the heat of his body as he lazily nuzzled into her neck.

She didn’t answer, tucking her head against his chest and sighing in relief. She closed her eyes, trying to forget about the soul artefact.

But the bond wasn’t willing to leave her alone. Almost as soon as she closed her eyes, she was dragged into a vision.

She jolted in shock, peering around. She was standing in a small bedroom, a filthy mattress on the floor. A man lay on the mattress with his pants undone and his belt unbuckled. He had a thick moustache and stringy black hair, blue eyes clouded as he puffed on a cigarette. His eyes were human, and there was a uniform jacket tossed to the side of the mattress.

He was a cop. A human cop.

“What—” she began, but Elijah swore so loudly that she jumped, turning to see the Alphas lined up against the wall behind her.

“Is this your memory?” she asked Elijah, who was as white as a sheet.

“No,” he answered, voice strained.

Frowning, she glanced to the others.

Gabriel looked like he was about to be sick. His hands were shaking.

“We h-have to get out of here,” he stuttered. She had never heard him sound that scared.

“Boy!” the cop called out. “Quit washing your fucking hands and get back in here.”

Isobel’s heart sank, and tears filled her eyes.

“I’ve seen him before,” she said, staring at the man. “He came to me as a remnant with my mom and Crowe. He’s dead.”

“Yeah,” Elijah said quietly. “Stick around long enough, and you’ll see it happen.”

A little boy, maybe around ten or twelve, walked back into the room. His hands and arms were red from scrubbing, his fingertips dripping with water. He was dressed in too-big, baggy clothes.

“I have to go home now,” he said, russet eyes empty.

“Like fuck,” the man replied. “I paid for two hours. I’m getting two hours. I didn’t say you could put your damn clothes back on, kid. Come here.” He jolted from the mattress, making a grab for the boy.

Isobel waited for him to dart out of reach. To run away. To fight, and kick, and scream. But he didn’t. Because he was a child, and this had happened to him before.

As soon as his little back hit the mattress, her vision went blurry, and she clutched her stomach, trying not to vomit.

Make it stop , she pleaded, screwing her eyes closed. She couldn’t watch this.

“Let’s get you dirty again, boy,” the man leered, and Isobel doubled over, dry retching onto the floor.

“It’s gone,” Theodore said quietly, fury and despair simmering in his voice. His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her up again. He was shaking.

Isobel blinked at their new setting. They were on the streets of what looked like one of the settlements. The moon was high in the sky, the streets shadowed, lacking any streetlights. There was a shuffling sound along the dirt road, and she peered at the wobbly outline, which slowly came into focus.

It was a different boy, this time, though he was dressed just like Gabriel had been, his clothes oversized, torn, and dirty. He had silver-blond hair, overlong, flopping into pale-grey eyes.

Elijah?

He was carrying something on his back, and as he shuffled closer, Isobel’s heart dropped right out of her body. Elijah clutched pale arms around his neck, a dirty blond head lolling on his shoulders. The little boy was naked, blood smeared over his legs, bruises littering his back, arms, and thighs. He was unconscious.

“Hold on, Gabey,” the little Elijah squeaked out. “Just hold on.”

They stood there and watched, unable to help, unable to interfere, as Elijah carried the broken body past them, his pace painfully slow.

Isobel glanced back at the real Gabriel and Elijah, tears spilling down her cheeks, words lodged into the back of her throat. She wanted to reach out to them, but they weren’t even comforting each other. In fact, the Alphas seemed to have edged a few inches away from Gabriel, like they knew he didn’t want them in his space. She watched him mournfully as she waited for the vision to end. He was so still, his eyes empty.

Fuck this . She edged closer and Elijah looked at her, shaking his head quickly. Usually, she would have listened. They knew each other best. But they didn’t know her and Gabriel’s relationship. It was more private than her connection with Theodore, Kilian, Cian, or Oscar.

But it was there, and she shakily placed her trust in it as she approached him. He never hesitated to reach out to her, to touch her. So she didn’t hesitate now. She slipped her arms gently around his waist. He froze for only a moment before he bent down and snatched her up, lifting her feet from the ground, his arms like two steel bands around her back and the low curve of her spine.

It was painful . He was holding her too tight. She could barely breathe, but she didn’t need to because he was finally breathing. He was sucking in deep gulps of her scent, dragging her higher up his body so that he could burrow his face into her neck. Hidden by the soft cloud of her wavy hair, he began to quietly cry, teardrops littering her skin and slipping down over her chest and arm.

She threaded her fingers into his hair, slowly stroking him, her fingers trembling.

Let’s get you dirty again, boy.

She couldn’t stop the words replaying over and over again in her mind. Gradually, Gabriel stopped silently crying, and the dampness against her neck dried. He let her down, and she glanced around.

“Why are we still here?” she whispered.

She turned, but Gabriel clutched her back to his body, his arms wrapped around her chest.

“Because it’s not over,” he said huskily.

She had no idea how long they stood there, but eventually, Elijah came back into sight, a boy with dark hair, honeyed skin, and hazel eyes striding beside him.

“My dad will help him,” the dark-haired boy promised. Niko . “Don’t worry, Eli.”

“It’s not good enough,” the young Elijah said. “He has to listen to their thoughts. He has to listen to what they think. He can’t do it anymore.”

Isobel jolted into motion as soon as they passed by her, Gabriel’s hold on her breaking apart. They were going back .

“Wait,” she said, even though she knew they couldn’t hear her.

Don’t go back there.

She hurried after them but didn’t have to go far. They stopped a few houses down and pushed inside. Isobel tailed them into the same small bedroom with the dirty mattress on the ground. The man was asleep, snoring loudly, a half-empty bottle of vodka wedged beneath his arm. His belt was still undone, his pants still hanging open.

“Wake up,” Elijah demanded, and there was a strange shiver of power in his voice. Not Alpha voice, but something else.

“You can’t,” Niko whispered, staring at the man with wide eyes as he jerked awake, pitching upright and blinking dizzily.

“Eli,” Niko tugged on the other boy’s arm. “You can’t use your powers on a human.”

Elijah shook him off, refocussing on the man.

“Die,” he said, the air shivering with that same power.

The man acted immediately, picking up the vodka bottle and smashing it against the floor.

Isobel sucked in a sharp breath as he picked up a broken shard of glass in each hand, his head shaking as he tried to fight against the compulsion. He began to shout, but Elijah cut him off.

“Shut up.”

He began to stab his own legs, his stomach, his arms, his neck.

Isobel closed her eyes, unable to watch, but when the horrific sounds finally stopped, she opened them again and focussed on Elijah, who had watched the whole thing.

The younger Elijah collapsed and threw up all over the floor. Now that it was done, he was shaking and sobbing, his anger drained, replaced by ashen cheeks and horrified grey eyes.

Niko dragged him out of the house and back to the street, and then stumbled back in, searching the drawers in the empty kitchen until he found a packet of matches.

“It’s o-okay,” he stuttered, even though his only company was a dead man. “It’ll be okay.”

He set fire to the curtains first.

Isobel jolted awake, sick and disoriented. She was standing in her bathroom back in Dorm A, her hands stinging. She frowned, looking down.

Was this another vision?

She was clutching the golden roses, half in her left hand, the other half in her right hand, thorns digging into her skin.

“Oh shit,” she whispered before raising her voice. “Theo!”

He was there in a second, hair dishevelled, bare, muscled chest rising and falling rapidly. “What is it? How did you get in here? Were you sleepwalking?” His eyes flicked down to her hands and widened. “Oh shit.”

Isobel’s room! he shouted through the bond.

The roses began to melt, pooling like hot metal into her bleeding palms, though it didn’t burn her. It almost felt like a balm for her cuts, and she turned her hands, displaying her palms as the golden liquid covered her skin. It didn’t drip onto the floor—it seemed alive, and it wanted to stay with her.

She heard the other Alphas bursting into the bedroom, but she couldn’t look away. The gold liquid seemed to bubble and condense, turning into small puddles cradled by her palms. The puddles grew smaller and separated, turning hard and shiny again until she was staring down at ten tiny gems, all in different colours. Golden amber, midnight blue, stormy grey, clear grey, pale green, golden green, red-brown, sapphire, and glittering onyx.

“That’s all?” Elijah was at her side, frowning down at the gems. “I was definitely expecting that many roses to turn into something much more dramatic. These are tiny, and they aren’t even attached to you.”

“They are,” she whispered, realising what the little gems were.

She pulled down her pyjama shirt to reveal her sternum piercing. All of the gems that had appeared were now gone.

She pinched one of the tiny gems between her fingers and pressed into the empty casing in her piercing.

It didn’t click or melt into place, but suddenly it was stuck there, and she couldn’t pick it off.

“Maybe we should just—” Moses ventured, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“No, this is what I need to do.” She returned each of the little gems and then traced the piercing with her fingernail. Energy buzzed through her body, a smile splitting over her face.

She felt … powerful .

“Whoa.” Theodore grabbed her arms, spinning her to face him, his eyes wide. “I can feel that.”

“It feels like you, but it also feels like me,” Moses said with a frown, staring at the piercing.

She traced down to the pale green stone, pressing it inward. This time, it did shift. It clicked inward in the barest movement, lighting up slightly.

“Holy shit,” Kilian laughed out. “You’re invisible. And I can feel the draw on my energy.”

They were all staring at her, so she shifted to the side. Moses’s and Niko’s gazes shifted, eyes crawling in her direction. Their noses were better than the others.

Holy shit .

She should have touched the roses months ago.

She ducked between Theodore and Kilian, who both turned, following the heat of her body and her scent as she escaped into her bedroom. They knew roughly where she was but truly couldn’t see her.

“Oh my god,” she laughed out. “This is incredible.”

The little gem on her chest turned dull again, and they all followed her out into the bedroom.

Gabriel and Elijah stared at her piercing in apprehension, but neither of them said anything. She looked between them, feeling that ache of sorrow pulse back to life. Elijah’s brows drew together, and he quickly spoke, as if he really wanted to focus on this interesting new development instead of the memory they had all just witnessed.

“When the piercing was giving you powers, it gave you ferality, but ferality isn’t an ability. Shouldn’t it have given you charm or aggression?”

“What happened exactly?” Gabriel asked, eyeing her piercing, his hand scraping down the side of his handsome face. “When it gave you ferality?”

“Crowe was … he had me cornered. So I prayed. I’ve never prayed before, but Sophia and Maya had just introduced me to all this Gifted religion stuff, so I guess I thought why not . And then it happened. The gemstone glowed, and I got ferality.”

“Maybe the gemstones don’t give you our abilities so much as they give you our power,” Kilian said. “I could feel you using my power .” He tapped his chest. “Drawing it out of my body. So maybe you just pulled on the wrong power?”

“Or maybe the prayer worked,” Niko suggested casually, rubbing the back of his neck like he was embarrassed to suggest it. “You were begging them for help. It looks like they helped you—well, as much as the gods help anyone, anyway. They gave you access to Theo’s or Moses’ power, and that power includes ferality.”

She stared down at her chest, feeling a little less lucky.

After forming their bond, she had stopped worrying that the second ferality gemstone would appear, but suddenly it felt like a ticking bomb again.

Except this time, there were three gemstones that could give her ferality. And if it was triggered in any of the others?

She swallowed, tugging her shirt back up over the piercing. “Maybe I won’t experiment with the others. Seems like it only lasts for a minute or two, but I can cause all kinds of trouble in two minutes.”

“Don’t we know it,” Kilian murmured, falling onto her bed. “Are we done with drama for tonight?”

Theodore frowned at him. “I was sleeping there.”

Kilian dragged a pillow over his face, uncaring. Oscar wordlessly dropped onto the other side of the bed. Gabriel moved to the couch, lying down and linking his hands over his flat stomach. Elijah slumped into an armchair. Cian followed Gabriel and Elijah, holding out a hand for one of them to pass him a cushion, and then he spread out on the rug before the fireplace. Niko and Moses followed suit, stretching out on the floor. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but they were all so tired they would have been able to sleep on a cold concrete slab.

Kalen strode to Isobel, catching her chin and pulling her eyes up to his. His jaw worked, and then he surprised her by bending and pressing his hard lips into the soft swell of her own.

“Night,” he grunted, before striding from the room.

Mikel watched her for a few moments. “I’ll be just downstairs.”

Theodore picked her up as soon as the door closed behind Mikel, carrying her back to bed and placing her between Oscar and Kilian, and then he grabbed a spare cushion and joined the others on the rug.

This wasn’t about her.

This was about them . Their group. Their family.

After what they had seen, they needed each other.

She curled into Kilian, and ever-so-gently cracked open her walls, stirring at the dark cloud of trauma that hung over the room, coaxing it into the cavern of her chest.

She drank their sorrow until her eyelids were heavy, and then she cut herself off, melting into Kilian’s comforting arms.