Page 88 of Unmarked
“Okay, that’s a little dramatic,” Kai comments. “I’venevermarked anyone - and trust me, I’ve had someveryenthusiastic partners.”
Theo lifts both hands. “We’ll take shifts. We can monitor. We’ll keep our hands to ourselves unless she asks. We'll give her space -”
“Space,” Lucian mutters. “Sure. Because that’s exactly what omega heat cycles are known for. Calm, rational,space.”
“Coming from the guy who’s been parked outside her door like a feral gargoyle?” Kai snorts.
Lucian snaps toward him. “You want to see feral?”
“Guys,” I bark. “Enough.We’re not solving anything by tearing each other’s throats out. She’s in pain. And she asked. She askedme.”
My statement is followed by another period of silence before Lucian finally sets his glass down.
“Fuck this,” he hisses through his teeth, moving to stand. “One of you goes in.One. And the rest stay thefuckout of my way.”
Theo’s jaw ticks. “Fine. Agreed.”
Kai claps. “Great! We’re voting! Who’s bringing snacks? No? Just vibes? Cool.”
I step forward. “I’m going.”
Lucian doesn’t argue. He just seethes.
Good. Let him.
She asked - didn't beg, didn't plea, butasked- and this time, I’m not going to stand on the other side of the door like some broody alpha-shaped statue pretending not to be three seconds from exploding.
Time to go hold her -
Before one of these idiots decides to bring a fern.
*
The corridor’s quiet when I reach the isolation wing.
Not peaceful quiet - just the kind that screams something’s waiting to go wrong.
I press my palm to the black panel like I watched Lucian do, and the door hisses open like I’ve just accessed a top-secret government bunker.
Because apparently, that’s what this place is now. Not a house, but a heat-safe panic room from hell.
The steel door unseals with a low, hydraulic sigh-
And then the air hits me like a truck.
Jesus.
She’s everywhere. Not just in the air, but in the fuckingwalls. On the floor. On the ceiling, probably.
Pine and citrus and slick - like someone bottled up alpha ruin and sprayed it through the vents.
I step inside, and I don’t see her at first.
I see the chaos.
Lucian’s perfectly sterilized security chamber now looks like the inside of a pillow fort built during a breakdown.
Blankets are draped across furniture like she fought a couch and won. Cushions everywhere. Someone’s hoodie shaped into a pillow. The armchair’s been dragged closer to the bed like it did something wrong and now has to apologize.
