Page 30 of What We Don't Say: Part One

“Bellwether will still read patterns,” Garrett continues. “They’ll ask what helps him open up to the pack and what narrows him when he’s under stress. We need an answer that protects him.”

Callie’s smile is gone now, but the happiness hasn’t left her completely. It’s still there under the new caution, still warm from lemon bars and plant leaves and Theo’s hand in her sleeve. “He seemed comfortable here,” she says.

“He did,” Garrett says. “We just have to make sure that’s enough.”

I study Garrett over Callie’s shoulder. For once, his control’s pointed in the same direction as ours, and I let myself take the relief without deciding what it means. My thumb keeps moving over the stretched place in Callie’s sleeve. “So, what’s our next step? I think we all agree we want Theo and if he accepts, we’ll have to show the Center that we can operate under their rules until the paperwork is fully signed.”

Idris sighs as he leans back in his chair. “Maybe a change of scenery for the next visit? Bellwether usually does two visits, right?”

Garrett nods. “Bring him to the campus.”

Callie perks up as she glances at him. “My campus?”

“Yeah, baby.” I brush my thumb over the stretched cuff. “Why not? It would give him a little bit of outside. More of you.” I run my nose along her cheek. “We could all have lunch together after one of your classes.”

Her face changes, startled first, then shy, then warm enough that I have to pull her closer. Garrett writes that down. “I’ll make sure the off-site visit is cleared with Bellwether.” His gaze drops to our Beta, his smile spreading a little farther across his face. “And I’ll make sure they send someone else other than Andrea.”

I snort, stuffing my face into Callie’s throat. “Good. I’ve been trying very hard not to say I didn’t like her.”

Calliope

Sloane texts me three minutes after office hours end.

Pulling in. Don’t hide in your office, sweetheart.

I look down at the message, then across the quad toward the faculty café windows. My reflection sits faintly over the tables inside, gray scarf, charcoal coat, hair pinned more carefully than usual. I loosen the scarf with two fingers and try to stop looking like I’m waiting for my pack to step into the middle of my workday.

Garrett got pulled into court before breakfast, one of those hearings he said should be simple while already packing three extra folders into his bag. Idris left for Blackline ten minutes later with his phone against his ear and his tie still loose at his throat. That leaves Sloane bringing Theo to campus alone, one Alpha, one Omega, and one approved off-site lunch wedged between Bellwether’s rules and my afternoon seminar.

My phone buzzes again before the SUV turns into the visitor circle.

Idris: Eat lunch. Actual lunch. Sloane will tell me if you don’t.

The warmth that moves through me is familiar enough to hurt. I typeyes, sirwith my thumb half-hidden in my coat sleeve, then lock the phone before the blush can climb any higher.

The black SUV pulls up a minute later. Sloane gets out first, broad shoulders filling the open driver’s door, but his smile folds smaller when he glances back at the passenger seat. I see him do it. I see the way he pulls himself in before Theo even steps down, making his body less of a wall and more of a place beside one.

He reaches me and takes my hand instead of dragging me into the hug sitting plainly on his face. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist, warm over my pulse, and the bond between us steadies around that touch.

“You wore the gray scarf,” he says, voice low enough to stay between us. “I was hoping for the blue one.”

“I’m at work,” I say, though my fingers close around his before I can make myself sound stern. “I’m trying to look like someone who can be trusted with a syllabus.”

“You do,” he says, gaze moving over my face. “You also look like someone Idris was right to threaten about lunch.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Idris has too much range from several miles away.”

Sloane kisses my knuckles once, then lets his hand lower as Theo steps out of the SUV. Theo wears a dark hoodie that hangstoo long over his hands and soft black pants tucked into worn boots. He looks at the Gothic arches first, then the fountain, then the students crossing the quad with laptops against their chests, every moving part tracked before his eyes find mine.

“Hi, Theo,” I say, keeping my voice easy. “Welcome to Briarwick. This is where I spend most of my time pretending I don’t grade papers in the café.”

His mouth moves around the shape of a greeting, but the sound doesn’t come. I leave my hand open near my side, palm up and patient, and after one long breath, he steps close enough for his sleeve to brush mine.

Sloane closes the SUV door softly. “Garrett said Bellwether approved one hour, café only, no student union, and no wandering into your office unless Theo asks.”

“That’s fair,” I say, starting toward the café slowly enough that Theo can match me without being pulled along. “My office currently has fourteen essays on my desk and one mug I’m pretending I didn’t forget there yesterday.”

Theo looks at me, then at the humanities building behind me. His fingers brush the end of my scarf once, barely there before he lets go again.