Page 180

I remember how pissed I was when I realized she was dissociating. And now… now I can see it for what it truly was—an overwhelmed, terrified Omega escaping the only way she could. It’s so fucking obvious to me now. So clear that I have to remind myself that instead of treating her response as a reaction to trauma, I told myself she was doing it on purpose. So she didn’t have to face her own guilt over what she had done to Caelan.

My grip on the dining table is so tight I can feel the wood begin to crack against my palms. There’s a scream trapped in my throat. Gods… I can’t fucking breathe.

For patients with CSDD, dissociation is the primary symptom medical providers are taught to watch for. It comes on fast, but more importantly, it's one of the most advanced symptoms—and one of the most dangerous.

If those moments in the library weren’t trauma responses, then that means I spent every fucking day assuming she was nowhere near the danger zone, when in reality she’s been there from the moment she arrived.

Which means... she's been sick for a very, very long time. A dangerously long time.

“How did you know that?” The Omega’s fingers pinch at the fabric of her shirt. My own twitch in response as my Alpha surges forward, snarling at her obvious distress. Adrenaline is coursing through me, overloading my system with the need to move. Stand up. Go to her. Do… something.

What the fuck would I even say? Sorry I almost killed you? Sorry I refused to see what was right in front of my face, and now you’re suffering for my fucking pride?

It’s like I was in a fever dream—so hellbent on being right and so pissed that Caelan ignored my warnings and almost died that nothing else mattered except making her pay.

Caelan reaches for Idril’s hand and tugs on it, tenderly pulling her onto his lap.

Calder crouches down until he’s eye level with her. “Idril. How long have you been losing time?”

Tears fill her eyes, and she visibly deflates, falling back against Caelan’s chest. His expression twists with grief, like his very soul is reacting to her pain. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and buries his face in her hair. Like he can’t bear to face the reality of what she’s been through.

“It started maybe two days after I got here,” she answers. “At least, that’s the first time I noticed it. I was worried about Caelan and couldn’t fall asleep. I remember staring out the window at the moon and the next thing I knew, the moon was halfway across the sky.”

“How often has that happened since the first time?”

“Maybe… once a day. Sometimes twice. I blink and time’s just… gone. And it’s just blank. Like someone cut the whole memory away.”

Calder pulls out a chair and takes a seat, leaning back and studying her. “Well, the good news is, the missing time should stop as your instincts realign—if it hasn’t already.”

“But why is it happening?” she asks, and suddenly I want to stand up and run away from this conversation with shocking urgency.

“It’s a coping mechanism,” Calder explains. “It’s your instinct and brain’s way of saying, ‘We’re done here. Everything hurts. Wake us up when this is over.’”

Caelan’s eyes snap toward Vae and me. Furious. Sharp as blades.

As sharp as the blades in my chest. The ones that are twisting, twisting, twisting.

Calder’s expression twists in disgust. “It happens to Omegas when their instincts are deprived to the point of starvation. They become an empty shell, right in front of your eyes.”

My stomach rolls, and my mouth fills with saliva. I swallow thickly, willing myself not to puke. I lift a shaking hand to my neck, convinced the truth is about to strangle me.

I’m fucking choking on it.

Idril shifts on Caelan’s lap, shrugging in answer to the whispered question Calder asks her. My gaze is drawn to her lap, where her fingers subtly twist in the fabric of her shirt, curling and uncurling as the pads of her fingers rub the soft cotton.

I can’t look away. It’s something I’ve watched her do over and over for weeks.

At first, I thought it was a nervous tick. Just an anxious girl’s subconscious attempt at self-soothing.

Then I took it further, using it as yet another piece of ‘evidence’ against her. I refused to listen to Riven. Refused to even acknowledge his accusation in the library. Why? Why did I dismiss him?

Because watching her now… It’s so fucking clear. She was never simply self-soothing.

She’s been Nesting.

Even surrounded by two Alphas who clearly love her, she still doesn’t feel safe.

A mentally and emotionally healthy Omega in Idril’s position wouldn’t be using her clothing to Nest. She’d turn to her Mate. Press her nose into his neck and seek out his scent to soothe herself. She’d have a soft, thick blanket—one she could curl up with in case her instincts start to spiral.