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If they’re waiting for the robot to speak, we might be here a while.

Vae’s looking right at me, but his eyes are blank, which just makes me angrier. I want him to look at me, not through me.

I want him to face the consequences of his actions. Who does he think he is, wearing a mask while he torments me? Too afraid to acknowledge his actions, choosing instead to hide like a coward.

He thinks he can turn it all off because he’s… what? Scared? He’s the big bad Alpha, not me. So why then, out of the two of us, is he the one cowering like a child?

Fates, I want to scream.

Right here, right now, I want to open my mouth and scream and scream and scream—until my throat is raw and my voice gives out. I can’t scream out loud, but I need my words to reach him on some level, so I scream silently, shoving my pain down the thread of a Bond that will never know what it is to be whole.

You are my Fated Mate! Look at me, damn you! Look at me while you try to break me, you coward!

My anger overflows, moving from my chest into my legs and arms and neck, washing over me until I fear I’ll burst into a thousand roaring flames and burn this castle down around us.

I’ll burn and burn, and I’ll make him burn with me. We’ll see how long his mask holds once he’s face to face with my fire.

Branwen’s hand wraps around mine, and the unexpected touch makes me flinch. When I glance over, I realize she must have moved her chair because now it's next to mine.

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, and when I can’t remember how to respond, she reaches for me with the hand not holding mine and places a palm to my cheek, like she knows I’m struggling to stay grounded in reality.

I take a deep breath, and she smiles, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

“Look at me,” she murmurs, and my eyes flick to hers.

“You can do this. You are so much stronger than you know.” Her eyes beg me to believe her, and Fates, I want to.

“Gods, you act like we’re about to kill her,” Silas scoffs, leaning back in his seat so it’s balancing on just the back legs. His own legs are spread obnoxiously wide, and he grins at Branwen lazily around the chewed-up toothpick hanging from the side of his mouth.

I swear I can almost feel the way he’s buzzing with excitement from across the room, like he’s only here for the show.

And at this moment, I hate him. I hate him because I know that’s the only reason he’s here—for entertainment.

“Have you ever been Alpha Commanded, you sod?” Branwen snaps, and doesn’t even pretend to care about his answer. “No. You haven’t. Because you’re an Alpha, you lot have all the bloody power. Well, I have. Once. And it was like sprinting head-first into a brick wall, only to realize you can’t get around it because the bloody thing keeps moving with you. It’s barbaric. You all are barbaric.”

No one so much as flinches at her accusation, but I’m not surprised. They’re Alphas. They don’t have to worry about things like Alpha Commands when the entire damn system is designed to fall in line around them.

I fix my attention back on Vae. “Will you get on with it?” I snap at him—a last-ditch effort to startle him out of his stupor.

Swallowing thickly, Vae glances over his shoulder at Gav. I can’t see his face, but whatever unspoken messages he sends, Gavran denies with a shake of his head.

Dax studies his Packmate with a frown. His computer is gone, and at some point, he switched seats.

I guess all it takes to get him off of his laptop is anticipation of my torment, so…. that’s nice.

Vae exhales and his shoulders droop, but he turns back around to face me. Finally, he lifts his head and looks into my eyes.

I leave myself open, letting him see everything. All the pain, betrayal, and anguish. All the fear and disappointment and dreams that never come true no matter how hard I wish for them.

I let him see the devastation caused by his rejection—official in all but name. My Omega pushes forward, and I let him see her, too. Let him suffocate on her desolation and grief. The melancholy we can’t outrun, no matter how hard we fight.

Then I find our Bond, actively seeking it out for the first time since last night. It’s as beat down as I am, curled into a tight ball and pulsing dimly. For one second I wish I could show this to Vaelenor. Make him watch the way it shrinks down, doomed to an eternity defined by the unwarranted and undeserved hate of the other half of its soul. Forced to carry on every second of every day, knowing it will never, ever be complete. By no fault of its own, there will always be something missing.

Because of him.

I make him look, watching the way his composure starts to crack and his hands curl into fists at his sides as he struggles to keep it together. I don’t know if he’s feeling the pain from our Bond the way Daxen is, but I hope so.

I can’t hide from my Fate, so why should he?