And it does. It looks like a home. Like a place where Evie can feel safe and cherished, the way she always should have been.

But there's still one crucial element missing. The one thing that will really show Evie how much we want to make this right.

"The nest," I murmur, my stomach twisting with nerves. "We still need to finish the nest."

Cole appears at my elbow, his face set in determination. "The rest of the nesting materials arrived this morning. I put everything up in Evie's new room."

After that horrific night, when we found Evie collapsed and burning with fever, we all agreed that she needed a completely new space of her own. A sanctuary, free from the painful memories of our cruelty. The last thing we wanted was her coming home to stay in the room that served as the stage for our rejection.

And so we bought a larger bed, big enough for all of us to fit comfortably.Eventually.If Evie ever decides to forgive us, to accept us as her mates. It's a foolish hope, I know. A pipe dream, after everything we've done.

But I cling to it anyway.

Alphas aren't exactly known for their nesting instincts. We're warriors, protectors, providers. We leave the soft, nurturing bits to our omegas.

But this... this is important. A gesture of goodwill, a tangible symbol of our commitment to making Evie feel welcome and valued in our home.

The way we should have from the very beginning.

Damien's phone chimes, breaking me out of my thoughts. He glances at the screen, his brows drawing together. "Asher is bringing Evie home in an hour. She just got approval from her doctor to be discharged."

Shit.I thought we had more time. But then again, every second feels precious now. A gift I'm terrified of squandering.

"We need to hurry," I say, already moving toward the stairs. "The nest won't build itself."

Cole and Damien follow, our footsteps echoing in the sudden quiet of the house. The servants have dispersed, their tasks complete. It's just us now, three alphas on a mission.

We reach Evie's room and pause in the doorway, taking in the space. It's perfect. Soft and inviting, a cocoon of comfort and warmth. But it's not quite finished.

Cole hauls in the last of the nesting materials, dumping them on the bed in a haphazard pile. Blankets and pillows and furs spill across the comforter, a riot of soft color and texture.

And then I see them. The fairy lights.

"What the hell are these for?" Cole asks, holding up a tangled strand with a bewildered expression. "We can't put this shit in the bed."

I snort, shaking my head. "Omegas love fairy lights," I mutter. "They go around the headboard or something."

Damien snatches the lights out of Cole's hands, his eyes rolling skyward. "You're both idiots," he grumbles. "The fairy lights are for draping through the canopy fabrics."

He demonstrates, weaving the delicate strands of lights through the gauzy fabric hanging from the bed's four posters. The effect is stunning, ethereal, casting the room in a soft, warm glow.

Cole and I exchange an impressed glance. "How do you know that?" I ask.

Damien shrugs, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. "I did my research," he mutters.

Of course he did. Damien never does anything half-heartedly. When he commits to something—whatever it is—he goes all in.

But even as I admire his dedication, a flicker of doubt nags at the back of my mind. Damien is trying, I can see that. He's making an effort, putting in the work to make things right with Evie.

But I also know my bond-brother.

I know the darkness that lurks beneath his icy exterior, the obsession that consumes him. Daria's ghost still haunts him, an unshakable specter of the past.

He won't let her go. Not that easily.

Not without a fight.

And Evie... Evie deserves better than to be a consolation prize. A stand-in for the one who got away.