“Thanks,” I muttered, escaping to the kitchen before they could ask any more questions or make any more knowing comments.

I fixed myself coffee and a simple breakfast, not having the energy or inclination for anything elaborate. As I ate, I thought about what Drew had said. The brothers had been running last night too, after I’d fallen asleep. Their control was even more tenuous than I’d realized, their wolves constantly pushing against the restraints they’d imposed.

Because of me. Because of what I did to them. Because of what I couldn’t give them.

After breakfast, I wandered toward my studio. The space welcomed me like an old friend, the familiar scents of paint and turpentine wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

I set up a fresh canvas without conscious thought, my hands moving through the familiar motions while my mind drifted. The first stroke of charcoal was tentative, searching, but soon I was lost in the rhythm of creation, the outside world fading away as the image took shape beneath my hands.

Three wolves emerged on the canvas—running through the moonlit forest, powerful and free. I captured them as I’d seen them this morning—Cade in the lead, his golden-brown fur catching the light; Logan slightly behind and to the right, his mahogany coat darker, more shadowed; Keir bringing up the rear, his pale-blond fur almost silver in the moonlight. They were magnificent in their power, their unity, their wild grace.

And they were leaving.

I hadn’t consciously decided to portray them running away from the viewer, but that’s what had emerged—three wolves racing toward the horizon, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Leaving me behind.

I stared at the nearly completed painting, my throat tight with emotions I couldn’t name. It was good—one of my best works, actually. The technical skill was there in every line, every shadow, every suggestion of movement. But it was the emotion that made it powerful—the longing, the loss, the acceptance of something that could never be.

“It’s beautiful.”

I startled at the voice, nearly dropping my brush. Drew stood in the doorway, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he studied the painting.

“Thanks,” I managed, setting down my brush before I could ruin the canvas with an unsteady hand. “It’s just a sketch, really.”

“Bullshit,” Drew said mildly. “It’s a masterpiece. And it’s breaking my heart.”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s just wolves running. Nothing heartbreaking about that.”

“It’s them leaving you behind,” Drew corrected gently. “And you letting them go.”

I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny what was so clearly depicted on the canvas before us.

“They’ll be back,” Drew said after a moment. “They always come back to you.”

“This time,” I agreed, wiping my hands on a rag. “But eventually, they’ll realize the mate bond is just… biology. Chemistry. Not real feelings. And then they’ll stop coming back.”

Drew was quiet for so long that I finally looked up, surprised to find him staring at me with something like pity.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” he asked softly. “That they only want you because of some mystical wolf mojo?”

I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance and probably missing by a mile. “It’s the truth. The mate bond forces compatibility, creates attraction. It’s not… real.”

“And what about before the Augury?” Drew challenged. “What about all those years they watched over you, protected you? Was that the bond too?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “That was… different. They were just being protective. I was the baby of the family.”

Drew snorted. “Yeah, that’s why Cade nearly took some guy’s head off at that party your senior year for looking at you too long. That’s why Logan used to sit outside your door when you had nightmares. That’s why Keir turned down an internship in London because it would mean leaving you for six months.”

I stared at him, trying to process this information. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about three alpha werewolves who have been acting strange around you for years,” Drew said, his voice gentle but firm. “The Augury just put a name to something that’s been building for a long time.”

“That’s… that’s just the mate bond forcing them,” I insisted, the familiar ache settling in my chest. “It’s biology, not… not real feelings. Not for them.”

Drew studied me for a moment, something like frustration crossing his features. “You really believe that, don’t you? That they only want you because of some supernatural compulsion they can’t control?”

I shrugged. “What else could it be? They’re alphas. I’m their fated mate. They’re just… responding to biological imperatives. Following the script nature wrote for them.”

“And what about you?” Drew asked quietly. “Is that all this is for you too? Just biology?”