Zubair paced the length of the living room, boots striking soft against the rug, shoulders tight enough to ache.

The fire had burned low, little more than coals whispering orange. The others slept. He could not.

Alexei was no where to be seen... and he had disappeared hours ago without a single word to anyone.

The couch and the oversized chair that he liked to claim for his bed were completely empty.

The blanket that he normally used was still folded over the side of the arm, the pillow had been untouched... it was driving Zubair crazy not knowing where he was. Was he hurt? Was he dead?

Seeing as he hadn’t been seen for eight hours, death was becoming more and more of the only acceptable excuse as to why he hadn’t come back after almost nine hours.

The sound of weight overhead made him stop cold. Floorboards creaked. A door moved.

Alexei appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair mussed, his shirt half-hanging off his shoulders. A grin tugged loose and easy at his mouth.

He looked like a man who had slept better than he had in months.

Zubair’s jaw locked.

There was only one room upstairs that really mattered. It was the reason why none of them had ever gone upstairs for anything other than for the greenhouse.

Zubair gritted his teeth... Alexei had just left Sera’s room after spending the night with her.

The thought struck sharp, bitter. She was still upstairs. Still in her room. With her pup. Alone. And Alexei walked down the stairs as though he had earned the right.

"Where is she?" The words broke out before he could leash them. His voice was steady, but his fists clenched at his sides.

Alexei reached the bottom step and leaned on the banister, all casual grace. "Sleeping," he replied. "She was exhausted. I figured she deserved the rest."

The grin lingered.

"She doesn’t need you deciding what she deserves," Zubair said, quieter now, heavier.

Alexei tilted his head, eyes narrowing in amusement. "You act like I carried her there against her will. She let me stay. She didn’t throw me out." He stretched, arms wide, joints popping. "Relax, Zubair. She’s fine. Better than fine."

The words cut, but it was the ease in his tone that made Zubair want to bare his teeth. He turned sharply, because if he kept facing Alexei he wasn’t sure what his hands might do.

The scrape of Lachlan shifting on the couch caught him. The man pushed himself upright, hair sticking in every direction, eyes still bleary with sleep. "What’s with the growling?"

"Nothing," Alexei replied before Zubair could. "Just our fearless leader making sure everyone’s alive and accounted for."

Lachlan’s gaze drifted toward the stairs, then back at Alexei, then to Zubair’s rigid shoulders.

A slow smirk tugged at his mouth that didn’t reach his eyes. "Ah. I see." He flopped back down on the couch, one arm over his eyes. "Don’t get your tails in a knot. She’s not porcelain. She won’t break that easily."

Zubair ignored him.

He crossed to the kitchen. His hands moved too sharp, too precise. Pan. Water. Rice. He set them down with deliberate care, each sound a counterpoint to the silence pressing in behind him.

Elias stirred from the corner chair, not as loud as Lachlan. He adjusted his glasses, eyes flicking between them. He didn’t speak, but the weight of his gaze landed square on Alexei’s grin, then slid to Zubair’s stiff back. Calculating. Listening.

Alexei sprawled onto the couch, all loose limbs and contented sighs. "You know," he said, voice just loud enough, "for a man who prides himself on control, you’re awfully rattled. What’s it to you where I sleep?"

Zubair gripped the knife harder than needed. The dried meat sliced into perfect, thin strips. "Everything she allows reflects on all of us. What you do reflects on all of us. If you forget that, you are not only reckless. You are dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Alexei laughed, sharp and amused. "I think that’s her specialty."

Lachlan snorted from the couch, still half-asleep. "He’s not wrong."

Zubair’s chest tightened. He stirred the pot too forcefully, spoon scraping metal. The smell of broth began to rise, warm and steady. It helped. A little.

"Breakfast?" Alexei asked, smug.

"For her," Zubair answered without turning.

Silence followed. But Zubair could feel Alexei’s grin without needing to see it.

He added herbs from the jar, crushing them between his fingers before sprinkling them into the water. The scent of rosemary and sage mixed with rice, filling the air.

His hands knew the motions. Simple. Solid. The one act that felt right in a world that had stripped away every rule he trusted.

Upstairs, a faint sound drifted down—the pad of paws, the dire wolf stretching. The pup’s bark carried light through the quiet.

Zubair exhaled, shoulders easing just a fraction. She was stirring. She was safe.

But the clawing in his chest didn’t stop. If anything, it pressed harder, demanding. Hers. Mine. Protected.

He had carried men on his back through fire.

He had buried comrades with his own hands when no one else could.

He had led, protected, endured.

He understood orders, process, rules.

But none of those things told him what to do when another man smiled like that after leaving her room.

He didn’t know how to keep her safe in this new world—not from claws, not from hunger, and not from Alexei’s laughter.

The spoon scraped again, loud against the pot.

Elias finally spoke, his voice even. "She chose to let him stay."

The words landed heavy, calm, undeniable. Zubair’s hand stilled on the spoon. He closed his eyes for a breath, jaw clenched, then stirred again, slower this time.

"Yes," he said at last. "She chose."

It didn’t ease the ache. It only carved it deeper.

He ladled a spoonful of broth, tasted, adjusted the seasoning. Rice softened. The meat strips curled as they cooked. Warmth spread through the kitchen, pushing back against the night.

Cooking was the only way he knew to care for her. The only language that didn’t betray him. He couldn’t give her what Alexei had taken last night, couldn’t ask for what he wanted without tearing the fragile pack apart.

But he could do this.

He could make sure when she came down the stairs, there was something waiting.

Something warm and inviting in a world that was anything but.