Chapter 60: We Don’t Have That Kind Of Control
"It means," Sebastian continued, his voice dropping lower, "that maybe the rule was never sustainable in the first place. It means maybe we’ve been fooling ourselves thinking we could keep our hands off her while she’s broken and scared and alone in a room down the hallway."
Nicholas felt something dangerous stir inside him.
"We made an agreement," he said. His voice was absolute. Final. "We made an agreement that we would let her recover without interference. That agreement stands."
"For how long?" Lucian asked. "How long until one of us breaks? How long until one of us can’t take it anymore and goes to her anyway? An hour? A day? Are we really going to pretend that we have that kind of control?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Nicholas opened his mouth to respond, but Sebastian beat him to it.
"He’s right," Sebastian said. "We don’t have that kind of control. Not anymore. Not with her. We’re not the same men we were before she arrived. We’re not the disciplined alphas we’ve trained ourselves to be. We’re feral. We’re desperate. And pretending otherwise is just setting ourselves up for failure."
"So what are you suggesting?" Nicholas asked. His voice was sharp. "That we abandon the rule completely? That we go to her, fuck her while she’s traumatized and dissociated? Is that what you want?"
"No," Sebastian said. "I’m suggesting that maybe the rule needs to be modified. Maybe it’s not about no contact. Maybe it’s about controlled contact. Supportive contact. Presence without the sexual component."
Lucian stopped pacing.
"That’s impossible," he said. But there was less certainty in his voice now. "You can’t be around her without wanting to...."
"Can’t we?" Sebastian interrupted. "We did it for the first few days. We held her without fucking her. We kissed her forehead without tearing her clothes off. We’re not animals, Lucian. We’re alphas. We have control."
"No, we don’t," Nicholas said flatly. He moved to the window where Sebastian had been standing and looked out at the grounds below. "We have the illusion of control. And the moment we’re alone with her, the moment we see her eyes or hear her voice or smell her, that illusion shatters."
He turned back to face his brothers.
"Yesterday," he continued, "we all agreed to keep our distance. We all agreed that proximity to her was dangerous. And twenty-four hours later, we’re already trying to find ways around that agreement. We’re already making excuses. We’re already negotiating ourselves into situations where we’ll lose control again."
Lucian’s hands clenched into fists.
"So what’s the alternative?" he demanded. "We keep her isolated? We let her sit alone in her room, convinced that we’re going to hurt her again? We ignore the fact that her terror might be destroying something fundamental inside her?"
"The alternative," Nicholas said quietly, "is that we survive these next two weeks. We let her recover. And we send her back to Shadowmere intact and whole, even if that wholeness doesn’t include the emotional comfort we want to provide."
"That’s bullshit," Lucian said. His voice was raw. "That’s complete bullshit, and you know it. You can feel what I’m feeling through the bond. You know that keeping distance is causing Kael pain. You know that Zev is going insane. You know that Rhen is barely contained. So don’t stand there and pretend that this is about protecting her. This is about protecting ourselves. This is about maintaining the illusion that we’re still in control."
Sebastian made a sound of agreement.
"He’s right," Sebastian said. "Nicholas, I respect your strategic thinking. I respect your attempt to maintain discipline. But you’re lying to yourself if you think we can maintain this distance. You’re lying to yourself if you think our wolves won’t eventually override every agreement we’ve made."
Nicholas felt something snap inside him.
"Then what do you suggest?" he said, his voice dropping to something dangerous and quiet. "That we go to her now? That we breach the agreement within twenty-four hours of making it? That we prove to ourselves that we have absolutely no control over our own actions?"
"I suggest," Sebastian said carefully, "that we visit her. That we let her know we’re not angry. That we reassure her. That we do what Agnes suggested and provide the emotional support she needs without crossing into physical territory."
"And you think you can do that?" Nicholas asked. "You think you can sit beside her, hear her breathing, smell her skin, see her fear, and not touch her sexually?"
Sebastian’s jaw clenched.
"No," he admitted. "I don’t think I can. But I think I should try. I think we all should try. Because the alternative is leaving her alone to spiral, and I don’t know if either of us can live with that."
Lucian moved toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Nicholas demanded.
"To her room," Lucian said. "I’m going to check on her. I’m going to make sure she’s okay. And if you want to punish me for breaking the rule, then do it after I know that she’s not having a complete mental breakdown."
"Lucian...." Nicholas started.
But Lucian was already walking out of the office, closing the door behind him.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Sebastian and Nicholas stood across from each other, and the air between them was thick with tension and the weight of what had just happened.
"He’s going to her," Sebastian said quietly.
"Yes," Nicholas replied.
"Are you going to stop him?"
Nicholas turned back to the window and looked out at the grounds. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His entire body was rigid with the effort of maintaining control.
"No," he said finally. "I’m not going to stop him. Because he’s right. Because Agnes is right. Because we’re all falling apart, and pretending otherwise is just prolonging the inevitable."
He closed his eyes.
"The rule is broken," he said. "The moment Lucian walks through that door, the rule is broken. And once it’s broken, it can’t be unmade. We’re going to lose control completely. We’re going to hurt her again. And we’re going to discover that we’re not the men we thought we were."
