Eli woke to a scent he didn't recognize.

It was faint, like rain touching crushed violets. He searched his blanket nest for a spilled bottle or unfamiliar soap, but the scent seemed to follow him.

He pressed a hand to his throat.

For years, the collar had suppressed every change in his body. Even after its removal, the medication had lingered. Now, weeks later, his natural scent was beginning to return.

He didn't know that.

He only knew that a new scent had once meant an examination.

Lucien found him standing in the bathroom, scrubbing his wrists until the skin reddened.

“Eli,” he said from the doorway. “May I come in?”

Eli stopped. He glanced at the yes-and-no card attached to the wall and touched green.

Lucien entered slowly. He noticed the soap, the damp sleeves, and Eli's frightened expression.

“Is something different today?”

Eli nodded.

“Your body?”

Another nod.

Lucien crouched at a respectful distance. “I think your natural scent is returning. That's normal. It doesn't mean you're sick.”

Eli looked down at his wrists.

“You don't have to wash it away.”

He drew a simple diagram on a blank card: a wolf, a small flower, and a circle of scent around them.

“Every wolf has a scent,” he explained. “Yours belongs to you. Nobody else gets to decide what happens to your body.”

Eli studied the drawing. His hand hovered over the flower.

Lucien added another card showing a closed door. “If you want privacy, you get privacy. If you want company, you can ask. And if anything feels uncomfortable, tell me however you can.”

Eli picked up the privacy card, then hesitated.

“That's a good choice,” Lucien said. “I'll be in the medical wing if you need me.”

He left without asking to examine Eli.

Eli sat on the bathroom rug. His heart still raced, but the scent had not brought punishment. No alarms sounded. No one came to take him away.

By lunchtime, the other generals had noticed.

Ronan paused at the dining-room entrance, then deliberately took the chair farthest from Eli. He knew how powerful an Alpha's attention could feel.

Cassian opened a window to keep the air fresh. Adrian asked the staff to avoid scented cleaning products until Eli felt comfortable.

Silas said nothing. He simply placed Eli's favorite water glass near his cushion and walked away.

Eli watched each of them. None stared at his neck. None commented on his scent.

Lucien arrived with a small plate of sliced pears. Eli chose one and sat beside him.

Ronan's eyes flickered toward the space between their chairs. Cassian noticed and raised an eyebrow.

“Jealous of a pear?” Cassian murmured.

“Not now,” Ronan muttered.

Adrian gave them both a warning glance. Eli should never have to manage their feelings to stay safe.

That afternoon, Lucien helped Eli create a new set of cards. One showed a sun for wanting to go outside. One showed a moon for wanting rest. Another showed five small wolves with room for Eli to draw a circle around whichever companion he wanted.

Eli chose Lucien.

The physician tried not to look too pleased.

They walked through the greenhouse, where warm air smelled of soil and mint. Eli touched the leaves of a basil plant and brought his fingers to his nose.

“Better than disinfectant?” Lucien asked.

Eli nodded quickly.

Lucien smiled. “I agree.”

At the end of the greenhouse stood a bench beneath hanging flowers. Eli sat there and looked at his hands.

He traced a question mark on the fogged glass.

“Do you have a question?” Lucien asked.

Eli pointed to his own chest, then toward the distant house.

“About living here?”

A nod.

“You can live here as long as you choose,” Lucien said. “And if someday you want somewhere else, we'll help you find it.”

Eli's eyes widened. Leaving had always meant being sold or transferred.

“Not because we don't want you,” Lucien added. “Because a home should be somewhere you can choose.”

Eli looked toward the greenhouse door. It stood open. The garden beyond was quiet.

On the way back, he picked a sprig of mint and held it out to Lucien.

“For me?”

Eli nodded.

Lucien accepted it as carefully as he would have accepted a medal.

In the laboratory, scent had never belonged to Eli. Technicians recorded changes in his body as numbers on charts, and every change brought new restrictions. He had learned to fear the smallest shift in temperature or heartbeat. Now Lucien was telling him that the violet scent was simply part of being alive.

Eli spent the afternoon testing that idea. He sat near the greenhouse door and breathed in the smell of wet earth. He rubbed mint between his fingers. He touched the petals of a flower and watched a bee disappear into its center. None of those scents belonged to a person who could order him to do anything.

When Lucien offered to explain more about Omega biology, Eli considered the question before choosing yes. The physician used ordinary words, not laboratory codes. He explained that recovery from suppression could be uneven, and that a medical professional should be consulted if Eli experienced pain or alarming symptoms. There was no deadline for his body to behave in any particular way.

Eli drew a circle around the word mine in his notebook. He had learned the word from a children's book in the library. Mine was what people said about toys, houses, and favorite colors. He had never applied it to himself.

Lucien saw the circle and nodded. “Exactly. Yours.”

That night, Eli opened the small box containing his keepsakes. He took out Ronan's wooden wolf, Cassian's note, Adrian's stone, Silas's feather, and Lucien's pencil. He lined them up beside the new drawing of six figures. For a moment, he wondered whether liking all five Alphas was another mistake. Then he remembered that none had asked him to choose a favorite.

He touched the pencil last. It was worn down from use. Lucien had offered him a new one, but Eli preferred the old one because it was familiar. He put it back carefully and drew a tiny violet flower beside his own figure.

That evening, the five generals met in Adrian's office. Ronan leaned against the window. Cassian occupied the sofa. Silas stood near the door.

“He's choosing Lucien more often,” Ronan said.

“Because Lucien gives him room,” Silas replied.

“I give him room.”

“You asked him three times whether he wanted a snack.”

Ronan frowned. “He might have been hungry.”

Adrian set down his pen. “We're not competing for his attention.”

Cassian folded his arms. “No one said we were.”

Silas looked at him. “You ordered six different kinds of honey because he liked one spoonful.”

“That's called hospitality.”

Lucien laughed before he could stop himself.

Adrian's expression softened. “Whatever we feel, Eli comes first.”

They agreed. None of them yet spoke aloud what those feelings might become.

Later, Eli carried his wool blanket into the library. Five large cushions rested near the fireplace, left from the storm.

He arranged the blanket in the center.

Then he placed a small drawing beside it: six figures beneath a roof.

When the generals found it, Eli was already asleep.

His scent drifted through the room, gentle and unmistakably his.

For once, no one tried to claim it.