"I need to see her."
"She's asleep, finally."
Fin's voice was level and controlled, with just enough edge to communicate that "finally" was doing significant work in that sentence. "It took a calming tonic and over an hour to get her breathing under control. She told me what happened with your Gamma."
Fin didn't clarify where. He didn't say "in my bed" or "in my room." The omission was deliberate, but Dex heard it loud and clear.
His jaw shifted and he looked at the floor, then back at Fin.
"I've held her through a lot, Dex." Fin paused. "I have never seen her that distraught."
The words landed and Dex received them without flinching, because he had been receiving blows all night and his body had stopped registering the difference between emotional and physical.
Fin studied him for a long moment.
"Something else happened, because the level of upset I pulled out of her tonight doesn't line up with a three-second kiss."
Dex met his eyes. "Why do you say that?"
