Pete's speach.

The afternoon drifted by in a haze of potluck dishes and pack activities. Brandon kept to the edges of the gathering, helping clear plates and stack chairs while avoiding Zack's searching looks across crowded spaces.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the lake, Pete stood by the stone fire pit. His strong voice carried across the yard. "Everyone gather round."

Brandon hung in the shadows as the pack gathered, watching children settle onto blankets, adults claiming spots around the flames. When Benny pulled him down beside him, Brandon's chest ached with a foreign sensation - belonging. He crossed his arms to still his trembling hands, fingers brushing the soft fabric of Zack's shirt. The scent both comforted and accused.

Pete addressed the pack, his voice booming over the crackle of the fire. Brandon watched Pete intently, unable to shake the foreign sensation blooming in his chest. The warmth from the fire mixed with something deeper - a pull he couldn't quite name. His omega instincts recognized this as pack bonding, but his mind fought against it. He wasn't pack, as Alex had stated.

"Pack," Pete began, sweeping his gaze across the gathered crowd. "I want to thank you all for coming together today," Pete continued. "Granted you all are earlier than expected but I'm thankful." some laughed at this.

This was what pack meant - not ownership or control, but connection. Brandon's chest tightened as he struggled to process the revelation. Every face around the fire reflected the same thing: acceptance. They weren't perfect - there were rivalries and disagreements - but underneath it all was an unshakeable foundation of family.

"I welcome everyone to the Harrison Pack reunion," he declared, his voice ringing clear and strong in the crisp evening air.

A wave of cheer rippled through the crowd, glasses raised high in agreement. The sound washed over Brandon like a tidal wave, leaving him momentarily breathless.

Pete's gaze softened, sweeping over the faces illuminated by the flickering firelight. "It's been quite a year for the Harrison Pack," he began, his voice a low rumble that settled over the quiet assembly.

"We've seen great successes," Pete continued, his eyes finding Blue across the fire. "Blue, since you've joined our construction firm we've secured three more contracts and business is thriving. We're all proud of the work you're putting in." A murmur of agreement went through the pack. Blue offered a tight nod, his usual stoicism firmly in place.

Pete's gaze shifted. "Here's to Alex for pushing through your studies, and making strides towards your Masters of computer science." Alex puffed up slightly, a flicker of pride crossing his features. Brandon felt a prickle of unease, Alex's earlier confrontation still sharp in his memory. Mine. Not yours.

"We've also faced loss," Pete's voice dropped, the jovial tone replaced by a somber respect. "We remember Betty and Curtis." A hush fell over the group. Heads bowed. He didn't know them, yet the pack's sorrow resonated, a shared ache. Loss. Family.

Then, Pete's expression lifted slightly. "But there's new life, new hope." He beamed at Benny, whose hand rested protectively over his swollen belly. Spencer draped an arm around his mate, his usual intensity softened with affection. "Spencer, Benny, we're all excited to meet the newest member of the pack soon."

"Four weeks and counting!" Benny called out, his voice ringing with excitement. Spencer, his face radiating love and pride, nuzzled his mate's neck.

For Brandon the image was both beautiful and excruciating, stirring fragments of memories. Flashes of a different time flickered behind his eyes - a time when he had dared to dream of holding a child of his own. He remembered the swell of hope then the whispered apology in the darkness as he cried to his empty belly in the night.

A wave of warmth and congratulations spread through the gathered members. Benny glowed, leaning into Spencer's side. Brandon watched them, a pang hitting his chest. Family. Pack. Belonging. Things he’d only glimpsed, things Lex had twisted into something sharp and painful.

Pete mentioned others – Natasha, Titus, Thor – young pups growing, finding their place. He spoke of shared meals, repaired fences, the small, everyday acts that wove the pack together. Each word painted a picture of community, of a life Brandon couldn't reconcile with his own fractured past. The words whispered at the edge of his hearing, ghosts in the firelight. He gripped the soft flannel of Zack's shirt tighter, the borrowed scent a fragile anchor.

“Now, there’s one more person we need to acknowledge tonight.” Pete’s voice cut through the warm atmosphere, a tone of reverence lacing his words.

Brandon’s heart skipped a beat as he followed Pete’s gaze to Zack, who stood near the edge of the firelight. Zack straightened, the flickering flames casting shadows across his handsome face and bright blue eyes.

“Zack has been through a lot recently,” Pete began, his voice steady and somber. “Many of you know about the incident at the Toft Gala.”

The crowd grew silent, eyes turning towards Zack with a mixture of respect and concern.

“He spent a week in the hospital recuperating from exposure to an illegal pheromone substance. Some poor Omega thought it was a good idea to try and find an Alpha with that stuff.” Pete continued, his eyes never leaving Zack’s face. "Sadly I heard that Omega died along with several others and so many were injured." Pete trailed off.

Zack nodded slightly, his expression a mix of determination and humility. Brandon could see the strain in his eyes, a testament to the battle he had fought to regain control over himself.

“This substance,” Pete said, his voice heavy with significance, “unlocked something in Zack. It unleashed his full Alpha nature that was blocked when he was in the car accident - over the coming months he'll change and emerge to his true nature." Pete smiled at him. "And pack will be here for you.” He tipped his glass to Zack who did the same to him.

Pete let out a low whistle, causing chuckles to ripple through the crowd. "Well," he finished with a grin, "let's just say our young Alpha here is going to be doing a lot of growing."

The pack laughed and chortled. A murmur ran through the crowd as Pete's words sank in.

“The Gala was a terrible event,” Pete added, shaking his head. “We’re just grateful Zack made it through.”

“Hey Hugo, what was it called?” Pete asked. "That pheromone?"

Hugo's face darkened remembering how he'd had to choke out Zack to keep him from attacking Omegas. “Omega Elixir. And something about 'Lot: Day #9,”

Omega Elixir. Lot: Day #9.

The words slammed into Brandon, stealing the air from his lungs. Lot: Day #9. His ID number. The number written on the plastic tag they’d clamped around his wrist while he pleaded and begged for an Alpha who never came.

No. Please no.

The firelight wavered as realization hit: every Omega killed at the Gala, every mate torn apart, every Alpha driven mad – that was him. His pain bottled and sold. His screams distilled into poison.

Zack had nearly died. Had been locked in a feral rage. Because of him.

My fault.

Just that morning, he'd woken in Zack's arms, let himself believe in the gentle press of lips against his temple. "I feel it too," He'd whispered. "This connection between us."

And Brandon, fool that he was, had almost confessed everything. Had almost believed he deserved the soft wonder in Zack's voice, the tender way those strong hands had cupped his face.

Now he knew – that connection was poison. His very essence had nearly destroyed Zack. Every time Zack touched him, he was touching the source of his own torture. Every kiss was tainted by the same pheromones that had driven him feral.

Monster. Weapon. Flame.

The moths came, wings beating against his skin. But now he understood – he wasn't the moth drawn to flame. He was the fire itself. The thing that burns. That destroys. That turns everything beautiful to ash.

His chest cracked open on a silent scream. Around him, the pack laughed, celebrated Zack's recovery, while the source of their pain sat among them wearing borrowed clothes and false smiles.

Murderer.

He stumbled to his feet. Had to run. Had to—