The next few days were hell. Beckett, still recovering but too stubborn to rest; was dead set on getting The Den fixed as soon as possible. Gabriel, meanwhile, was focused on finding the bastards responsible and making sure they never tried anything like this again. And Jonas? Jonas was playing referee, watching the two of them butt heads while trying to keep them from actually killing each other. 

It was exhausting. The argument was always the same. 

"We need to rebuild," Beckett would insist, pacing the living room of the airbnb, "The longer The Den stays shut, the more it looks like they won." 

Gabriel would cross his arms and scoff, "You can't just throw some paint on the walls and call it a day." 

Beckett turned, scowling, "I'm not --" 

Gabriel was quick to cut him off, "They're going to keep coming back, you know that, right?" the way his eyes flickered with something sharp, "They want you to rebuild. That way, they can tear it down again." 

The smaller male bristled, he took a quick glance over at Jonas as if checking to see if his dear brother was going to jump in. Apparently not, so Beckett squared his shoulders as best he could and challanged Gabriel, "So what? We just do nothing?" 

Growling, the alpha pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against, "No, we find them and we make sure they can't do it again." 

It was only after Gabriel had finished his point that Jonas finally chimed in. Or rather, he sighed heavily, rubbing his temples from where he sat on the couch, "Gods, it's like watching two wild animals circle each other." 

This time Beckett ignored Jonas, he was in full defense mode now and he sure as hell wasn't about to back down, "The Den is mine, Gabriel. I built it and I'm not going to let them take that from me." 

"I'm not saying don't rebuild, I'm saying you need to be smart about it. What's the point if they burn it down again the second you reopen?" Gabriel wasn't backing down either. 

Jonas groaned, slumping against the couch, "Alright, alright, time out you two," neither Beckett nor Gabriel looked away from one another, "Beckett, you do need to be careful," Jonas stood, stepping between them, "And Gabriel? He's not gonna listen if you bark orders at him." 

Gabriel scoffed, "Not barking, just being realistic." 

Jonas rolled his eyes, "Right, and that's definitely why your tail's all puffed up." 

That observation drew a triumphant snort from Beckett as Gabriel's face burned, "Wh-what? It's not!" 

Jonas smirked, "Adorable." he then clapped his hands, "Anyway, moving on," he turned to Beckett this time, "Look, I get why you want to rebuild. But we do need to figure out who's behind this first." 

"We already know who's behind this." Beckett grumbled.

"Victor Castellan." Gabriel added when Jonas seemed confused.

"Great! I have no idea who that is but if he's the jackass responsible, we can get the cops involved and Beckett," Jonas turned and grinned, "You can start planning the rebuild, boom...problem solved!" 

Both Gabriel and Beckett didn't match the lively omega's enthusiasm, they just stared off in opposite directions. 

"Fuck, what now?" 

"If it were that easy, I would have insisted on it from the beginning," Beckett took a seat on the couch next to his brother, leaning against his shoulder, "we know it's him but we can't prove it." 

There was a slight pang in Gabriel's chest as he watched the siblings. He wanted to be the shoulder Beckett leaned on; however, he knew he wasn't what Beckett needed in that moment. 

"We need to track down the alpha's that started the harassment, especially the one's that started the fire," Gabriel took out his phone, "Look, I'm going to make some calls, put some feelers out." He excused himself from the living room so that the brothers could have a moment. 

Once he was out of sight, Beckett sighed, "I told him what happened, now he's acting like this..." 

"You're not exactly making it easy," Jonas gently stroked his brother's hair, "I'd say throw the dog a bone but you both are kind of impossible. An unstoppable force against an immovable object." 

Beckett just sniffed at the comparison. Jonas was annoyingly on point when the time called for it. 

"You think if I go out and buy the ingrediants, Gabe will cook again?" 

"You're joking?" 

"What? The man can cook, it would be gross negligence not to take full advantage of the alpha's skill while he's feeling protective," Jonas snickered, "I mean, if you're not gonna jump on it then shit, maybe I will..." 

Beckett sat up and gave Jonas a shove, "You know what, go," he gave the other another shove, "I swear, you have no shame," Beckett wore a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Jonas could tell it wasn't genuine, "make sure to get something good, nothing weird." 

"Yes, yes, I know," Jonas jumped up, "if you need anything, just text me, got it?" 

Beckett just gave him a dismissive wave, he knew. Satisfied with the minimal answer, Jonas grabbed his wallet and phone before leaving. 

Now, he was finally alone, Beckett stood and walked to his room. With Jonas gone out and Gabriel in some other part of the house, Beckett stood at the bedroom window. His hands braced against the sill, staring out at the dimly lit street. His reflection in the glass looked foreign to him; hollow-eyed, bruised, exhausted. 

His grip tightened. Fingers aching, his ribs still throbbed, his lungs still felt raw from the smoke, but that wasn't what was hurting the most. No, what hurt was knowing that The Den might actually be gone for good. He wanted to rebuild. Gods, he wanted to. But deep down, a gnawing, ugly doubt had started to take root. Could he?

The Den wasn't just a building, it was his. Every inch of it had been shaped by his hands, carved out from nothing, built despite every obstacle thrown in his way. It had been his proof that he could make something his own. And now? 

Beckett let out a sharp breath, his shoulders trembling. 

It wasn't just a matter of cleaning up the damage. The whole place would have to be renovated -- structural repairs, rewiring, new stock, security upgrades. It wouldn't just be hard, it would be expensive. Money he didn't have. Gabriel had been right, this wasn't something he could cover up with paint. 

Beckett's vision blurred and his breath hitched before he forced it back down. He clenched his fists, his whole body trembling with barely restrained rage. They took everything. His business, his security, his control. And worst of all -- the part he could barely admit to himself -- they almost took his life. 

His lip curled in a silent snarl, his tail lashing behind him. The sheer helplessness of that moment on the floor, gasping for breath, knowing they didn't even care if he lived or died; it made his stomach churn with fury. He wanted blood. He wanted to find every single bastard responsible and tear them apart with his bare hands. And yet...

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe, gripping the windowsill like it was the only thing keeping him standing. Because under all of the rage, all the defiance, there was fear. What if he couldn't fix this? What if they really had won? Beckett's shoulders shook as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

For a moment, just a moment, Beckett let himself break. Silent. Trembling. Alone. 

Or so he thought. 

Because in the shadows of the hallway, just out of sight, Gabriel stood frozen. Watching. Listening. And for the first time, Gabriel saw the real weight Beckett had been carrying. He didn't move, didn't make a sound; because Beckett would never want to be seen like this. So Gabriel did the only thing he could do, he stayed silent and he let Beckett have this moment. Even if it killed him to watch. 

After a few minutes that felt like eternity, Gabriel quietly stepped back. He returned to the living room where he sat on the couch slowly. With a slow exhale, he dragged a hand down his face, his jaw clenching as he replayed what he had just seen. The room was dimly lit, the air still and quiet, but his mind was anything but. 

Beckett -- furious, devastated, afraid. Gabriel had known, of course. Known that Beckett was holding back, that his pride wouldn't let him show weakness in front of anyone. But seeing it -- watching him shake with rage and grief, watching him break down when he thought no one was looking -- 

It did something to Gabriel's chest; tightened it, choked him. Every fiber of his being wanted to say screw it and go comfort the omega. He had never seen Beckett like that, no one had. It was suffocating knowing that if he acted on instinct, he would most likely destroy the already fragile connection he held with Beckett. 

Beckett never let people see when he was hurting. Not physically, not emotionally. He shoved it down, buried it under that sharp tongue and defiant glare, under the sheer force of his will. But tonight? Tonight, Gabriel had seen the cracks and it made his blood boil. Not at Beckett, never at him. 

At the bastards who had done this to him. At the system that made him have to fight so damn hard just to exist. Gabriel's fingers curled into fists. His nails pressed into his palms, a dull sting grounding him. Beckett had lost everything. And yet, the moment Jonas or Gabriel was in the room, Beckett would shove all of that aside, standing tall like nothing in the world could touch him. Like he wasn't scared shitless of the future. 

Gabriel exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to fix this. Wanted to fix all of it. But he couldn't, not alone, and not without Beckett letting him. He had shifted to the edge of the couch; elbows on his knees, tail flicking behind him as frustration coiled in his gut. 

For now, he'd keep quiet. Let Beckett pretend he hadn't just crumbled under the weight of it all. But soon...soon, Beckett would have to realize that he wasn't alone in this fight. Gabriel would make damn sure he never felt like he was again.