Kurt offers no resistance as they're pulled up to sit, as Miles brushes their hair back and wipes their cheeks free of tears. They can feel him, snaking into the now empty pack link, dominating the space that five much better men used to fill. His presence is pervasive, oppressive. It sickens them to the core, that he's somehow able to force his way inside without ever bonding with them, like he belongs there.

But there's nothing they can do to force him out. Even without the baby to protect, Kurt has no idea where they are, how to get back to their pack, how to re-form the broken link. Where would they even start?

Not even the sharp strikes of Miles' hand to their face prompts resistance, though they do earn the man a shrill cry from the human, frightened and pained and surprised. That hurt. Whimpering, Kurt reaches up to cover their cheek, hot and stinging from the impact of his knuckles, fresh tears wetting the throbbing skin. It's been a while since they've been backhanded like that. Not since living with their father, back in early spring.

The violence, terrifying and debilitating as it is, is almost a sick relief. This, at least, is familiar. This, they know how to deal with, how to survive, much more readily than whatever Miles did to the pack link.

"Y-Yes, sir," they choke out, cowering with fear, in pain and humiliated, but compliant. "I understand. I'm d-done, sir..."