"She'd want you to be happy," I say softly, the words feeling inadequate but true. "From everything I've learned about her, from the way you all talk about her, from the way she decorated this house and raised those kids and loved all of you—she wouldn't want you frozen in grief forever. She'd want the kids to have joy in their lives. She'd want you to find love again."
"Logically, I know that." Hunter drags both hands over his face now, and when he drops them I can see the exhaustion carved into his features. "But logic doesn't always help with grief."
"No," I agree, thinking of my parents, of the years it took Dylan to stop flinching every time someone mentioned them. "It doesn't."
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything we're not saying pressing down on all of us. I can hear the movie playing in the other room, Isaac's giggle at something on screen. The normalcy of the sound feels surreal against the heaviness of this conversation.
Then Hunter's jaw works again, like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say. He glances at Silas and Wyatt, some silent communication passing between them. Silas nods slightly. Wyatt's hand tightens on mine.
"There's something else we need to tell you," Hunter says slowly. "Something important."
My stomach drops, that familiar spike of anxiety flooding through me. "What?"
He takes a breath, holding my gaze. "At the park today, I caught your scent. Your real scent, underneath the blockers."
I stare at him, not completely understanding what he’s getting at. However, panic starts to well up in my chest as I fight the urge to slap my hand over my gland as if that would help dim my scent "So?"
"So blockers shouldn't fail like that," Silas explains gently. "Not unless something's changing. Not unless—"
"You're going into pre-heat," Wyatt finishes, his thumb still stroking my hand. "The blockers are failing because your cycle is starting. You're our scent match, Amelia. All three of us."
The words don't make sense at first. I just blink at them, my brain refusing to process what they're saying. See, I knew that but the connection between scent matches and pushing me toward a heat didn’t click.
"That's not—" I start, then stop. Because suddenly things start clicking into place. The way I've been too warm all day. The restless energy under my skin. The way my body reacts when any of them are near, the pull I feel toward all three of them that I've been attributing to attraction but might be something deeper.
"How long?" My voice comes out strangled. "How long have you known?"
"I just figured it out today," Hunter says. "At the park. And we all realized it at the same time."
"And you waited until now to tell me?" The betrayal stings, sharp and unexpected. They knew. They knew something this fundamental about my biology and they didn't say anything.
"We were going to tell you," Wyatt says quickly. "But then Raven showed up and everything went to hell and we needed to deal with that first. And honestly, we weren't sure how you'd react. If you'd panic or run or—"
"Of course I'm panicking!" I pull my hand from his, standing up abruptly. The room tilts slightly and I have to steady myself against the arm of the couch. "This is—this changes everything. A scent match means—it means biology, compatibility, it means we're supposed to—"
I can't finish the sentence. Can't articulate what a scent match means in the context of pack dynamics, of Alpha and Omega biology. That we're meant to bond, to mate, to build a life together. That this isn't just attraction or affection but something written into our very DNA.
"It doesn't have to change anything," Silas says, standing slowly, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "It doesn't mean we have to rush anything or that you're obligated to—"
"I know that," I snap, then immediately feel guilty for the harshness. "I'm sorry. I just—I need a minute. I need to think."
"Amelia—" Hunter starts.
"Please." The word comes out as close to begging as I've ever heard myself. "Just give me a minute."
I make it to the hallway before the full weight of it hits me. Scent match. With all three of them. The universe saying that we belong together, that we're meant to be a pack. After everything with Vincent, after convincing myself I'd never be part of a pack, that I was too broken for that kind of bond—and now this.
I press my back against the wall, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor, my knees pulled to my chest. My whole body is shaking, heat and cold warring under my skin. Is this what pre-heat feels like? I've been on suppressants for so long I barely remember my natural cycles, barely remember what my body is supposed to feel like when it's not chemically controlled.
Footsteps approach and I tense, but then Wyatt's voice comes soft and careful. "I'm here, sunshine. Can I sit with you?"
I nod, not trusting my voice, and he settles beside me on the floor. Not touching, just present. After a moment, Silas joins uson my other side. Then Hunter, sitting across from us in the hallway, his long legs stretched out.
"We're not trying to pressure you," Hunter says quietly. "The scent match doesn't obligate you to anything. It just means we're compatible, that our biology recognizes each other. What we do with that information is up to all of us."
"I want to try this," Silas adds. "Officially. A courtship where we bring you gifts, take you on dates, show you that our intentions are serious. Traditional things—flowers, meals, tokens that matter to you. The way Alphas are supposed to court an Omega they're serious about. Where the kids know you're important to us, that you're becoming part of the pack. But we need you to understand that the kids come first. Always. If at any point this is hurting them, if they're struggling with it, we have to prioritize their wellbeing."
"I wouldn't want it any other way," I say immediately, my voice rough. "They're the most important thing. Always."
