“And yet I’m hanging off the edge.”
“You’re not hanging off...”
“My ass is literally in the cold zone. I can feel the draft.”
“Then move closer.”
He does, pressing against my side, and the four of us fit together like puzzle pieces.
Through the bond, I feel them settling. Ben’s warmth. Milo’s contentment. Elijah’s quiet joy.
And underneath it all, the steady hum of the pack bond, connecting us in ways I’m only beginning to understand.
“Thank you,” I whisper into the darkness.
“For what?” Ben asks.
“For choosing me. For waiting. For...” My throat tightens. “For giving me a family.”
Silence. Then three voices, overlapping:
“Always.”
“You chose us too.”
“Pack.”
I fall asleep smiling, wrapped in the warmth of three alphas who spent three years proving they’d show up. Who built me a nesting bench. Who brought me muffins. Who saw me when I was too scared to see myself.
My pack.
Finally, completely, home.
Epilogue
Tessa
Six months ago, I left my suppressants in a car buried under six feet of snow.
Best mistake I ever made.
Now I’m sitting on the porch swing Elijah built—wide enough for all four of us, angled perfectly toward the mountains—rubbing circles over my belly while my alphas’ combined scents drift through the open windows of the house we share.
Cedarwood and honey from Elijah’s workshop. Leather and musk from Ben’s jacket on the couch. Dark chocolate and amber from the shirt Milo left draped over the kitchen chair this morning.
And underneath it all, woven through every room, my own scent. Lavender and citrus, now permanently laced with theirs. Pack-scent.Ours.
I breathe it in and feel the bond marks on my neck pulse with warmth. Three of them, layered together. Milo’s on the left—the first to claim me. Ben’s on the right—a little rougher, placed with three years of want behind it. Elijah’s at the back of my neck—deliberate and grounding, completing the set. The man has never met a boundary he didn’t charm his way past.
The babies shift inside me, and I spread my palm wider over the swell of my stomach.
Twins.
When Dr. Lucas told us, Ben sat down on the floor of the exam room. Just folded like someone had cut his strings. Milo laughed until tears streamed down his face. Elijah went completely still, then crossed the room in two strides and lifted me off the table, burying his face in my neck while a low purr rumbled through his chest.
“You okay?” the nurse had asked, looking concerned.
“More than okay,” Elijah had said against my skin, still purring. “Perfect.”
