No one argued. No one even tried. Because we all knew it was true. Because we'd all been waiting for her, looking for her, dreaming of her long before we'd known her name or her face or the sound of her voice.Now she was here. Sleeping in our nest, surrounded by our scents, slowly healing from twelve years of fear that had nearly broken her.
We would not fail her.
I would not fail her.
"Get some rest," I told the others, keeping my voice soft so as not to disturb her, my thumb tracing small circles on her shoulder. "We'll take shifts. Someone should always be awake, watching her, in case she needs anything. But we all need sleep if we're going to take care of her properly."
"I'll take first watch," Min-jun offered immediately, his gaze never leaving her face, his body shifting into a more alert position even as he remained close enough for his scent to reach her. "I won't be able to sleep anyway."
"I'll stay up too," Tae-min added, shifting slightly closer to her feet, his hand settling more firmly near her ankle, his dark eyes determined. "Just in case."
I didn't argue. I knew they needed this — needed to be close to her, needed to see with their own eyes that she was real and breathing and finally, finally here. I settled back against the pillows, letting my hand rest lightly on her shoulder, feeling the deep indigo bond pulse steadily in my chest. The others arranged themselves around the nest, some sleeping, some watching, all of them present in a way that felt right and necessary.
Somewhere deep in my chest, beneath the worry and the fear and the overwhelming love I couldn't begin to process, a small voice whispered that maybe — just maybe — everything was going to be okay.
She was home now.
She was pack, and we were never letting her go.
Chapter Sixteen
KEIRA
I drifted. Not awake, not asleep, but somewhere in between — a soft grey space where sounds and scents and sensations filtered through like sunlight through water. I was aware of things without fully understanding them. Warmth surrounding me. Voices murmuring nearby. The steady pulse of bonds in my chest, no longer tearing me apart but humming together in something that felt almost like harmony.
Safe, my omega whispered, her voice stronger than it had been in days.We're safe. Pack is here.
Pack.
The word settled into me like a stone dropping into still water, sending ripples through my consciousness. I could feel them — all of them — their presences distinct even in my hazy state. Thunderstorm and petrichor closest, a steady anchor. Sunshine and vanilla nearby, warm and bright even in the darkness. Ocean and mint at my feet, watchful and protective. Forest and cedar wrapped around me like a blanket. Andmidnight rain and ink, quiet but present, a calm center in the storm.
I tried to open my eyes, but my body wouldn't cooperate. Too tired. Too heavy. The soul sickness had taken so much out of me, and now that I was finally somewhere safe, my body was demanding the rest it had been denied.
So I drifted.
Time became meaningless. I floated through fragments of awareness — a hand brushing hair from my face, gentle fingers checking the temperature of my forehead, the soft clink of a spoon against a bowl. Someone was talking, their voice low and worried, and someone else responded with quiet reassurance.
"...fever's going down..."
"...should we try to wake her? Get her to eat something..."
"...let her sleep. Her body knows what it needs..."
The words washed over me without fully registering, but the tones did. Concern. Care. Love. These people — these alphas — they were worried about me. They were taking care of me. They were here, surrounding me with their presence, and my body was responding to that in ways I couldn't have predicted.
The bonds were settling.
I could feel it happening — the raw, aching connections that had been tearing me apart slowly calming, slowly stabilizing. They weren't complete. I knew that instinctively, knew that there was more required to finish what had started. But they weren't at war with each other anymore. They weren't pulling me in different directions. They were... coexisting. Learning to share the space in my chest. Learning to work together instead of against each other.
This is what it's supposed to feel like, my omega murmured, wonder threading through her exhaustion.This is what we were so afraid of. And it's... it's not bad. It's not bad at all.
She was right. It wasn't bad. It was warm and safe and overwhelming in the best possible way. Like being wrapped in a cocoon of belonging. Like finally coming home after years of wandering in the cold.
Jeni's voice echoed in my memory:Breaking and completing are opposite things. Your mother's story doesn't have to be your story.
I'd wanted so badly to believe her. I was starting to think maybe I could.
I drifted deeper, letting the warmth pull me under.
