Bastion nods and pulls me toward the door. “He’ll be at the tree outside. Let’s go.”
We hurry out the door and ignore the stares of several women waiting. Let them think what they may. After the last twenty-four hours, I’m not sure I care anymore as long as I’m with my alphas.
Bastion and I hurry outside to the city square where the massive holiday tree stands three stories high, decked with lights and ornaments from top to bottom. We’re nearly assaulted with waves of questions and photographs, and eventually meet up with Wyatt before finally seeing Ranier in the middle of a local news interview. He’s flanked by his father and three Council reps. I’m not sure what they’re talking about, but Ranier’s body language is clear: he’d rather be anywhere butright there. Somewhere, I’m sure our PR rep is losing their mind.
We approach Ranier and his father as the interview ends. His father leaves before we reach them, which I’m thankful for. But Ranier’s tight-lipped face doesn’t relax when he sees me. He’s unsure what to expect.
Ranier’s never unsure.
We only have a few moments before we’re ushered into the night’s finale of events, so I walk right up to Ranier and grab his hand and rock onto my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “You could look less like you’re about to die at the sight of me.”
Ranier breaks. He doesn’t say a word but reaches out like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff and draws me in close. He sniffs my hair and melts against me. “Emery.”
I look up at him. Our blue eyes meet and, for the first time that I can remember, tears well in his. I smile warmly. “It’s okay.”
Ranier tilts his head. His gaze darts over my shoulder and then back to me. I know exactly who he’s looking at. “My father sees this as the end.”
“Do you?”
There’s the tiniest hint of a pause before he shakes his head. “No, this is the beginning. I need time to deal with my father. It can’t happen here. But Everhart Pack is your home if you’ll have us. My father is the only loose end. I promise.”
If you’ll have us.
I won’t pretend the hurt from yesterday doesn’t still ache in a dull sort of way. And I’m sure the same is true for each of my alphas given how nasty my words were. But if the blog post is gone and everything else is resolved, forgiveness is key. Communication.
I blink. Unconditional love. Not given freely, but earned.
Unconditional love is the promise of forgiveness and trying again, of communication rather than letting things fester.
Thisis what my parents wanted for me. This is what they were afraid I’d lose by surrendering to the world of designations and packs.
But I didn’t lose it at all. I learned it alongside my parents’ love for me, for letting me go after what I wanted even when they had reservations. And in Eloise, who’s always stuck by my side.
And now in my pack, who I will return it to in kind.
I nod and then reach out for Wyatt and Bastion who have hovered in close. I draw my pack into a tight hug and kiss eachof them in turn without a single care for cameras or press. Or Ranier’s father and the Council.
“Of course,” I say when we draw back. I tilt my head so at least two of their alpha marks are showing. “I’m an Everhart, after all.”
My alphas beam. Camera flashes go off and there are more than a few cheers—and some boos. I ignore them and turn my focus to the event unfolding around us.
Our PR handler hands us all ornaments and, alongside the other packs, we add more ornaments to the trees. Behind us there are buses filled with donations for location shelters and schools. The moment eventually ends and we’re thrown to the sharks.
The press is in a feeding frenzy. They ask about the future of Everhart Pack, about unity, about whether the rumors are true that I’m leaving for another house. Ranier fields the questions with a politician’s grace, while I stick to the script and try not to let my voice shake. But the script is the truth: I am staying. And that makes it easy.
The other packs are watching. The otheromegasare watching. I see the way they look at me—some with pity, some with envy, but most with the calculated disinterest of people who know you’ll be gone soon.
How wrong they’ll be.
After the photos and some more handshakes, the tree is lit and everyone in the crowd cheers. Later, our pack heads to the same car and returns to Everhart Manor together for the first time since I left.
The drive back to Everhart Manor is a blur—city lights flickering past, faintly audible Christmas music playing through the limo’s speakers, Bastion’s hand never leaving mine. Wyatt sits to my left, quiet but resolute, and Ranier stares out the window as if memorizing the route home from scratch. The airis heavy with exhaustion and relief, the tense truce of the day holding us together now that all the speeches and staged smiles are done. For the first time since Omega Selection Day, no one is pretending. There’s just an unspoken agreement as we cross the threshold into the manor: no more running, no more hiding, and absolutely no more letting anyone else decide what we are.
We ascend the staircase together, our shoes leaving a trail of snow-melt in the entryway, my body sandwiched between three giant, weary alphas who walk like they just returned from a war. Maybe, in a way, we have. We pass through the kitchen but before I can get too far, I’m swept away by my three alphas into a tight embrace.
The moment we step inside, we are transformed—Everhart Pack, together, at last. To an outsider, it would look graceless with the way we clutch at each other, how all the composure from the event melts away into something raw and unguarded.
Bastion kisses the bridge of my nose, my cheekbones, and then the delicate arch of my jaw, tracing the outline of my face like he’s re-learning every inch of me. Wyatt’s hands are gentle but urgent, cupping the back of my head, thumb stroking my temple. His lips finding mine and then drift to my earlobe, feather-soft and reverent. Ranier’s arms wrap fully around me, pinning me between his chest and the others. He bows his head and buries his face in my hair. He just breathes me in. There’s a tremor in his shoulders, a hitch in his breath, as if the simple act of having us all under one roof again is enough to undo him completely.
