“I think I just won my Apex Trophy.”
Their groans were punctuated by laughter.
“Nope,” Rhett said without missing a beat. “That takes the best of seven and this was just one.”
Oh. A real shiver went through me. “Bring it on,” I said. “I can take you.”
“Yes,” Roan said in a low growl. “You can.”
Chapter
Forty-Two
JAY
Three days later, the world still felt like it was tilted on some sort of sweet, drunken axis. Not from booze — though yeah, maybe a little — but from everything else. From the cabin, from heat and wet skin and whispered promises that echoed in our bones. From Wren.
She wasours.
After we’d dropped her car off at her place, we were sitting in the back seat of Roan’s SUV with her hand curled over mine. We had a lot of details to work out for later, but we’d get there. I could feel the pulse of her, the scent of her bonded to ours, and every damn nerve in me buzzed like I’d had a hundred cups of coffee and a thousand heartbeats at once. She kept stealing glances at me, a little grin curling the corner of her lips, and I swear she could make my chest ache with nothing more than a look.
“I want to stop,” she said, voice determined, fierce. Eyes bright. “Get my arms tattooed. I want your marks. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Hell yes. That was my girl, unashamed, untamed, and utterly committed.
Roan’s laugh rumbled from the driver’s seat, deep and amused. “Good. Let them look. You’re ours. Everyone should know.”
Rhett leaned back from the front passenger seat, smirking, fingers brushing her arm. “And I’ll be damned if I’m letting you wear ours and notme.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Guess that settles it, then.”
She crossed her arms, glaring playfully at us, and added, “I’m also not quitting my job. I’ll fight anyone who tries to make me.”
The grins on Roan and Rhett’s faces were instant, mirrored by me. My shoulders relaxed. “Damn right you will,” I said. “We’ve got your back. All of us. Every step.”
Her fingers found mine again, squeezing, and I could feel it, her trust, her strength, her stubborn streak that had been hers long before any of us arrived in her life. She wasn’t a trophy. She wasn’t a prize. She wasWren. And the Howlers? They needed her. We needed her.
When we arrived at the tattoo studio, she didn’t hesitate. Walked in like she owned the place. Like sheownedherself. Roan and Rhett flanked me and her, all of us grinning like idiots under the bright fluorescent lights, every one of us buzzing with that same high — the cabin, the claiming, the proof of our bond that we were about to make permanent.
And when it was my turn to sit down, Wren’s marks on my arms, matching hers, I felt something deep and steady click into place. Roan was right there, one arm brushing mine, eyes glinting with that same smug pride. Rhett leaned in, fingers brushing the other side of my arm, murmuring, “Pack, Jay. Pack forever.”
I laughed, breathless, almost in tears. That’s exactly what it felt like. A pack. Sealed. No hesitations. No half-measures. Where one went, the others would follow.
Forever.
Wren’s hand covered mine again as the ink started, hot sting, pressure, and pure, irrevocable devotion all at once. And all I could do was smile and squeeze her fingers back, because every mark we wore, every line of ink pressed into our skin, said the same thing:
We are each other’s. No one else. Never apart.
By the time Roan, Rhett, and I had our matching tattoos done, the four of us were laughing, grimacing, and marveling at the permanence of it all. Wren’s eyes sparkled at the sight, fierce and beautiful. And I knew, no matter where life threw us, no matter the jobs, the Howlers, the town, the world, we would always find each other.
Pack. Bonded. Ours.
Forever.
HOWLERS CELEBRATE APEX TROPHY WIN; PR HEAD WREN FOSTER ANNOUNCES BONDING WITH KEY PLAYERS
By Madison Kline, Sports & Lifestyle Correspondent
