I typed back:We're at the cabin. Drive safe.
His response came immediately:I will. How is she?
Stronger than both of us combined.
Good.
I set my phone down, went to the window. Stared out at the dark lake, the trees silhouetted against the last of the twilight.
The bond with Luca hummed in my chest. Different than the bond with Reina but just as real. Just as undeniable.
We'd spent twelve years pretending that night after the draft didn't happen. Twelve years as enemies on the ice, rivals in every way that mattered.
But the trinity bond had changed everything.
Connected us through her. To her. To each other.
And maybe it was time we finally acknowledged what that meant.
Headlights swept across the cabin windows maybe thirty minutes later. I heard the crunch of tires on gravel, an engine cutting off.
The bond flared hot in my chest.
He was here.
The door opened and Luca walked in, still wearing his suit from the flight. His tie was loosened, top button undone. He looked exhausted. The guilt was written all over his face, sharp in his ice blue eyes.
"Roarke."
"Vale."
We stood there looking at each other across the cabin. The bond pulled between us, insistent and impossible to ignore.
Then Reina appeared from the bedroom, her hair damp from the shower, wearing one of Luca's shirts that hit her mid-thigh.
Luca's expression transformed when he saw her. All that controlled Ice King exterior cracking.
He crossed to her, pulled her into his arms.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. This is my fault. I should have anticipated this, should have protected you better."
"Stop." She cupped his face with both hands. "It's not your fault, Luca. I made my choice. I don't regret it."
I watched them from by the fireplace, felt the warmth of their bond mixing with mine. My Omega. My Alpha. Safe together in our cabin.
Our home.
We all settled into the nest on the couch. Reina in the middle, me on one side, Luca on the other. She told him everything she'd told me. The whole ugly story.
Luca's guilt intensified with every word. I could feel it through the bond, acidic and choking.
"We need to make a statement," he said when she finished. "Control the narrative before it controls us."
"Or," I countered, "we just live our lives and fuck what anyone thinks."
"The media is destroying us. Calling it inappropriate, scandalous."
"Let them. We know what we are."
