Harper's lips twitched, fighting a smile. Remy grinned outright, his dimple cutting deep. Silas made a sound low in his throat that might have been approval.
"That's our Omega," Harper said, and the pride in his voice made my chest tight, made something warm bloom behind my ribs.
At my feet, Gumbo rumbled his agreement.
Feral. Wild. Unapologetically mine.
Let them come. I had teeth of my own—and a pack to watch my back.
We were ready.
Chapter Forty
Remy
She'd finally fallen asleep.
It had taken hours—hours of her pacing and muttering and pulling out old files and making lists—but eventually the post-heat exhaustion had caught up with her. I'd found her slumped over the kitchen table, face pillowed on a stack of survey documents from eighteen forty-seven, and carried her to the nest myself.
She'd barely stirred. Just mumbled something about "corrupt bastards" and burrowed deeper into my chest.
God, I loved her.
Now I was sitting on the front porch with Harper and Silas, three beers sweating in the evening heat, watching the last of the sunset bleed orange and purple across the bayou. The cicadas were screaming their nightly chorus, and somewhere in the water, I could hear Gumbo doing whatever nine-foot alligators did when their omega was safe and sleeping.
None of us had said anything for a while. That was fine. I was learning that silence with these two didn't mean the samething as silence with other people. It wasn't awkward or empty—it was just... comfortable. Like we didn't need to fill the space with noise to prove we belonged in it.
Still. Someone had to break the ice eventually.
"So," I said, taking a long pull of my beer, letting the cold wash down my throat before I continued. "We should probably talk about the bonding thing."
Harper made a sound that might have been agreement, his gray eyes fixed on the water, his massive frame taking up most of the porch swing. The chains creaked with every subtle shift of his weight. Silas, perched on the railing like some kind of predatory bird, just tilted his head slightly in my direction. Those pale eyes caught the last of the light, making them look almost silver.
"She said she wants all three of us," I continued, because apparently I was the one who had to use actual words in this conversation. "Said she'd ask again when we were sure she was sure. So... we need to figure out how this works."
"How what works?" Harper asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to blend with the evening sounds around us, his brow furrowing slightly as he turned to look at me.
"The logistics, mon ami." I gestured vaguely with my beer bottle, amber liquid sloshing. "Order. Timing. Whether we're all there for each bonding or if she wants them separate. Whether?—"
"Harper goes first," Silas said quietly, his scarred fingers wrapped around his own bottle, condensation dripping onto his knuckles. His voice was calm, certain, like he was stating an obvious fact. "He's Head Alpha."
I nodded, because yeah, that made sense. Harper had been here first. Harper had claimed his place in her life before either of us stumbled into it. More than that—Harper was the steady one. The foundation. If anyone was going to anchor her to this pack, it should be him.
"Agreed," I said, watching Harper's face for his reaction. "You good with that, big man?" Harper was quiet for a long moment, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he wasn't sure how to swallow. When he finally spoke, his voice was rougher than usual, thick with emotion he was clearly trying to suppress.
"I don't—" He stopped. Started again, his hands tightening around his beer bottle until I worried the glass might crack. "I've never bonded anyone. Never thought I would. Never thought anyone would want—" Another pause, another false start. His gray eyes were suspiciously bright in the fading light. "What if I mess it up?"
The vulnerability in his voice hit me like a punch to the chest. This man—this mountain of a man who could probably bench press a truck and definitely scared the hell out of most people who met him—was scared. Not of the bonding itself, but of not being good enough for it.
For her.
"You won't," I said firmly, leaning forward in my chair, making sure he could see the sincerity in my eyes. "Harper. Look at me." I waited until those gray eyes met mine, raw and uncertain. "You've been taking care of her since day one. You learned her coffee order. You make her pancakes. You held her through three days of heat and never once lost control when she was begging you to bite her." I shook my head, something fierce building in my chest. "You're not going to mess it up. You're going to be exactly what she needs. What you've always been."
Harper's throat worked as he swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to his beer. "Remy—" he started, his voice thick, like he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words.
"He's right," Silas said, and we both turned to look at him. He hadn't moved from his perch on the railing, but something in his posture had shifted—softer somehow, less guarded. "You'resteady. She needs steady. Especially for the first bond." His pale eyes held Harper's gaze without flinching, without looking away. "You'll be good for her. You already are."
Harper made a sound—half laugh, half something else—and dragged a hand down his face, his beard rasping against his palm. "When did you two become the encouraging ones?" he asked, his voice muffled behind his hand, but I could hear the emotion cracking through.
