"It's not too late," my mother insisted, her voice climbing with desperation, her hands reaching for me again, fingers clawing at the air between us. "We can fix this. We can?—"
The bayou exploded behind us.
Water erupted in a massive spray, catching the morning light like diamonds before crashing back down. Gumbo surfaced like a prehistoric god rising from the depths—nine feet of armored muscle and ancient fury, water cascading off his massive body in sheets. His scales gleamed dark and deadly in the sunlight. His jaws opened wide, revealing rows of teeth that had been tearing through flesh since before humans learned to walk upright, and he let out a hiss that sounded like death itself calling.
My mother screamed—a high, piercing shriek that sent birds scattering from the trees, that echoed across the water and came back to us distorted and afraid. My father stumbled backward so fast he fell, hitting the muddy ground with a wet thud that splattered his khakis and polo shirt. His face went white with terror, his mouth working soundlessly, his eyes fixed on Gumbo with the primal recognition of prey.
Gumbo hauled himself onto the bank with terrible speed, his massive claws digging furrows in the soft earth, positioning himself between me and my parents like a scaly, prehistoric guardian angel. His tail swept through the mud, leaving a deep trench, his yellow eyes fixed on the intruders with the patient hunger of an apex predator who had all the time in the world.
"That," I said, unable to keep the savage satisfaction from my voice as I watched my mother cower behind my father's fallen form, "is Gumbo. He's been protecting this property for years. Protecting me." I rested my hand on his massive armored back, feeling him rumble with pleasure at my touch. "And he really, really doesn't like people who make me cry."
Gumbo snapped his jaws together with a sound like a gunshot, and my mother screamed again, scrambling backward through the mud in her ruined designer clothes.
"Get out," I said, my voice carrying across the distance between us, cold and clear and final. "Get off my land. Get out of my life. And don't ever come back."
"Artemis, please—" my father tried one last time, struggling to his feet, mud coating his khakis.
Gumbo lunged forward—just a few feet, just enough to make his point—and my parents fled. There was no dignity in their retreat. My mother's heels stuck in the mud and she abandoned them, running barefoot toward the car. My father slipped twice trying to help her, his face a mask of primal terror. Theypractically fell into the sedan, doors slamming, engine roaring to life with desperate urgency.
The car reversed so fast it fishtailed in the mud, then tore down the dirt road like hellhounds were chasing it. In a way, I supposed they were.
We stood there—my pack and I, plus Gumbo—and watched until the silver sedan disappeared from sight. Until the dust settled back onto the dirt road. Until the only sounds were the bayou sounds, the birds slowly returning to the trees, the insects resuming their song, the gentle lap of water against the bank.
The adrenaline drained out of me all at once, like someone had pulled a plug.
Then my legs gave out.
Harper caught me before I hit the ground, scooping me up like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his broad chest. His flannel shirt was soft against my cheek, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my ear. I buried my face in his neck and breathed—moonshine and cedar smoke, safety and home—and the first sob tore out of me like something had been caged inside my chest for sixteen years and finally broken free.
"I've got you," he murmured, his lips brushing my hair, his arms tightening around me until I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. "I've got you, sweetheart. It's over. They're gone."
"They were going to—" I couldn't finish, couldn't form the words around the sobs wracking my body, couldn't breathe through the weight of betrayal crushing my chest. "They were invested in—they wanted to?—"
"Shh," Remy whispered, suddenly there beside us, his hand stroking my hair with infinite gentleness, his scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket on a cold night. His amber eyes were bright with unshed tears of his own. "We know, chere. We heard. It's over now. They can't touch you."
"You never have to see them again," Silas added, his voice quiet but fierce, his scarred hand resting on my ankle—grounding, anchoring, reminding me I wasn't alone. His thumb traced small circles against my skin, a point of warmth in the cold aftermath of confrontation. "They can't hurt you anymore. We won't let them. Ever."
I cried like I hadn't cried since Aunt Marguerite's funeral. Cried for the parents I'd wanted and never had. For the little girl who'd tried so hard to be good enough, to be normal enough, to be worthy of love. For the young girl who'd presented as an Omega and watched her parents' faces fall with disappointment. For all the years I'd spent believing there was something wrong with me—wrong with my dynamic, wrong with who I was, wrong with my very existence—when the only thing wrong was the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
Harper carried me inside, his footsteps steady on the porch boards, Remy and Silas flanking us like an honor guard. The screen door banged shut behind us, cutting off the outside world. Gumbo rumbled once—satisfied, protective, deadly—and settled back into the water to keep watch over his territory.
They took me to the nest. Surrounded me with warmth and scent and gentle touches—Harper's solid presence at my back, Remy curled against my front with his golden curls tickling my chin, Silas's scarred hand tracing patterns on my hip. Let me fall apart in their arms, knowing they'd hold the pieces until I was ready to put myself back together.
The nest smelled like all of us now. Like pack. Like home.
"You chose us," Remy said finally, when the sobs had faded to hiccups and my eyes felt swollen and raw and emptied out. He pressed a kiss to my tear-stained forehead, his lips soft and warm, his amber eyes shining with something that looked like wonder. "Even with everything they said. Even with everything they threatened. You chose us."
"I did," I managed, my voice hoarse and wrecked but certain, so certain it felt like bedrock beneath my feet. "I choose you. All of you. Every single time. No matter what."
"Then that's all that matters," Harper rumbled against my hair, his heartbeat steady under my ear, his arms wrapped around me like he'd never let go. "That's all that ever mattered. You're ours, and we're yours, and nothing's going to change that."
"They don't deserve you," Silas said, his pale eyes soft as he watched me, something fierce and protective burning in their depths like banked coals. "They never did. They threw away the most precious thing they ever had." He leaned in, pressed his lips to my temple, lingered there. "But we'll spend the rest of our lives making sure you know how loved you are."
I closed my eyes and let their scents wash over me—moonshine and honey and rain, braided together into something that smelled like home. Like pack. Like forever.
My parents had come to tear us apart.
Instead, they'd only proved what I'd known all along: blood doesn't make a family. Love does.
