"I was admiring your work," I said, gesturing to the nest. My voice came out thick, choked with emotion I couldn't quite contain. "It's perfect. Though I notice someone's Saints jersey mysteriously made it in there." I shot a look at Remy. "If you think I'm bonding with you while wearing Drew Brees's number, you've got another thing coming."
"That jersey is lucky," Remy protested, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense, his amber eyes dancing with mischief. "It's been with me through three playoff runs."
"And how many of those did the Saints win?" I arched an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest.
"That's not the point—" Remy's voice went slightly higher, defensive, his hands waving in the air like he could physically deflect my logic.
"It's exactly the point." I held his gaze, lips pressed together to keep from grinning at the way his face scrunched up in frustration.
Harper snorted, a rare laugh rumbling through his chest, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners. He rubbed a hand over his beard, failing to hide his smirk. "She's got you there."
"It's not finished yet." Harper's deep voice rumbled through the small space as he moved past me, his hand brushing my hip as he went. He lowered himself to the floor beside the nest, his massive frame somehow graceful as he settled. "Needs you in it."
"Needs all of us in it," Remy corrected, already crossing the room, bare feet silent on the wooden floor. He dropped down beside Harper, stretching out like a cat in a sunbeam, his curls fanning across one of the pillows. "Come on, chere. Don't be shy now."
"I've never been shy a day in my life," I informed him, planting my hands on my hips. "I'm savoring the moment. There's a difference."
"She's savoring," Remy stage-whispered to Harper, cupping a hand beside his mouth as if sharing a secret, his eyes never leaving mine. "Very sophisticated."
"Keep talking and see what happens," I warned him, pointing a finger at his chest, but I was fighting a smile, my lips twitching traitorously. He grinned wider, clearly delighted to have gotten a rise out of me. I looked at Silas, still hovering at the edge of the room, his scarred hands shoved deep in his pockets. His jaw was tight, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble, but his eyes—his eyes were soft in a way I'd learned to recognize.
"Silas." I held out my hand to him, palm up, an offering. "Together. All of us." He stared at my hand for a long moment, his throat working as he swallowed. Then he crossed the room in three long strides and took it, his calloused fingers wrapping around mine, warm and solid and real.
We settled into the nest together—Harper at my back, his arm heavy and comforting across my waist; Remy pressed against my front, his forehead touching mine, his breath warm on my lips; Silas curled behind Remy, his hand reaching past to rest on my hip, completing the circle.
The last light of day faded outside the windows, and the room filled with shadows and the sound of breathing. Four heartbeats, slowly syncing into one rhythm.
"I visited Marguerite today," I said into the quiet, surprising myself. I hadn't planned to talk about it—had wanted to keep that moment private—but here, wrapped in their warmth, the words spilled out like water. "Took Gumbo with me. Told her about all of you."
Harper's arm tightened around me, pulling me closer against his chest. His beard scratched gently against my shoulder as he shifted. "Yeah?" His voice was a low rumble I felt more than heard. "What'd you tell her?"
"That I found my pack." My voice cracked on the word, and I had to pause, had to breathe past the swell of emotion rising in my chest. "That I'm not alone anymore. That she was right—about everything. About this land, about waiting for the right ones, about trusting my instincts." I laughed, wet and broken. "I told her I'm going to bond with three Alphas, and that she probably would have loved every single one of you."
"Damn right she would have," Remy murmured against my lips, his voice rough with feeling. His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "We're extremely loveable."
"Debatable," I said, but I was smiling through the tears, my hand coming up to cover his. "You're definitely extremely something."
"I choose to take that as a compliment." Remy lifted his chin, affecting a dignified expression that was completely ruined by the mischief dancing in his amber eyes.
"You would." I rolled my eyes, but my hand squeezed his where it still cupped my cheek, betraying the affection I couldn't hide.
"Modest too," Silas said dryly from behind Remy, his lips twitching in that almost-smile I'd learned to treasure. His pale eyes caught a sliver of moonlight, glinting with unexpected warmth. The humor startled a laugh out of me—a real laugh, bright and surprised, bubbling up through the tears.
"She raised you to be wild," Harper said, his voice low and reverent against my ear. His breath stirred the hair at my temple, warm and steady. "She'd be proud of you for staying that way. For not letting anyone tame you into something you're not."
I twisted in his arms, craning my neck to look at him. His gray eyes were silver in the dim light, soft with something that made my breath catch.
"She would have liked you," I told him, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the scratch of his beard beneath my fingertips. "You're exactly the kind of Alpha she approved of. Strong but not controlling. Protective but not possessive. You let me be wild."
"Wouldn't dream of trying to cage you." His lips brushed my forehead, feather-light, and I felt him smile against my skin. His massive chest expanded with a deep breath, steady and sure. "Wouldn't want to, even if I could."
"What about me?" Remy's voice was light, teasing, but I could hear the vulnerability underneath—the little boy who'd never felt like enough, reaching for reassurance. He tugged at a curl that had fallen across his forehead, a nervous habit I'd noticed before. "Would she have liked me?"
I turned back to him, cupping his face in both hands, making him meet my eyes. His amber gaze was bright with unshed tears, his lashes dark and damp.
"She would have adored you," I said firmly, letting him see the truth of it in my face. "You would have made her laugh. You would have played guitar for her on the porch while she shuckedcrawfish, and she would have told you all my most embarrassing childhood stories, and by the end of the first night, she'd have been plotting to adopt you."
Remy's face crumpled, his careful mask slipping away like water through fingers, and he pressed his forehead against mine, breathing hard. His hands trembled where they cupped my face. "I wish I could have met her." The words came out thick, choked with grief for a woman he'd never known.
