She stares up at me.
"How can you be so sure?"
I cup her face in my hands. "Because I've been waiting for you for years."
Her breath catches.
"You never belonged to him." I brush my thumbs across her cheekbones. "You don't belong to anyone. But if you choose to be with us, if you choose this family, this pack, I will spend the rest of my life proving you made the right decision."
"Sergio..."
"I love you." The words are simple. Direct. No flowery language. No poetic declarations. Just truth. "I love you. My pack loves you, and we're not going to lose you to a man who never deserved you in the first place."
She rises on her toes and presses her mouth to mine.
The kiss is soft at first, his lips gentle against mine. But then his hand slides to cup my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, and he deepens it. His tongue sweeps in to taste me—slow and thorough and devastating—and I melt into him with a soft sound that makes his grip tighten. It's a promise more than raw passion, but it leaves me breathless all the same, my fingers curled into his shirt, lips tingling when he finally pulls away.
When she pulls back, her eyes are bright.
"I love you too." She looks past me to my pack mates. "All of you."
Carlos grins. Nacho's expression softens. Pedro nods once, sharp and certain.
"Then that's settled." I release her face and take her hand instead. "Come inside. It's cold."
"What about Callum?"
"Callum is gone." I lead her through the door. "And he's not coming back."
"You can't know that."
"I can." I pause in the hallway. Turn to face her. "Because if he comes near you again, there won't be a conversation. There won't be a warning. There will just be consequences."
"That sounds like a threat."
"It's a promise."
She studies my face for a long moment. Then she nods.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"I trust you." She squeezes my hand. "I trust all of you."
I pull her close. Press a kiss to the top of her head.
My brothers file past us into the house. Carlos heads for the kitchen, muttering about comfort food. Nacho disappears toward his office to deal with the footage. Pedro lingers, watching us with an expression I can't quite read.
"You handled that well." His voice is quiet.
"I handled it the only way I could."
"He's going to make trouble."
"Let him try."
Pedro nods and moves past us, heading up the stairs.
