Even the engine seems to roar quieter.
Shade stops tapping. Viper’s arm tenses where it’s slung across my shoulders. Blaze freezes mid-flick of his lighter.
I bite my lower lip, unsure whether to double down or pretend I didn’t say it.
But this conversation needs to happen. The General might be a manipulative bastard, but he’s not wrong. Even without a volatile Omega Command or an enemy army breathing down my neck, the truth is that the Pack claiming me as theirs is inevitable. We could spend forever stuck in place, treading water, trying to heal from every wound life gave us. But I’m tired of waiting. I think I’m finally ready to say “frack it” and dive headfirst into becoming their Omega.
Viper recovers first, letting out a low chuckle. “You can’t just drop that between jokes about dismembered body parts and Daddy kinks, Sparkles.”
“Sure I can,” I reply, forcing my voice into something light. “I’m a multitasker.”
Shade coughs out a strangled laugh. Knox shifts in his seat, but I can tell he’s watching me in the mirror, calculating the exact weight of my words.
I look down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
Too late to walk it back now.
Might as well see what happens. Blaze flicks his lighter one more time before snapping it shut and slipping it back into one of his many pockets. He shifts beside me, stretching his long legs out like this is just another conversation about snacks or mission intel.
“Well, we have been playing with each other’s bits like horny rabbits,” he drawls. “Mating’s the logical next step.”
Viper groans. “That’s not how mating works, you absolute disaster. There’s a bit more to it. Like feelings. Emotions.”
“Details,” Blaze says, waving a hand, focusing back on me. “Just want you to know that if there’s a sign-up sheet, my name’s on it.”
Shade snorts softly, but he’s watching Blaze now too. We all are.
Because underneath the usual smirk, there’s a flicker of something uncertain. Not fear, exactly, but hesitation.
I shift slightly, enough that my thigh brushes his.
His smile flickers, just for a second.
“Anyway,” he says, voice a touch too loud, “someone’s gotta go last, right? Might as well be me. You might decide three mates is enou—”
“Blaze,” I say gently.
He goes quiet, but he doesn’t look at me.
I don’t push.
He can make self-deprecating jokes all he wants, but it only highlights the lingering question between us.
Is he ready to be my mate? Has he forgiven me?
Am I ready to accept him in any state he comes? Manic and fun, or sullen and dangerous.
Viper shifts beside me, his arm still around my shoulders. He leans in just enough that I feel his breath near my temple.
“Any time you say the word, it’s yes from me,” he says quietly. “I want it. I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. Just took me a while to find my courage.”
There is no teasing or hesitation. Just truth, solid and calm, like everything else about him.
His thumb rubs a slow, steady line along my upper arm, like he knows I need the touch to anchor me. My eyes sting, just for a moment.
Viper has always had my heart. Our Alpha and Omega latched onto each other instantly. When everything else is said and done, our biology was clear. We’re meant to be together.
“Figured you’d say that,” I whisper. “You know, you weren’t exactly subtle in that cellar.”
