He swallows hard, then puts the necklace on, tucking it under his shirt where it belongs.
“Thank you. I’m still not letting you brand me again.”
I grin. “Deal.”
He laughs, the sound breaking through whatever knot had been sitting in his chest, and for a moment everything feels… right. Like this is exactly where we’re meant to be.
Family. Even when it’s messy.
The ride home feels different.
Everything digs now. The seatbelt against my chest, the fabric of my shirt rubbing over the new brand, the way the truck hums under my hands. There’s a steady ache with every heartbeat, but it anchors me rather than drags me down. We drop Fiona off, then head to our house. Home.
My wolf relaxes before my brain does. The moment Violet’s scent threads into the air—citrus, soap, warm skin, faint traces of coffee and herbs—something inside me unclenches.
Home.
Beau shifts uncomfortably. “You think she’ll be mad we were gone so long?”
“She told me to come home,” I say. “We’re coming home.”
The truck stops.
We step out.
Violet is waiting on the front path.
She’s not pacing. She’s not panicking. She’s standing, hands folded around her cane, head tipped slightly toward us, like she can hear every crunch of gravel under our boots.
“You’re late,” she says.
Emotion crashes through me so hard I have to laugh just to keep from choking on it. “Traffic,” I say. “Brutal this time of day.”
She smiles.
Then her expression shifts, softening, concern bleeding through. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say. “No. But… getting there.”
She steps forward, reaching out. I take her hand and press it flat against my chest, right over the bandage-covered brand.
Her brows knit. “Oh.”
“Pack mark,” I say quietly. “Mine and Beau’s. We… made it official.”
Beau shuffles closer and guides her hand to his shoulder. She touches the bandaged skin gently.
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Beau says frankly. “But, like… in a good way? Is there a good way to hurt? Because if there is, it’s that.”
She smiles. “Sometimes,” she says. “Sometimes pain means something.”
Her arms open, and we both move at the same time.
She laughs as we envelop her, one on each side, a ridiculous wolf-sandwich. Beau sniffs loudly right by her ear.
“Are you crying again?” she asks him.
