“Where’s your sister?” Mason asks immediately, studying me from across the table.
“Oh, she’s coming soon. Just got delayed with something.” I wave a hand dismissively, channeling casual guy energy. “Work stuff. She’ll be here. Anyway, thought this was a family event,” I say, glancing around the table pointedly. “You didn’t bring anyone? Siblings? Parents? Friends?”
Dylan grins, and it transforms his whole face from handsome to absolutely devastating. “We are family, man. This is it. The four of us.”
“We don’t have family nearby,” Mason adds, his voice softer. There’s something sad underneath the words. “Just each other. But that’s enough.”
Jasper nods. “Pack is family. Blood doesn’t always matter.”
Slater just grunts in agreement, but there’s warmth in his expression as he looks at the other three.
Something in my chest tightens painfully at that. The way they look at each other, the easy affection and absolute trust. They really are a pack. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.
“So how did you all meet?” I ask, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking. It’s just… you all seem really close. Like you’ve known each other forever.”
They exchange glances. “I grew up here,” Mason starts. “Mistberry, born and raised. My mom was an Omega, single, raising me on her own after her pack…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “They passed. One by one over the years, including my father. Accidents, illness, bad luck. She lost all three of her Alphas before I was ten years old.”
My heart clenches painfully. I can’t even imagine that kind of loss. Watching your whole world crumble, person by person.
“She never bonded again,” Mason continues. “Said her heart was too full of them to make room for anyone else. But shemade sure I knew what a real pack looked like. She wanted me to find that someday. When she passed about eight years ago, I inherited my uncle’s charter business. It was barely running, on its last legs, held together by duct tape.”
“That’s when I showed up,” Slater adds, and I’m very aware of his words. He’s staring at the table like the wood grain is suddenly fascinating. “I was in a pack in the city. High profile and successful. Corporate types, all money and image, until it imploded spectacularly.”
“Oh?”
“There was an Omega in our orbit, someone we worked with, and she…” He pauses, jaw clenching so hard I can see the muscle jump. “She left us.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Anyway, I left and came here to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life.”
The guilt in his voice is raw and real. I’m surprised he’s being so candid and open about his past.
“Mason offered me a place,” Slater continues after a moment. “A second chance I didn’t feel I deserved.”
Mason’s hand reaches across the table, gripping Slater’s forearm briefly. A gesture of support, of forgiveness, of pack.
“And I’m the hometown golden boy who came back from college completely disillusioned with city life. I missed the ocean, missed this place, missed the community. Saw them initially struggling with the business, and signed on,” Dylan adds.
“You never stop talking,” Mason says, but he’s grinning. “Pain in my ass.”
Dylan barks out a loud laugh.
“And, Jasper?” I prompt.
“Came last to the pack. Had some shit to work through. These three wouldn’t leave me alone.” He shrugs. “I was born inMistberry, but I left for a while, then returned. Been here ever since.”
The silence stretches for a moment, and it’s clear that’s all he’s offering.
“Eight years together,” Mason says, moving the conversation forward smoothly. “Built this whole damn business from almost nothing.”
I’m staring at them, genuinely moved. This isn’t what I came here expecting to find. These aren’t privileged Alphas who had everything handed to them on silver platters. They’re not the stereotypical pack of dominant assholes who think they’re entitled to everything.
They’re men who’ve been broken, lost things, or made mistakes and been hurt and somehow found each other in the wreckage.
They chose each other. Built something together from nothing.
“That’s incredible,” I say. “Really.”
Before anyone can respond, a pretty server approaches with a tray of several large platters balanced expertly on her arms.
“All right, boys, here are your usual meals,” she states.
