Val exhales with a chuckle. “Christ, Syl.”
“When you’re ready,” Sylvan adds, stepping closer. “Of course.”
“Master of seduction strikes again,” Luc murmurs.
Syl’s brows pinch. “Did I say something wrong?”
I shake my head, reaching for his wrist. “No, Sylvan.” My voice softens. “You’re perfect. Don’t ever change.”
He blinks at me, like he’s not sure he believes it.
I tug him closer, keeping our eyes locked. “I mean it.” The scar in his lip pulls tight as he smiles. “All of you are,” I add, glancing between them, lingering on Kaiden, whose gaze doesn’t waver.
He doesn’t say a word, but there’s something in the way he looks at me, like I’m the one giving them something.
But they’re the ones who tracked me down when I disappeared. They found the men who blackmailed me. They protected my staff and salon. Now they’re letting me stay in their beautiful home while handling the storm this video has caused like it’s nothing.
All of it without hesitation.
For me.
And for the first time in a long time, I realise how good it feels to not do everything on my own.
Revea
The night fell into one of those rare evenings filled with laughter and way too much pasta. Seeing as we’re off the grid, Kaiden had to drive nearly an hour to get the takeaway of my choice.I didn’t realise until he came back. When I pointed it out, he just shrugged like the drive meant nothing, then kissed me like it had been much longer than that.
During that hour, Val and Luc introduced me to Lyana, my PR lead, who explained the basics.
Don’t read the comments.
Don’t watch the news.
Don’t react publicly.
Sylvan spent most of the time monitoring everything online, occasionally glancing up from his laptop to confirm something with the twins, or mutter statistics under his breath. And every so often, even through his fixation, he’d break just long enough to give me a small, soft smile.
After that, I rang Margret and my brothers back to let them know my plan to return to the salon tomorrow. Margret seemed relieved, but my brothers were not, deciding they would meet me there first thing in the morning.
Unfortunately, the emotional turmoil of the last few days finally caught up with me. Once a copious amount ofcreamy pasta had been consumed, I sank onto the large sofa, surrounded by warm alphas and their combined scent.
The last thing I remember is being carried up the stairs.
Now it’s the next morning.
Thankfully, I’m able to escape the sleeping alphas surrounding the bed. They barely fit, but they’re all here. I smile, giving myself a few seconds to enjoy the scene before heading to the bathroom.
In terms of hair, I couldn’t have become famous at a better time. I’d touched up my roots and colour just before the LA convention, the pale pink fresh, no blonde peeking through. I take time to wash and blow-dry it, adding rollers, and while they cool, I stare at the small selection of clothes in my suitcase.
Eventually, I decide on a black dress I wore for a sit-down panel. It hits mid-thigh but looks businesslike with a collar and fitted shape. I throw on a pair of sleek heels that look good in photos, but kill after a couple of hours. My makeup is simple, dark around the eyes, subtle everywhere else.
And I’m ready.
The bedroom is empty when I emerge, giving me ample time to practise walking until I’m satisfied.
Downstairs, the living room is empty too, but there’s a low rumbling coming from somewhere.
Is that... music?
