Page 192 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“Doing it.” Minutes later, I got Damien on a video call. “You have a brother and sister.” I pointed the camera to the babies.

“Oh, they’re so gorgeous. I’m so happy for you. Can I speak to Mary?” I gave her the phone. “I’m really happy for you, Mary, I truly am, and I’m sorry for everything, and for making you feel bad for everything I did wrong.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just remember, you have siblings now, and your dads are still yours.”

“Thank you.” His voice croaked. “I’ll visit soon.”

I smiled at my pack mate. We had our omega, and our children, both here and on a call. We also had a bond that our omega had chosen before she brought our new babies into the world.

There was nothing else to want. We had everything we needed.

Epilogue Mary

Two and half years later

It was the morning of our civil ceremony, and I was in the bridal suite of the Harcourts Hotel in Oxford. My son, Rain Rye, stood in the middle of the room wearing one sock, no pants. He was like his fathers and was currently practicing for an all-you-can-eat cake challenge.

“Cake,” he announced as it crumbled on the floor.

“Yes, darling. I can see that. The cleaning staff will not be happy with you.”

Violet Blackberry, his twin sister, sat on the rug in a cloud of pale blue tulle, clutching the little bouquet Maeve had brought her, and glaring at the world because her aunt had touched her hair.

Violet had my eyes, Hudson’s devastating lashes, and the dainty menace of a woman who would one day either run a country or refuse to leave a sweet shop until everyone around her surrendered to one of her tantrums.

“No like hair,” Violet said, pushing her fingers into the braid.

“The hair has to stay pretty,” I told her.

“No pretty.”

“A compelling argument, but your aunt Maeve is somewhere close, and she braided it.”

Violet considered this. Maeve, unlike me, had acquired a reputation as someone who couldn’t be negotiated with by toddlers, dogs, alphas, or visiting Russian relatives.

“Aunt Maeve is scary,” Rain said.

“Aunt Maeve is efficient.”

Rain nodded. “Scary.”

The door opened behind me, and I caught the scent of rain, Irish whiskey, sugared blackberry, and wild violet before I saw them.

Hudson came in first, already dressed in a dark suit that made him look unfairly composed for a man whose son had smeared cream on his shoes. His black hair was threaded with a few more strands of silver at the temples now, and it suited him in a way that made me resent both time and genetics.

Lincoln followed, broader, still bearded and gorgeous, and also holding two tiny pairs of shoes in one large hand.

“You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding.”

My alphas stopped at the sight of me, and that never got old.

Underneath the robe, I wore ivory, because Maeve had said white was too harsh for my skin tone and I respected honesty. The dress was simple, soft through the waist, with sleeves that fell off my shoulders and a skirt that moved when I did. My hair was down in dark waves. My rings sat on my finger, the violet stone and the curved band with two diamonds.

Today, a registrar, two lawyers, and a truly alarming amount of paperwork were going to agree with me.

“We’re never letting you go, so luck doesn’t come into it.” Lincoln moved behind me and kissed the claim mark on the left side of my neck.

“You look...” Hudson came to the right and touched his thumb lightly beneath his mark.