It’s beentwenty-six hours since Knox marked Skyla.
Twenty-six hours of groveling.
Twenty-six hours of praying Skyla will forgive us—and her bond with Knox will take hold.
The crisp air smells like smoke and salt and the faint sweetness of Skyla’s scent drifting across the yard. Alex is manning the grill, turning the burgers with way too much focus. Knox is stretched out on the lawn chair beside me, looking deceptively calm. He hasn’t said a word in over twenty minutes.
Skyla’s in the hammock with Dakota, curled up against his chest. His fingers trail lazily up and down her arm, whispering things I can’t hear, but she does smile every so often—small, fleeting smiles, but smiles all the same.
We’ve all apologized a dozen times. Alex looked like he wanted to punch himself. Knox sounded like he was begging, which I didn’t think was possible. Me? I didn’tknow what the hell to say. I didn’t even know Knox was going to do it. And I’m glad I didn’t—saved me from having to grovel too much. But still, I’ve been acting sorry anyway. We shoulder problems as a pack, and I refuse to let my packmates carry this alone.
Skyla giggles, and I swirl the last inch of sweet tea in my glass, the ice long since melted. My gaze keeps drifting back to her, tracking every twitch, every tilt of her head, searching for something—anything—that might mean her bond with Knox took.
The thing is…I don’t want the bond to work because weneedit. I meant what I told her last night—mental bonds don’t make a pack. We’re already tied together in every way that matters.
But she deserves one.
All omegas do. Butespeciallyher.
She’s been through so much, held together by sheer will, by stubborn strength she shouldn’t have had to find on her own. And some stupid, hopeful part of me keeps thinking—maybe if the bond takes, it’ll heal something in her.
I don’t know if that’s wishful thinking or instinct talking. Maybe both.
I wish I knew what to look for, because I refuse to ask either one of them if they feel anything. That would be cruel.
Skyla laughs again, a real one this time—bright and unguarded. The sound cuts through the afternoon air like sunlight after rain.
“I can’t wait to introduce you to my sisters,” Dakota says, grinning wide. “You thinkI’mloud? Wait until you meet them.”
That earns him another burst of laughter, higher andsharper. “Oh no,” Skyla says, wiping at her eyes. “There’s more of you?”
“Three more,” he says proudly. “All betas. All disasters.”
She giggles even harder, her whole body shaking with it, until she catches her breath and sighs. “You’re lucky,” she says softly. “All I have are an omega mom and two alpha dads.”
Something in her voice changes. Small. Careful.
Then she says, “But I haven’t talked to them in over a year.” A sad smile fills her face.
The words hang there for a second before they really hit. I glance up, and Knox and Alex both do the same, heads snapping toward her like they misheard.
“Why so long?” Dakota asks, voice soft and curious.
Skyla bites her bottom lip, shoulders curling in on themselves like she instantly regrets saying anything. “My old pack wouldn’t let me talk to them,” she admits. “I don’t really know why.”
Knox’s whole body goes still. Then he shifts forward, jaw clenched, digging into his pocket for his phone. “Do you know their number?” he asks, already unlocking the screen.
The way he says it makes something swell and ache in my chest. There’s no hesitation in him, only quiet, fiercealphacertainty that says,I’m gonna fucking fix this.
Skyla stares at him, wide-eyed. “Really? You’ll let me?—”
“Yes,” Knox says simply. “What’s their number?”
Skyla hesitates for half a second before reaching out for Dakota’s hand. He helps her untangle from the hammock, murmuring something soft that I can’t catch. Her pink slippers hit the grass, and instead of going to Knox—like I expect—she walks toward me.
And sits right in my lap.
For a second, I forget how to breathe.
