Living it.
Actually living instead of just surviving.
I lean back into the seat, letting Sage's arm wrap around my shoulders, feeling the warmth of my pack surrounding me—Blaze's laughter from the front, Jett's quiet presence, Kai's steady hands on the wheel.
This is real.
Actually real.
Not a temporary alliance.
Not a strategic arrangement that will dissolve when the threat is eliminated.
This is my pack.
My Alphas.
Mine.
The word still feels foreign.
Impossible.
Like trying on shoes that shouldn't fit but somehow do anyway.
My mind drifts back to two weeks ago.
The warehouse.
The bomb.
Hanging upside down while Kai's father explained why he'd destroyed my family.
The moment I thought I was going to die.
And the moment they came back.
All of them.
Came back for me.
Saved me.
Chose me.
Even when they could have walked away, could have let the problem solve itself, could have taken the easy path that didn't involve risking everything for a broken Omega with a body count and a head full of trauma.
They came back.
The memory makes my chest tight.
Emotion swelling—gratitude and hope and the terrifying, wonderful feeling of mattering to someone.
To multiple someones.
To a whole pack of someones who look at my chaos and violence and instability and decide I'm worth keeping anyway.
"Thank you," I whisper.
