Page 99 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

I love the bites. I love what they mean. I love that each of my mates left a claim on me the world can’t deny, and my Omega settles deeper every time I touch them, pleased by the instinctive rightness of it.

But beneath that warmth, another feeling waits.

Confusion.

When the last set of teeth sank into my skin, I braced for the change Stone promised us.

I expected a power capable of saving our world.

I braced for the bond to surge through all five of us and become undeniable, official, and transformed. Stone made the claiming sound like the missing piece. The ultimate solution. The thing that would turn my Omega Command into a weapon powerful enough to save every Demi-human.

He led us to believe that only with those bites could we be considered a real Pack.

That without a claim from an Alpha, I was somehow unfinished.

Except the last bite healed into my skin, and the bond didn’t become something new.

It strengthened. I can feel that much. Knox, Viper, Shade, and Blaze are clearer to me now. Their emotions are easier to catch when I reach for them, and their thoughts come through with less effort. The connection feels deeper and steadier, but it doesn’t feel new.

That’s the part I keep circling back to.

No hidden level of Omega Command opened inside me. No sudden answer rose from the bond. Nothing world-saving rushed in to prove Stone was right.

My thoughts drift backward, away from Stone, his objectives, and the rules he placed on us. I think about each member of my Pack and the moments I felt our bond solidify into something real.

The first time Viper chose loving me over his fear of his Blood Lust.

The moment Shade decided to forge his own place in our Pack despite his insecurities about being a Beta.

When Blaze showed me all his broken pieces and trusted that I was okay with them never fitting back together.

And Knox.

When he accepted he wasn’t perfect and didn’t have to be for me to love him.

Those were the moments that changed us.

Not some ritual mentioned in an outdated book.

Choice.

It was us choosing each other, again and again.

They’ve seen me at my best and my very worst. They’ve seen me raw and broken, explosively furious and quietly frightened. They have certainly seen my self-consciousness reach neurotic levels and learned that I can be recklessly stubborn.

Even when the rules forbade it, they didn't stop choosing me.

They’ve handed me their hunger, their damage, and their worst impulses, and even though I broke their trust once, they chose forgiveness. And in return, I gave them the most vulnerable part of me, the part that used to believe love always came with conditions, and they met it with the same promise every time.

You’re safe.

You’re wanted.

You’re ours, even on your worst days. Maybe especially on your worst days.

My fingers skim the scars again, and the ache settles into warmth.

The bites matter. Of course they matter.