Chapter 110
Kara
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite approval. More like... recognition. Acceptance of an inevitable outcome.
Oh, so NOW you acknowledge me. Now that I'm carrying your grandsons' marks and wearing enough money on my finger to buy a fucking car.
"Asher. Blake. Cole." He embraced each son—brief, masculine, controlled. Then his gaze returned to me. "Kara."
Not the debt holder's daughter. Not that girl. Not Carrot.
Just my name.
My wolf preened like we'd won some kind of prize. My human side wanted to vomit all over his expensive Italian shoes.
Too little, too late, you bastard.
"Thank you for meeting us, Father," Asher said smoothly. Ever the diplomat, even when his father had spent eighteen years treating his mate like garbage.
"Your mother has prepared a welcome ceremony." Marcus's tone held a warning I couldn't quite parse. "At the estate. The pack is... eager to meet their future Luna officially."
Oh fuck. Oh fuck no.
Through the bond, all three brothers tensed simultaneously. They felt it too—that this wasn't going to be the heartwarming homecoming their carefully neutral expressions suggested.
Blake's arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. His gunpowder scent spiked—protective, possessive, mine-mine-mine in a way that made me feel both safe and suffocated. "Then let's not keep them waiting."
Easy for you to say. You're not the one about to be paraded in front of a pack that's watched you scrub toilets.
---
The gates of Midnight Estate appeared through the snow. Black iron, twelve feet tall, already opening as our convoy approached like jaws swallowing us whole.
And beyond them—
"What the fuck," Blake breathed.
My thoughts exactly.
The entire front lawn had been transformed into some kind of winter wonderland nightmare. Strings of silver and blue lights wrapped every tree, making them look like they were strangling in tinsel. Ice sculptures lined the driveway—wolves, of course, frozen mid-howl like some kind of Jack London fever dream. A massive bonfire roared in the circular drive, pack members clustered around it despite the late hour.
And across the estate's stone facade, a banner in letters three feet tall:
WELCOME HOME ASHER, BLAKE, COLE & LUNA KARA
The word LUNA was bigger than the rest. Impossible to miss. Impossible to pretend was anything other than a giant "fuck you" wrapped in pretty paper.
My white musk scent went acidic with shock and rage.
"It's a trap," I whispered.
Of course it's a trap. Victoria doesn't do anything that isn't calculated to the last detail.
"It's a performance," Asher corrected grimly. "Mother's making sure everyone knows we've forced her hand."
Bingo. She's showing the whole pack that I'm here under protest. That she didn't choose this. That her precious sons are throwing away their futures on garbage.
The SUV stopped. Through the tinted windows, I could see faces turning toward us. Dozens of wolves, their scents a chaotic mix that made my newly-sensitive nose want to bleed—
Young wolves: excitement, curiosity, sweet fruit and fresh pine. They didn't remember me. Didn't know what I'd been.
Old-guard wolves: caution, disapproval, bitter herbs and frost. They remembered everything. Every time they'd stepped over me scrubbing floors. Every time they'd pretended I didn't exist.
And cutting through it all like a knife dipped in sewage—
Cheap musk. Artificial flowers. The olfactory equivalent of nails on a chalkboard mixed with desperation and too much Chanel No. 5.
Oh hell no.
The passenger door opened. Crystal appeared, all legs and cleavage in a black suit that should've been illegal in this weather. Her wine-red hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves that had definitely been professionally styled for this moment, probably at some salon where they charged more than I used to make in a month.
"Boys!" Her voice was honey and arsenic. "Welcome home!"
She didn't even glance at me.
Bitch.
Through the bond, Blake's fury ignited like gasoline meeting flame. I felt his wolf rise, felt the gunpowder scent turn to actual smoke, felt him start to move—
"Easy," Asher murmured, his black ebony scent wrapping around us both like a sedative. "Let her make the first move."
Fuck that.
I was already moving.
Every lesson from Sophia and Emma about "social warfare" crystallized in my mind. Every trashy reality TV show I'd secretly watched on my phone. Every mean girl takedown I'd witnessed in the school cafeteria.
My wolf surged forward—not in fear or submission, but in cold, calculated, absolutely murderous rage.
You want to play, Crystal? Let's fucking play.
I stepped out of the SUV before Blake could help me, before any of them could stop me. Let my heels—the black Louboutins we'd bought in Anchorage, four inches of "fuck you" strapped to my feet—click against the stone like gunshots. Let the short electric-blue dress that had seemed so bold in Hawaii now serve as armor made of sequins and spite.
And I let my white musk and snow scent explode.
Not the soft, sweet version I'd carried for eighteen years—the one that said "please don't hurt me, I'm not a threat." This was Luna scent. This was mine-back-the-fuck-off-or-lose-a-hand scent. Claiming, commanding, brooking absolutely zero bullshit.
It rolled over the assembled pack like a tsunami made of ice and fury, and I watched wolves' eyes widen, heads turn, conversations die mid-word.
Crystal froze mid-step toward Blake, her stupid smile cracking like cheap porcelain.
Yeah. That's right. I'm not the maid anymore, bitch.
I crossed the space between us in four strides, my heels steady on ice that would've sent the old me sprawling. Put my hand directly over Blake's heart—possessive, claiming, mine-mine-mine-get-your-skanky-hands-off. Looked up at him with a smile that was all teeth and zero warmth.
"Baby," I let my voice carry just far enough for every wolf in a twenty-foot radius. "We should go inside. Everyone's waiting."
Then I pulled him down and kissed him like I was trying to consume his soul.
Not sweet. Not chaste. Not "appropriate future Luna" behavior. Deep and dirty and absolutely filthy, my tongue sliding against his like I was claiming territory, my teeth catching his lower lip hard enough to make him groan and his hands fly to my waist, pulling me flush against two hundred pounds of muscle and oh fuck yes.
His gunpowder scent detonated around us. I felt his cock start to harden against my stomach. Felt his wolf rise up and sing yes-mate-ours-claim-claim-claim.
Good boy.
When I finally pulled back—and only because I needed to breathe, not because I was done—Blake's eyes were molten gold. His lips were swollen, slick with my red lipstick. And his scent—fire and leather and raw fucking want—had completely obliterated Crystal's cheap perfume like it had never existed.
The pack was dead silent.
Every eye on us. Every nose processing what just happened. Every wolf in this crowd just watched me publicly claim an Alpha in a way that left absolutely zero room for interpretation.
How do you like me now?
I turned to Crystal, keeping one hand on Blake's chest. Right over his heart. Where it belonged. Letting everyone see the three ice-blue stones on my finger catch the firelight.
"Thank you so much for helping plan this party, Crystal." I kept my smile perfectly pleasant, perfectly sweet, perfectly fucking poisonous. "You must have worked so hard. Blake, why don't you tell Crystal about our engagement? On the yacht I mentioned—you know, the one named after me?" I let that sink in for a second. "Kara's Promise." I'm sure she'd love to hear all the details."
Blake, bless his beautiful dumb jock heart, caught on immediately. His arm wrapped around my waist as he launched into an enthusiastic description of the Hawaiian sunset, Asher kneeling on the deck, the three sapphires representing three promises, three Alphas, three forevers.