Chapter 204
Kara
The SUV's headlights swept across Midnight Estate, and my stomach twisted. Every lit window felt like an accusation, a reminder of the hell I'd survived here for ten years before everything changed.
This place nearly destroyed me, I thought, fingers tightening on Blake's jacket. And now I'm choosing to come back. Am I insane? Or just too tired to keep running?
But the three presences surrounding me had shifted everything. Asher's ebony and tobacco, Blake's gunpowder and leather, Cole's mint and ozone—their combined scents wrapped around me like armor, a barrier between me and the memories that still had teeth.
Through our bond, I felt their determination. Their refusal to let this place hurt me again. It should have scared me, that possessive intensity. Instead, it just made me feel... less alone.
Cole was out first when we stopped, opening my door with the kind of careful attention that still made me uncomfortable—like I was something precious instead of the debt-slave girl who'd scrubbed these steps on her hands and knees.
He stood there, arms half-extended but not reaching. Giving me space even as I felt through our bond how desperately he wanted to carry me, shield me from even the cold.
"Let me—" he started, voice soft.
"No." Firmer than I felt. "I can walk."
I need to walk, I added silently through our bond. I need to do this myself, or I'll never believe I'm strong enough to stay.
Pride flickered across his face, followed by understanding that made my chest tight. He stepped back, but his hands trembled with the effort of not touching me.
I slid out, boots hitting snow-packed ground, and the weight of this place pressed down like a physical thing. My vision swam with memories—locked outside in blizzards until my fingers went numb, Victoria's ice-cold dismissals that made me feel like nothing, three brothers who'd made my life hell.
Breathe, I told myself. You survived Diana. You survived ten years in this house. You can survive walking up these fucking stairs.
Blake materialized at my back, close enough that his scent wrapped around me but not touching. "Breathe," he said quietly, echoing my own thoughts. Not quite a command. "You're not that scared little girl anymore."
"Aren't I?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, raw and vulnerable. "Because I feel like her right now. Like I'm eight years old again and my parents just dumped me here and—"
"You're not." Blake's voice went rough, and through our bond I felt his own memories—watching me scrub these stairs, calling me names, making everything worse. "You're our Luna. Our mate. Our fucking warrior who just escaped a blood magic cult and saved her parents. That scared little girl? She grew into someone incredible. Someone we don't deserve but are too selfish to let go."
I took a breath. Then another. Let the cold anchor me.
Asher waited at the steps, ice-blue eyes holding something I couldn't name. "Ready?" He extended his hand.
Not pulling me forward. Just offering. A choice.
I stared at that hand, remembering all the times he'd watched me fall in the snow and done nothing. All the times he'd ordered me to redo work I'd already done perfectly. All the times he'd made me feel worthless with just a look.
This is a trap, the old Kara whispered in my head. He's going to pull his hand away. He's going to laugh. He's going to—
But I wasn't her anymore.
"If I take your hand," I said quietly, "and you let go, I will never forgive you. Any of you. Do you understand?"
Something flashed across Asher's face—pain, regret, determination. "I will never let go," he said, and through our bond I felt the weight of that promise. "Not unless you tell me to. And even then, I'll fight like hell to change your mind."
I took his hand, felt the electric jolt, let him help me up. Blake moved to my other side. Cole fell in behind—not hovering, but close enough to catch me.
"I've got you," Cole murmured from behind. "We all do."
I know, I sent through our bond. That's what scares me.
We climbed together, and with each step I felt the shift happening inside me. Each stair I'd once scrubbed now felt different under my boots—still familiar, but no longer a symbol of my servitude. Now they were just stairs. Just a path to wherever I chose to go.
At the top, Cole stopped. Set me down gently on the landing instead of continuing inside, his hands lingering at my waist.
"What—"
"You walk in on your own feet," Asher said quietly, emotion thickening his scent. "Not carried. Not pulled. You choose to enter. As our Luna. As someone who belongs here because you want to, not because you have to."
My throat tightened. "You planned this."
"We talked about it on the drive," Cole admitted. "We wanted—we needed you to know this is your choice. That you have power here now."
"You're such assholes," I whispered, no heat in it. "Making this symbolic and dramatic and—" My voice cracked. "And exactly what I needed even though I didn't know I needed it."
"Just walk through the fucking door, Princess," Blake growled, voice thick with emotion I could feel rolling through our bond. "Before I lose my mind and carry you anyway because you're crying and I can't handle it when you cry."
I squared my shoulders. Looked at the open door—the threshold I'd crossed a thousand times as a servant, as a debt-slave, as nothing.
Not this time, I thought. This time I'm choosing.
And stepped across.
---
The foyer was exactly as I remembered—soaring ceilings, marble floors, the grand staircase that had always made me feel small. But pack members had gathered, and the moment I crossed inside, everyone went still.
I recognized most of them. People I'd served drinks to at parties. People whose messes I'd cleaned up. People who'd looked through me like I was invisible.
Their eyes widened as my scent washed over them. My Luna scent, enhanced by pregnancy and the triple bond, filling the space with undeniable authority.
One by one, they dropped their gazes. Bowed their heads. Showed throats in submission.
They're acknowledging you, Cole's voice whispered through our bond, warm with pride. As their Luna. As their superior.
I don't want to be their superior, I sent back, uncomfortable. I just want to not be their servant.
You're both, Asher corrected gently. Luna means you lead. But you'll never be a servant again. I'll burn this house down before I let that happen.
It should have felt sweet, this vindication. Instead, I just felt tired. Tired of the weight of their stares. Tired of performing. Tired of everything.
Then I saw Marcus and Victoria at the base of the grand staircase. Victoria's composure was intact, but tension radiated from her white-knuckled hands, her lily-scented pheromones sharp with barely controlled emotion.
Neither was looking at me.