Chapter 231
Kara
I stood at the window of our new suite, one hand unconsciously resting on my still-flat stomach. Three days since the rescue. Three days since I'd learned I was carrying three Alpha sons. The Alaska wilderness stretched endlessly beyond our borders, and for once, the view didn't make me feel trapped.
"The whole pack's celebrating," Asher said quietly, approaching without touching—always so careful now, always waiting for permission. His ebony-and-tobacco scent wrapped around me. "News of your safe return has spread to neighboring territories. Marcus says we've received seventeen formal congratulations already."
"How many of them called me 'that debt girl' before I became your Luna?" I didn't bother hiding the edge in my voice.
His silence was answer enough. Through our bond, I felt his guilt spike.
"I'm sorry," he said finally.
"Stop apologizing." I turned to face him, taking in the dark circles under his ice-blue eyes. Three nights of minimal sleep. He'd been hypervigilant since we'd returned, as if maintaining perfect control could somehow retroactively prevent my kidnapping. "We've been over this. You found me. You saved me."
Before he could respond, the suite door burst open with Blake's particular force.
"They're here," he announced, gunpowder-and-leather flooding the room. "Sophia and Emma just pulled up. They brought—" He paused, nose wrinkling. "A lot of bags. Like, an alarming number of bags. I think one of them might actually be bigger than Emma."
Despite everything, I smiled. My friends. The two wealthy daughters who'd befriended the girl everyone else dismissed, who'd helped me see myself as something other than a servant.
"Let them in," I said. "I've been waiting to see them."
"You saw them two days ago," Asher pointed out, already pulling out his phone. "At the hospital. When they brought you those pregnancy magazines and seventeen different types of chocolate."
"Because apparently you need variety when you're eating for four," Blake finished, grinning.
The reminder sent a flutter through my stomach—not the babies moving, not yet, but my own nervous anticipation. Planning a wedding felt almost impossibly frivolous after everything. And yet, I wanted it. Wanted the normalcy, the chance to be a girl planning her wedding instead of a survivor processing trauma.
"I should go down to meet them."
Asher's hand shot out, hovering near my elbow. "You don't have to. They can come up here. You're still recovering—"
"The doctor said I'm fine. Healthy. Strong. Perfectly capable of walking down a flight of stairs."
"But you shouldn't have to," Blake said, something raw in his voice. "You shouldn't have to do anything you don't want to do. Not anymore. Not ever again."
The weight of that promise settled over me. They meant it. Would wrap me in cotton wool if I let them, shield me from every discomfort. It came from love, from fear, from guilt that still ate at them.
But I couldn't live like that.
"I want to," I said firmly. "I want to walk down on my own two feet. I want to hug my friends like a normal person. I want to feel like I'm living, not just surviving."
Something shifted in Asher's expression. Through our bond, I felt his reluctant acceptance.
"Then we'll go with you," he said. "Not because you need us to, but because we want to be there."
"And because someone needs to carry all those bags," Blake added.
We made our way down together, me in the middle with Blake on my left and Asher on my right. Close enough to feel their body heat, not so close they crowded me. A delicate balance they'd been learning—how to be present without suffocating, protective without controlling.
Cole met us at the base of the stairs, mint-and-ozone mixing with vanilla. Baking again—his stress response had resulted in enough cookies over three days to feed the pack twice over.
"They're waiting in the sitting room," he said, falling into step. "And Blake wasn't exaggerating. I counted at least seven bags."
The sitting room had been transformed into an explosion of pink tissue paper and ribbon. Sophia and Emma stood in the center, turning as we entered with such genuine joy that something in my chest loosened.
"Kara!" Emma's squeal was probably audible in the next territory as she launched forward, stopping just short when she remembered the pregnancy. "Oh my god, we have so much to talk about! The wedding, the babies—did you see the news? Someone leaked that you're carrying triplets and now everyone's losing their minds!"
"Breathe, Em," Sophia said, but she was moving forward too. She pulled me into a hug that was both careful and fierce. "We're glad you're home," she murmured. "We were so scared."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare apologize for being kidnapped," she said sharply. "That's not how this works."
Behind me, Blake made a satisfied sound. Through our bond, I felt all three mates' approval of my friends' protectiveness.
"Now," Emma said, bouncing, "we brought supplies. Lots of supplies. We're going to plan the most amazing wedding this pack has ever seen! Sophia, show her the thing!"
"The thing?" I asked warily.
Sophia pulled out a three-ring binder so thick it could be used as a weapon. "Emma made a wedding planning book. Complete with color-coded tabs, sample invitations, venue options—"
"I may have gotten a little carried away," Emma admitted, not looking remotely apologetic. "But you're marrying three Alphas simultaneously, which is literally unprecedented, so obviously the wedding needs to be epic."
"Which means it's going to be a security nightmare," Asher interrupted. "We'll need to vet every vendor, establish a secure perimeter—"
"Asher," I said gently, hand on his arm. "Maybe we could start with the pretty pictures before security protocols?"
"Of course. Sorry. I just—"
"Want to keep me safe. I know."
"We have a whole system," Sophia said. "Emma's handling flowers and decorations, I'm doing guest list and seating. We've already contacted the three best wedding planners in Alaska."
"Not Crystal," Blake said immediately, voice hard.
Uncomfortable silence fell. Crystal—who'd spent years making snide comments, who'd been involved in my kidnapping through careless gossip. She was confined to quarters pending a hearing.
"Definitely not Crystal," Emma agreed quickly. "We were thinking that woman from Anchorage who did the Alpha Summit?"
"Whatever you want," Cole said. "This is your day, Kara. Your wedding. You get to choose everything."
Our wedding, I almost corrected. But I knew what he meant. After years of having no say, they were determined to give me control.
"Can we sit?" I asked. "I want to look at everything, but—"
Blake was already guiding me to the chair with extra cushions. Asher claimed the ottoman at my feet, Cole perched on the sofa arm. Sophia and Emma settled across from me, massive binder balanced between them.
"Okay," Emma said, flipping it open. "Obviously winter wedding, because you're due in—when exactly?"
"Late September," Asher supplied. "September 28th, give or take. Though with triplets, seventy percent chance of early delivery—"
"Which means definitely winter," Sophia interrupted. "Maybe February? Enough time to plan without rushing, and you'll be showing but not too uncomfortable."
February. One months away. The timeline made my head spin even as I thrilled at making this official so soon.
"February works," I said. "What else?"
What followed was a whirlwind—color schemes (ice blue and silver), venues (pack hall for five hundred or estate ballroom for intimacy), menus (traditional Alaskan salmon versus varied buffet).
My head was spinning by the flowers section when Sophia's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, frowned, then looked up with an expression I couldn't read.
"So," she said carefully, "we need to talk about the bridal party."
"Okay. I was hoping you two would be my bridesmaids. If you want—"
"Are you kidding?" Emma interrupted. "We'd be honored! But, um, how many bridesmaids were you thinking?"
I blinked, confused by the sudden tension. Through our bond, I felt my mates' attention sharpen.