Chapter 30
Kara
"Put the gifts in the storage room," I say finally, my voice flat. "I need time to think."
Relief flickers across their faces—tempered by understanding that this is barely a reprieve.
"Of course." Asher starts gathering boxes. "Whatever you need."
They work in silence, carrying the obscene pile of luxury down to my cramped room. I follow at a distance, watching as they carefully arrange everything on my narrow bed and the floor around it.
When they're done, they hover in the doorway. Three Alphas who could command me to stay with a single word, but instead wait for permission to even speak.
"Can we..." Blake's voice is hesitant. "Before we go. Can I—can we—"
He stops, throat working.
"Can we hug you?" Cole finishes softly. "Just for a moment. Just to... to feel like you're real and safe and here."
My wolf practically begs me to say yes. My body is already leaning toward them, traitorous thing.
My human side screams no—don't give them anything.
I find myself nodding before I've consciously decided.
Blake moves first. Slowly, telegraphing every movement like I might bolt. When he reaches me, he opens his arms—a question, not a demand.
I step into the embrace.
His arms close around me carefully. Not too tight. Not constraining. Just... holding.
He's so much bigger than me that my head barely reaches his chest. I can hear his heart hammering, smell the spike of joy-relief-mine in his scent. The heat of his body seeps into mine and I feel my nipples tighten further, my breathing go shallow.
Goddammit.
"Happy birthday, Baby," he murmurs against my hair. "I swear—I swear—I'll spend the rest of my life making you feel safe."
Something in my chest cracks.
Before I can analyze it, he releases me and Cole is there.
Cole's hug is different. One arm around my waist, the other hand gently rubbing circles on my back. His mint scent wraps around me like a cooling balm, but it doesn't stop the flush creeping up my neck or the way my thighs press together instinctively.
Fucking biology.
"You have no idea how important you are," he whispers. "Not just because of the bond. Because you make us want to be better. Because you're the strongest person we know."
The words hit harder than they should.
Then Asher.
He doesn't immediately hug me. Instead, he raises one hand and gently brushes away the tears I didn't realize were falling.
"Kara." His voice is low, intimate. "I know we have no right to ask for your trust. But if you can give us even the smallest chance..." His blue eyes search mine. "We'll prove we can be Alphas worthy of you."
Then he bends down and lifts me in his arms. Cradles me against his chest like I weigh nothing.
I gasp, hands automatically clutching his shoulders. The shift in position presses my breasts against his chest and I feel the contact like a brand. My core clenches and I bite my lip hard to keep from making a sound.
Jesus Christ, get it together.
He turns in a slow circle, and the black ebony scent of him makes me dizzy. But his hold is steady. Safe.
When he sets me down, he presses his forehead briefly to mine.
The intimacy of it steals my breath. I can feel his exhale against my lips, feel the warmth radiating from his body. My pulse is hammering in my throat and between my legs and I hate that I want more.
"Happy birthday, Kara," he murmurs.
Then they're gone.
I stand alone in my storage room, surrounded by more gifts than I've ever received in my life, trying to remember how to breathe through the ache in my chest and the even worse ache lower down.
---
The boxes mock me from every surface.
I should open them. Should at least look at what they bought.
But my hands are shaking and my wolf is howling and I can still feel the ghost of their embraces—Blake's fierce protection, Cole's gentle comfort, Asher's steady strength.
And my body is still humming with arousal that makes me want to punch something.
They hugged me.
Ten years of cruelty, and they hugged me like I mattered.
And my traitorous body responded like I was in fucking heat.
I press my palms to my face, trying to sort through the chaos in my head.
The gifts aren't the problem. The gifts are just things—expensive things, yes, but ultimately meaningless compared to the larger issue.
The issue is: do I believe they've changed?
Can people who terrorized me for a decade suddenly become safe?
My wolf insists yes. Insists the bond means they have to care now, that their instincts will drive them to cherish and guard.
But my human side remembers. Remembers every casual cruelty. Every calculated humiliation. Every moment they chose to hurt rather than help.
Regret isn't the same as change.
I need to see proof. Real proof. Not gifts or apologies or promises.
I need to watch them when they think I'm not looking. Need to see if their kindness extends beyond trying to win me over.
And I need to survive the next seven months until graduation without letting them complete the mate bond.
Because once they Mark me—once that bite sinks into my neck and their scent permanently merges with mine—there's no escape.
I'll be theirs forever.
The thought sends twin jolts through me: terror and longing, so tangled I can't separate them. My body clenches with want even as my mind recoils.
A knock on my door makes me jump.
"Kara?" Blake's voice, muffled through the wood. "We're heading back down to the party. You should... you should rest. We told Margaret you're off duty for the rest of the night."
Silence.
Then, quieter: "We won't let anyone bother you. You're safe."
Footsteps retreating.
I sink onto the bed, boxes crinkling around me, and finally let myself examine what they bought.
The iPhone box opens smoothly. The device inside is sleek, already set up with my name on the lock screen. They programmed it for me. Added me to their family plan.
The MacBook is the same—top of the line, my name engraved on the case.
There's winter clothing. A Canada Goose parka that probably costs more than a month of groceries. UGG boots. Cashmere scarves.
A Cartier bag contains something wrapped in velvet. My hands shake as I open it.
A necklace.
White gold chain so delicate it looks like frost. And hanging from it: a small wolf pendant, carved from what looks like diamond or crystal. Three tiny sapphires mark its eyes and heart—ice blue, the exact shade of their eyes.
I turn it over.
Engraved on the back: Our Luna. Our Home.
A sob catches in my throat.
They planned this. Spent time choosing something meaningful, not just expensive.
Why does that make it worse?
I set the necklace aside carefully and keep digging.
Books—math textbooks I'd mentioned wanting months ago. Art supplies. A subscription to some academic journal.
They listened. All those times I thought they were ignoring me, they were apparently cataloging my interests.
At the bottom of the pile: a simple envelope.
I open it with trembling fingers.
Inside is a birthday card—not store-bought. Hand-drawn.
Three wolves curled around a fourth smaller one. The art style is rough but earnest. Blake's work, probably.
Inside, three different handwritings:
Asher: We owe you ten years of birthdays. This is just the first. I hope you'll let us give you nine more. At minimum.
Blake: Baby, I know "sorry" doesn't cut it. But I'm going to spend every day proving I mean it anyway. Starting now.
Cole: You deserve the world, Kara. We can't give you that. But we can give you our best. Please let us try.
I press the card to my chest and let the tears fall.
Not because they're forgiven.
But because for the first time in ten years, someone—three someones—are trying to see me as more than the debt collector's daughter.
They're trying to see me.
And I don't know what the hell to do with that.