Chapter 192

Chapter 192
Rhea

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Jax's arms came around my waist from one side while Kael's settled around my shoulders from the other, and suddenly I was sandwiched between two very large, very warm Alpha wolves who were trying very hard not to look at each other.

"Listen to me," I said, my voice muffled against Jax's shoulder. "I will never, ever leave either of you behind. Not intentionally. Not for anything." I pulled back just enough to look at both of them. "This morning was an emergency, and I made a split-second decision. I should have called you, Jax. I'm sorry."

Through the bond, I felt Jax's hurt starting to ease, but there was still something brittle in the way he held himself. "You could have texted," he muttered, but his grip on my waist tightened.

"I could have," I admitted. "And next time, I will. But right now, what I need is for both of you to understand something." I looked at Kael, then at Jax, making sure they were both listening. "We're in this together. All three of us. That means when one of us is hurting, we all feel it. And when one of us needs support, we all show up. No exceptions."

Kael's arms tightened around me, and through our bond, I felt a wave of emotion so intense it made my chest ache—gratitude and love and the kind of desperate relief that came from finally, finally believing you weren't alone.

Jax was quiet for a moment, and I could feel him processing through our connection, sorting through the echoes of what Kael had experienced today. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its edge, replaced by something awkward and genuine.

"So," he said, directing his words somewhere over my head toward Kael, "I'm guessing your parents are real pieces of work, huh?"

I felt Kael's chest rise and fall with a long breath. "That's one way to put it."

"Yeah, well." Jax shifted his weight, and I could practically feel him searching for the right words. "For what it's worth, you're better off without them. Anyone who can't see what they've got in you is too stupid to deserve you anyway."

There was a beat of surprised silence. Then Kael's voice, dry but with an undercurrent of genuine warmth: "Was that your attempt at comfort, Wilde?"

"Don't push it, Striker," Jax shot back, but I could feel the smile in his voice. "I'm trying here."

"I noticed," Kael said, and there was something in his tone that made my heart squeeze—something that sounded almost like affection. "It was terrible, but I noticed."

"Oh, fuck you—"

"Language," Kael interjected, perfectly prim.

"You literally just told your parents to go to hell—"

"I did no such thing. I was perfectly civil."

"You told them you were done being their chess piece!"

"Yes, civilly."

I couldn't help it—I started laughing, the sound muffled against Jax's chest. Through both bonds, I could feel them starting to relax, the tension that had been coiled in both of them since this morning finally beginning to unwind.

'You two,' I sent through the bond, not bothering to hide my exasperation or my affection, 'are absolutely ridiculous.'

'We're comforting each other,' Kael sent back, and I could feel his amusement threading through the words. 'I thought that's what you wanted.'

'By bickering?'

'It's how we communicate,' Jax added, and I could feel his grin even though I couldn't see his face. 'You should be used to it by now.'

'I am used to it,' I shot back. 'Doesn't mean I have to like it.'

'You love it,' they said in unison through the bond, and the synchronized response made me laugh harder.

Out loud, Jax said, "See? She's laughing. That means we're doing great."

"That's not what that means," Kael replied, but his voice had gone soft in that way that meant he was smiling.

"Sure it is. We're naturals at this whole emotional support thing."

"We're really not."

"Speak for yourself, Striker. I'm excellent at feelings."

"You spent weeks convinced Ray was a guy and still wanted to—"

"We agreed never to talk about that!"

I pulled back from both of them, my cheeks hurting from smiling, and found them both looking at me with identical expressions of fond exasperation. Behind the banter, through our bonds, I could feel the real emotion—Kael's gratitude that Jax had tried to comfort him in his own clumsy way, Jax's relief that Kael was okay, both of them settling into the knowledge that this strange, complicated thing between the three of us was real and solid and not going anywhere.

"Better?" I asked softly, looking between them.

Kael's hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "Better," he confirmed.

Jax's arms tightened around my waist. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "We're good."

For a moment, we just stood there, the three of us tangled together in the middle of the apartment, and through our bonds I felt something click into place—a sense of rightness, of home, of finally being exactly where we were supposed to be.

Then Jax's stomach growled, loud enough to make all three of us jump.

"Okay," he announced, pulling back with a grin that was pure sunshine after storm. "Emotional crisis handled, now someone needs to feed me before I start gnawing on furniture."

Kael sighed, but I could feel his amusement. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," Jax shot back, already heading toward the kitchen.

"I really don't," Kael called after him, but the warmth in his voice and the affection flowing through our bond told a different story.

I stayed where I was for a moment, watching them move around each other in the kitchen with the kind of easy familiarity that came from months of learning each other's rhythms. Jax pulled ingredients from the fridge while Kael started gathering pots and pans, and neither of them had to ask what the other needed—they just knew.

Through the window, the Zenith training grounds stretched out in the fading light, students running drills as the sun painted everything gold and orange. Somewhere out there, the world kept turning with all its complications and challenges and impossible expectations.

But in here, in this moment, with my two mates bickering about whether garlic went in before or after the onions, everything felt exactly right.

I moved to join them, slipping between Kael and Jax at the counter, and felt both their arms automatically adjust to make room for me. Through our bonds, love and contentment and bone-deep belonging flowed in an endless loop, warming me from the inside out.

"So," Jax said, bumping his shoulder against mine, "are we going to talk about how you basically told Kael's parents to go fuck themselves? Because that was pretty hot."

"Jax," Kael said warningly, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

"What? I'm just saying, our girl's got a backbone of steel and I'm here for it."

"Our girl," Kael repeated, something soft and wondering in his tone as he tested out the words.

"Yeah," Jax said, meeting his eyes over my head. "Ours."

And through our bonds, I felt them both settle into that truth—that we belonged to each other, all three of us, and nothing was going to change that.

Home, I thought, looking at both of them. This is home.

And through our bonds, they both sent back the same thought, wrapped in warmth and certainty and unshakeable love: Home.