Chapter 50
Kara
Blake carries me like I weigh nothing—his bare chest blazing with body heat even in the blizzard, his gunpowder scent wrapping around me like a drug. I should be cold. I am cold—my toes are numb, my fingers are stiff—but his warmth is overwhelming everything else.
The guilt, though.
The guilt is worse than the cold.
"I'm sorry," I manage as we burst through the estate's front doors. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't." Blake's voice is rough, almost broken. "Don't apologize for being terrified of us. We earned that terror."
Asher is already barking orders at the staff—hot water bottles, blankets, check her extremities for frostbite—while Cole is stripping off his own soaked clothes and pulling on a dry hoodie. They move with terrifying efficiency, like they've practiced this scenario a hundred times.
Maybe they have.
Maybe I'm not the first person they've had to save from their own toxicity.
Blake carries me up to my new room—the room with the tub—and sets me down gently on the edge of the bathtub. Asher is already running the water, testing the temperature with his wrist like he's preparing a bath for a child.
"Not too hot," he mutters. "We need to warm her up gradually or she'll go into shock—"
"I know," Blake snaps, but there's no real heat in it. Just fear.
Cole appears with an armful of towels, his peppermint scent soothing and clinical. "Kara, we need to get you out of these wet clothes. Can you do that yourself, or—"
"I can do it." My voice sounds distant, robotic. "Just... turn around."
They do.
All three of them, backs to me, shoulders rigid with tension, while I peel off my soaked sweater and sweatpants with clumsy, shaking fingers. My wolf is screaming at me to let them help, to let them see, to let them touch—
But I can't.
Not yet.
"I'm in," I whisper, and I sink into the hot water with a hiss of pain-pleasure as warmth floods back into my frozen limbs.
They turn back slowly, their eyes scanning my face for signs of distress. I keep everything below my collarbones submerged, hidden beneath a mountain of bubbles.
"We need to talk," Asher says quietly, perching on the edge of the tub. Blake sits on the floor, his back against the wall, while Cole hovers near the door like he's ready to bolt if I ask him to.
"About the debt," Asher continues. "The real debt."
I close my eyes. "I don't want to know the number."
"Too bad." His voice is firm. "You're going to hear it, and you're going to understand that it's over."
---
Asher
She looks so small in that tub.
Golden curls plastered to her skull, brown eyes wide and haunted, her body curled in on itself like she's trying to take up as little space as possible.
This is what we did to her.
Ten years of making her feel like she was only worth the labor she could provide, like her existence was a burden, like every breath she took was borrowed and had to be repaid.
And then, three days ago, we bombard her with gifts and attention and promises, and we're surprised when she panics?
"You don't owe us a single fucking cent," Cole adds fiercely. "Not for the past. Not for the gifts. Not for anything."
Kara's mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Tears spill down her cheeks.
"But—the car—the clothes—"
"Gifts," I repeat, leaning forward. "From your mates. Not from your creditors. We want to spoil you, Kara. We want to give you everything you should've had from the beginning. But if it makes you feel trapped, if it makes you think you can't leave—"
"We'll take it all back," Blake says flatly. "Every goddamn thing. If that's what it takes for you to believe we're not trying to own you."
The silence stretches.
Finally, Kara whispers, "I don't want you to take it back."
Relief floods through the mind-link, making my wolf howl with joy.
"But I need you to understand," she continues, her voice shaking, "that I'm still terrified. Of you. Of this. Of the fact that my body wants you even when my brain is screaming at me to run."
"We know," Cole says softly. "We know, and we're going to prove—every single day—that you can trust us. Even if it takes the rest of our lives."
Blake's gunpowder scent softens, and he crawls closer to the tub, resting his forehead against the porcelain edge. "Tonight's date is still on, if you want it. But if you'd rather just... exist. In your new room. Alone. We'll respect that too."
Kara stares at him for a long moment.
Then she reaches out—her hand pale and waterlogged—and touches his hair.
Just once.
Just for a second.
"I'll go," she whispers. "But if I say stop—"
"We stop," I promise. "No questions asked."
---
kara
They leave me to soak—really soak, for the first time in my life—and I let myself cry until the water cools and my fingers are pruny and the sun is setting outside the window.
When I finally emerge, wrapped in the fluffiest towel I've ever touched, I find the ice-blue velvet outfit laid out on my bed with a handwritten note in Cole's looping script:
> Dear Kara,
>
> Tonight we're taking you to see the aurora. It's Alaska's most beautiful gift, and we want to give it to you as our promise—no matter what happens, we'll always be the brightest lights in your sky.
>
> Love,
>
> Cole, Blake & Asher
>
> P.S. If you don't want to go, just text. We'll bring dinner to your room instead.
I stare at the note until the words blur.
They're giving me a choice.
For ten years, no one asked me what I wanted. Every decision was made for me, about me, without me.
But these Alphas—these monsters who tormented me—are offering me an escape route.
Offering me control.
And maybe... maybe that's worth the risk of one date.
I pick up the velvet dress.
---
Blake
When Kara opens her bedroom door at 7 PM, I forget how to breathe.
The ice-blue velvet hugs every curve, the silver heels make her legs look impossibly long, and her golden curls are swept over one shoulder, exposing the pale column of her throat—unmarked, unclaimed, ours.
"Holy shit," I breathe.
She blushes, ducking her head. "Is it too much? I can change—"
"No." I cross the space between us in two strides, and before my brain can catch up, I'm lifting her into my arms—bridal style, because there's no way I'm letting her walk through the snow in those heels. "You're perfect. And I'm carrying you to the truck."
"Blake, I have legs—"
"I know you have legs, Baby," I murmur into her ear, feeling her shiver. "But tonight, I want you to know you'll never have to walk alone again."
Her breath hitches, and she buries her face in my chest, and I think maybe—maybe—we're going to be okay.
---
The restaurant is called Winter Aurora Bistro, and it's the most exclusive dining spot in Silver Frost Pack territory—a glass-domed building where you can watch the northern lights while you eat.
When we walk in, every head turns.
Every. Single. One.
Whispers erupt:
"Is that Connor's daughter?"
"The debt slave?"
"She's wearing designer clothes—did the Alphas actually—?"
Kara's hand tightens on my arm, her heartbeat spiking with anxiety.
That's when my Alpha voice—all three of our Alpha voices—explodes across the room:
"EYES. DOWN. NOW."
The entire restaurant goes silent, every wolf bowing their head in submission.
Asher steps forward, his black ebony scent a wall of authority. "Anyone who has a problem with our mate can take it up with us. Personally."
Cole's peppermint scent wraps around Kara like a blanket, and he whispers to her, "You're safe. We've got you."
The hostess—a woman named Iris who used to pursue Marcus before he mated Victoria—smirks as she approaches. "Three Alphas and their... guest. Right this way."
She deliberately looks past Kara, addressing only us.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
"Her name is Kara," I snarl, my gunpowder scent spiking. "And she's not our guest. She's our mate. Our future Luna. You'll address her first, or you'll find yourself unemployed. Understood?"
Iris goes pale. "Of course, Alpha. My apologies, Luna Kara."
The title hangs in the air, and I watch Kara's eyes widen in shock.
But she lifts her chin, meeting Iris's gaze with steel in her brown eyes.
"I'll have a cookies n' cream milkshake," she says clearly. "Not hot cocoa."
And I fall a little bit more in love with her for that.