Chapter 72
Kara
We reach Anchorage International Airport at seven a.m., just as the first gray light begins to stain the eastern horizon.
The terminal is nearly empty. Asher parks in the drop-off zone while Blake grabs my suitcase. Cole helps me out of the Yukon, steadying me when my boots slip on the ice.
"Careful," he murmurs, arm around my waist. "Last thing we need is you breaking something before we even get on the plane."
"I'm fine," I protest, but I don't pull away.
Inside, the airport is warm and bright and overwhelming. People rush past with rolling luggage. Departure boards flash information in rapid succession. The PA system crackles with announcements.
I've never been in an airport before.
"This way," Asher says, guiding me toward a set of frosted glass doors marked "VIP Lounge—Authorized Access Only."
We step inside and the chaos vanishes. Soft lighting, leather seating, the quiet murmur of a few early-morning travelers.
A drowsy attendant looks up from her desk, starts to smile professionally—then freezes when she sees us.
Three Alphas moving in perfect synchronization, their combined scent a wall of dominance.
And me, wearing their kiss marks and a Luna collar, caught in the middle.
"G-good morning," she stammers. "How can I—"
"Four blueberry whole-wheat pancakes," Asher says smoothly. "And one strawberry-cream special."
She nods rapidly and flees.
Blake grins. "Scared the shit out of her."
"Blake," I chide.
"What? It's true."
---
We claim a corner booth with high-backed leather seats. Cole slides in beside me, Blake across from us, Asher at the end where he can watch the room.
My stomach growls audibly.
Blake's grin widens. "Hungry, Princess?"
"Shut up."
"Make me."
I'm saved from responding when the food arrives—steaming plates of fluffy pancakes, the strawberry-cream one placed directly in front of me.
It's beautiful. Golden, perfectly cooked, topped with fresh strawberries and whipped cream that's already starting to melt.
"Eat," Asher says gently. "Six-hour flight ahead. You'll need your strength."
I pick up my fork, cut a small piece, and bring it to my mouth.
The moment the flavors hit my tongue—sweet cream, tart berries, fluffy pancake—my eyes flutter closed. A soft, unconscious hum escapes my throat.
So good.
Blake's fork clatters against his plate.
My eyes snap open. All three of them are staring at me with expressions that make my skin flush hot.
"What?"
"Nothing," Cole says quickly. "Just—maybe don't make those sounds in public unless you want Blake to have a heart attack."
Blake's eyes are flashing gold, pupils blown wide. His gunpowder scent is thick and hot in the air. "You have no idea what you do to me," he says, voice rough. "None."
I look down at my plate, face burning. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Asher says. "Just be aware that watching you experience pleasure—any kind of pleasure—affects us. Strongly."
Oh.
Oh.
I take another bite of pancake, slower this time, hyperaware of their gazes tracking every movement of my mouth.
This is going to be a long week.
---
Blake
The moment Kara excuses herself to the restroom, I turn to my brothers and drop the act.
"We need to talk," I say quietly. "Now."
Asher's jaw tightens. Cole's mint scent sharpens with anxiety.
We huddle together, speaking in low voices through the mind link so no one overhears.
"Her scent has been fluctuating all morning," Cole says via the private channel we share. "Nervous, hopeful, terrified—it's like a pendulum swinging back and forth. If we can't stabilize her emotionally on this trip, the marking ceremony could fail. Or worse—she could panic and reject the bond entirely."
"I know," I snap, frustration bleeding into my mental voice. "But what the fuck are we supposed to do? Yesterday when she put on that bikini, I nearly lost control right there in the boutique. The white fabric against her skin, the way her curves—" I stop, dragging a hand down my face. "If any male on that island looks at her the wrong way, I'm going to rip his throat out."
Asher's ice-cold ebony scent sharpens with command. "Which is exactly why I booked a private beach villa. No one within a kilometer radius except staff we've vetted. But Blake, you need to face something: she's still terrified of you. Of all of us, but especially you."
The words hit like a physical blow. My wolf snarls, wounded.
"I know that," I say through gritted teeth. "I fucking know. Every time she flinches when I move too fast, every time she looks at me like I'm about to hurt her—" My voice breaks. "The shit I said to her. 'Bloated.' 'Debt tool.' 'Carrot.' How the fuck is she supposed to trust me when I spent years making her feel worthless?"
"Because you're changing," Cole says softly. "She sees that. But Blake, you need to understand something. My Rut is already starting to surface. The mint scent is getting harder to control. And you—your gunpowder is so volatile right now that you're on the edge every second."
Asher leans forward. "We need a strategy. I've planned a three-day adaptation period. Days one and two—kissing and embracing only, no genital contact. Day three—touching, but maintaining boundaries. Day four, if she signals she's ready, we reconvene and discuss marking logistics."
"What if she goes into Heat?" I ask, the question I've been dreading. "On the island. Away from the pack. What if her body decides that's the time?"
Cole's expression goes grim. "If she enters Heat before the marking, our Ruts will trigger simultaneously. All three of us. And she'll be hit with triple the intensity of a normal mating. The statistics Victoria mentioned—seventy percent fatality rate—that's not an exaggeration."
Silence in the mind link. Heavy. Suffocating.
"Then we don't let it get that far," Asher says firmly. "If we sense her Heat approaching, one of us stays with her while the other two isolate. We take turns. We never, ever leave her alone with all three of us in full Rut."
"But—" I start.
"No." Asher's Alpha voice cracks through the link like a whip. "I don't care how much it hurts. I don't care if our wolves are screaming. Her safety comes first. Always."
I nod slowly, even though everything in me rebels against the thought of being separated from her when she needs us most.
Then another thought hits me. One I've been avoiding.
"What if..." I force the words out. "What if in the end, she only wants you two? What if I've fucked up so badly that she can't accept me as part of the bond?"
Cole and Asher both freeze.
"Blake," Cole starts.
"No, listen." I look between them, my throat tight. "If it comes down to it—if choosing me means she gets hurt or dies—then I'll step back. I'll release my claim. I'll—" My voice breaks. "I'll let you two have her. As long as she survives. As long as she's happy. That's all that matters."
The silence that follows is absolute.
Then Cole and Asher both reach across the table and grip my fists.
No words. Just the weight of their hands. The unspoken promise:
It won't come to that. We won't let it.
But we all know it might.