Epilogue #2
“I’ll catch up with you,” I tell Cash, making a detour to the refreshment table.
I collect a small plate of hors d’oeuvres—the crab puffs she kept raving about during the tasting, some of those little cucumber things she likes, and a few chocolate-dipped strawberries.
Trinity needs fuel. Whether or not she realizes it, her engine can’t run exclusively on determination and self-sacrifice.
I time my approach perfectly, reaching her just as she breaks away from a conversation with a potential client who looks ready to sign a contract on the spot.
“Here,” I say, offering the plate as she turns to me. “When’s the last time you actually ate something?”
Trinity’s face softens when she sees me, that special smile she reserves just for our pack. She immediately grabs a crab puff and pops it into her mouth, closing her eyes briefly in appreciation.
“I definitely ate today,” she says, chewing. “I had to taste-test all the canapés this morning. That counts.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Sampling bite-sized food at nine in the morning isn’t a meal.”
“It was very thorough sampling,” she protests, but takes another crab puff. “We’re supposed to go to dinner after this, anyway.”
I watch Trinity devour another crab puff, my eyes tracing the movement of her throat as she swallows. My mind wanders to all the ways I could ensure she takes proper care of herself. If sweet words won’t work, perhaps more... creative methods might be necessary.
“You know,” I say, lowering my voice to a growl only she can hear. “If you pass out from hunger, I’m going to tie you to our bed and force-feed you every meal for the next week.”
Trinity’s eyes widen, and through our bond, I feel a spike of arousal that makes my skin tingle. Her scent changes subtly—a hint of spice beneath her usual sweetness.
“You shouldn’t threaten me with something that sounds like the perfect way to spend my break,” she says, leaning closer. “I was planning to rest after all this work on the venue.”
I reach out, brushing my fingers against her wrist where her pulse jumps beneath my touch. “Anytime, anyplace, princess.”
Trinity glances around to ensure no one is watching before pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I’m going to hold you to that,” she whispers against my mouth before pulling away.
Her professional mask slides back into place as she spots the city councilman entering the venue. With one last meaningful look at me, she hurries toward him, shoulders back and confidence radiating from every step.
I watch her go, pride swelling in my chest. How much I love her is rivaled only by how much I’m going to love tying her down and eating her out until she begs me to stop. Maybe after that, she’ll finally understand that taking care of herself isn’t optional—it’s required.
Matheo
I slide up behind Trinity as the last guests make their way out of the venue, gently placing my hands on her waist and pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. She immediately leans into me, her body sagging with exhaustion as she finally lets her professional facade drop.
“You were incredible tonight,” I murmur against her skin, inhaling the scent that still drives me wild six months after our bonding.
“Thank you for being here.” Trinity turns in my arms, her smile tired but genuine. She gestures vaguely at the venue around us. “I know I’ve been a little crazy the last few weeks getting everything ready for the opening.”
“How are you holding up?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She laughs softly. “I haven’t been this exhausted since I spent an entire plane ride across both the Indian and Atlantic oceans letting you all screw me raw.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the memory. Those fifteen hours on my private jet had changed everything between us, cementing bonds that started as a business arrangement and transformed into something none of us had expected.
“Well,” I say, lowering my voice. “We could help you recover now in the same way we did back then.”
Hours-long bubble baths and full-body massages are the least of what she deserves.
Trinity’s eyes darken slightly as she sighs and leans further into me. “That sounds good.”
I take a moment to look around the now-quiet event space. The cleaning crew has started their work, but the venue still holds the golden glow of success.
My gaze lands on Kyren across the room, methodically breaking down sound equipment with practiced efficiency. There’s a focus and purpose to his movements I rarely saw before Trinity came into our lives.
He catches my eye and gives a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of our shared bond.
On the empty dance floor, Cash and Lucas sway together despite the absence of music. Lucas has his head tucked against Cash’s shoulder, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Cash whispers something that makes Lucas laugh.
Something warm unfurls in my chest as I watch them all.
I made billions founding OurLog, built an empire that revolutionized digital communication, but nothing compares to this feeling.
Creating this pack, finding Trinity, bringing these souls together—it gives me a sense of accomplishment that earning all the money in the world never could.
Trinity follows my gaze, a soft smile touching her lips. “They look happy.”
“We all are,” I reply simply.
She straightens suddenly, remembering something. “We should probably get going for that last errand. I know it’s late, but?—”
“It can probably wait,” I suggest, rubbing small circles on her lower back. “You’re dead on your feet.”
Trinity gives a heavy sigh. “We need to get it over with because once I crawl into that oversized bed at home, I’m not leaving it for a week.”
I can’t argue with that logic. Our custom-made bed—large enough to comfortably fit all five of us—has become Trinity’s favorite place to recover after her marathon work sessions.
And I have plans for her in that bed that definitely don’t involve leaving it for anything more than necessary hydration.
And I don’t miss that she called it home .
“All right,” I concede, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “One last errand, then home.”
I signal to the others that we’re ready to leave. Kyren gives instructions to a crew member before joining us, while Cash and Lucas reluctantly separate from their impromptu dance .
As we gather at the exit, I take one last look at the venue—Trinity’s dream made real.
Despite all the twists our journey took to get here, I wouldn’t change a single moment.
From that storage closet door hitting me in the face to a volcanic eruption on Heat Island, every chaotic step led us exactly where we were meant to be.
Together.
Trinity
I stand in the middle of my empty apartment, turning slowly to take in the space that has been mine alone for the past five years.
The sleek countertops gleam under the recessed lighting.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the Manhattan skyline I once thought justified the exorbitant rent.
Everything is pristine, minimalist, perfect—and utterly devoid of life.
The lease isn’t up for another few weeks, but there’s almost nothing left to move, and I scheduled the move-out cleaners early so I wouldn’t be tempted to procrastinate.
Over the past months, Matheo, Kyren, Lucas, and Cash have been helping me transport my belongings to Matheo’s sprawling house in the suburbs, which has basically become all of our de facto home over the past few months.
A tear slides down my cheek, then another, until I’m standing in the middle of my former sanctuary crying silently.
As soon as they feel my sadness through the bond, all of my men immediately react.
“Trinity?” Matheo’s voice is immediately concerned as he steps in from the hallway where he’s been loading the last box into the elevator. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s going on?” Cash asks, his analytical gaze scanning my face.
Lucas’s open expression crumples in sympathy. “Oh, Trinity...”
“What can we do?” Kyren demands, eyes narrowing with protective intensity. “Is it too soon?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, wiping at my face. “Really, I’m not sad about leaving.”
“You’re crying,” Lucas points out gently, moving toward me.
I shake my head, struggling to articulate the realization clanging through my head like a church bell. “I just...I spent so many years convinced that this was what I wanted. This pristine space that was just mine. No compromises, no mess, no...”
“No pack,” Kyren finishes softly.
“No life,” I correct him, looking around at the sterile environment I’ve called home. “I was so proud of this place. The view, the address, how it impressed clients. But standing here now, I see how empty it was. How empty I was.”
Cash approaches, his steady beta presence calming. “You weren’t empty, Trinity. You were building something important.”
“I know. But I was also lying to myself about what I was missing.” I gesture around the apartment. “This wasn’t freedom. It was isolation. And I convinced myself it was what I wanted because I was afraid of being rejected again.”
Matheo wraps his arms around me from behind, his scent enveloping me in security. “You don’t have to choose anymore. Your career and your pack—you can have both. ”
“That’s just it,” I say, leaning back against him. “None of you has ever once asked me to choose. You’ve supported my business, helped at events, celebrated my successes. But Egret and the others—they wanted me to be something I’m not.”
Lucas kneels in front of me, taking my hands. “We love you exactly as you are, Trinity. Workaholic tendencies and all.”
“And if you want to get married someday, we’re game,” Kyren adds with his characteristic directness. “If you want kids, great. If not, also great.”
“Though Lucas might liberate a few shelter dogs if we don’t get him something to take care of eventually,” Cash says dryly, making everyone laugh. “He’ll be the one on potty-training duty no matter what, though.”
Lucas shrugs. “I’m doing pretty good with the daycare. I get my kid fix every day.”
“You’re our omega,” Matheo murmurs against my hair. “However you want that to look.”
Fresh tears spill over, but they’re different now—full of gratitude and wonder rather than revelation. “I love you. All of you.”
They surround me in a group embrace that feels like coming home, even in this place that never truly was one.
When we separate, all four immediately reach for the few remaining items—a plant, a framed photo, my laptop bag—refusing to let me carry anything.
“We’ve got this,” Cash says firmly. “You’ve been on your feet all day at the venue launch.”
I start to protest but catch myself, realizing that accepting help doesn’t diminish me. This is what packs do—they support each other.
I take one last look around the empty apartment, no longer feeling any attachment to its cold perfection. My future lies elsewhere, with these four remarkable men who want me exactly as I am.
“Let’s go home,” I say, the words feeling right in a way they never have before.
And as we leave, the future almost as beautiful and impossible to predict as each of my mates, I don’t bother looking back.