Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
MATHEO
I watch the coordinated chaos unfold with a mixture of amusement and admiration as we prepare for our unconventional departure from Heat Island.
The moment Trinity agreed to our insane proposal—breaking her heat on a private jet thirty thousand feet in the air—Cash transformed into a logistics general, barking orders at the flight crew with military precision.
“I need the cabin temperature set to exactly seventy-two degrees,” he instructs the pilot, his fingers flying across the screen of his phone. “And ensure we have complete privacy protocols in place. No interruptions unless it’s a genuine emergency.”
Meanwhile, Lucas bounces around our villa like an overeager golden retriever, somehow managing to pack all our belongings in record time while maintaining his characteristic enthusiasm.
He emerges from the bedroom with an armload of Trinity’s clothes, folding everything into neat squares like he’s setting up a clothing store display before packing it.
Kyren, surprisingly, has taken on the role of Trinity’s personal comfort coordinator.
He has been following at her heels, asking how she feels and offering cold beverages like she might collapse at any moment.
Focused determination has replaced his usual sarcastic demeanor, and I realize he’s channeling his nervous energy into ensuring Trinity’s okay.
As for me, I find myself standing back and observing it all with the growing realization that if we’re truly becoming a pack—a real pack, not the elaborate fiction we started with—then I’m the natural choice for pack alpha.
The thought doesn’t intimidate me the way it might have a week ago.
Lucas defers to authority naturally, Cash thrives when he has clear direction, and Kyren needs someone steady to anchor his chaotic energy.
Trinity, despite her fierce independence, has shown she can surrender control when she trusts the person asking.
The responsibility feels right settling across my shoulders like a familiar weight.
And there is one thing I remember that I’m nearly certain the other men won’t think of.
I watch Trinity emerge from the resort’s main building, having just said goodbye to her family.
Even from a distance, I see the subtle changes in her posture, the way she moves with slightly less precision than usual.
Her heat is beginning, and every alpha instinct I possess responds to that knowledge with protective possessiveness.
She approaches our group with characteristic poise, but I don’t miss how her gaze keeps drifting between the four of us, as if she still doesn’t quite believe this is real.
“Any second thoughts?” I ask quietly as she reaches me.
Trinity shakes her head, though I catch the slight tremor in her hands as she adjusts her purse strap. “No second thoughts. Just trying to process that I’m about to spend my heat on an airplane with a pack that was supposed to be fake.”
“We were never temporary,” I tell her, meaning it more than she probably realizes. “We just didn’t know it yet.”
The pilot appears at my elbow, clipboard in hand. “Mr. Gamba? We’re ready for departure whenever you are. Flight time is approximately fourteen and a half hours, accounting for headwinds.”
More than enough time for Trinity’s heat to fully manifest and for us to prove to her—and to ourselves—that what we have transcends any contract or arrangement.
I turn to Trinity, offering her my arm. “Ready to join the mile-high club in the most spectacular fashion possible?”
Her laugh is slightly breathless, cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkle with the same adventurous spirit that made her agree to this madness in the first place. “Let’s do this before I remember how insane this plan actually is.”
I pause at the top of the jet’s stairs, one hand gripping the railing as her words sink in.
The warm tropical air carries the faint scent of volcanic ash, a reminder of how close we came to losing everything today.
But it’s not the near-disaster that has my heart racing—it’s the implications of what we’re about to do.
“Trinity.” I keep my voice even, despite the sudden tension I try to hide. “I need to ask you something before we take off.”
Concern etches across her features, even as her eyes go momentarily out of focus before re-centering on my face. “What is it?”
“Are you absolutely certain you’re okay with this? Because once your heat fully hits—” I run a hand through my hair, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist the urge to bond you if you beg me. Maybe we should grab some mouthguards before takeoff, just in case.”
“Matheo.” She reaches out to touch my arm, and I feel that familiar electric connection along with the blazing heat of her skin. “Whatever happens is going to happen. Every other crazy decision I’ve made recently has worked out, so I’m going with it.”
I search her steady gaze. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Good, I’ve also got this if you want it.”
I hold up a foil packet with a distinctive logo that I found in our villa’s bathroom with the other supplies typically included in a heat kit. Her eyes widen as she recognizes it.
“Emergency birth control,” she says, voice wavering.
“Using it is up to you,” I reply with a shrug. “I know we’re moving fast, but nobody expects you to move that fast.”
She gives me a smile of relief before tearing open the packet and swallowing the small pill inside. “Thank you.”
“Don’t ever thank me for giving you what you need.”
As we board the jet, I make a silent promise to myself and to her.
Trinity’s first heat with us will be everything she deserves to feel—safe, cherished, and completely overwhelming in the best possible way.
Whatever happens at thirty thousand feet will set the foundation for everything that comes after.
The engines begin to spin up as we settle into our seats for takeoff, and I catch Trinity’s scent shifting, becoming richer and more complex by the minute. Soon, there will be no hiding, no pretending, no careful boundaries.
Just Trinity, her heat, and a pack that is completely, irrevocably hers.