Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Michelle
I woke up to the best morning of my life.
But because I woke up in a nest.
A real nest. The kind I'd been fighting my omega instincts about for years. The kind that said "pack" and "home" and "safe" in a way my carefully controlled bedroom never had.
We'd built it together last night after the celebration dinner wound down.
Lucas had gathered every soft blanket in the house.
Ro had arranged them with his artistic eye for composition.
Dex had reinforced the structural integrity because of course he had.
And I'd arranged and rearranged until the scents were perfectly mixed and my omega finally, finally settled.
Then we'd climbed in, all four of us, and slept tangled together in my childhood bedroom. With the door open, of course. None of us were ready to risk my mother’s wrath, even if I was old enough to have kids of my own.
I marveled at the fact that I was sleeping with my pack somewhere I'd spent eighteen years building walls and even more years maintaining them from a distance.
And now those walls were completely gone, replaced by something infinitely better.
Pack.
Lucas was still asleep, his face pressed into my shoulder, one arm thrown possessively across my waist. Ro was curled at my back, his breathing deep and even.
And Dex was awake, of course he was, sitting up against the headboard with his laptop, probably monitoring social media while the rest of us slept.
"Morning," I whispered, not wanting to wake the others.
"Morning. How'd you sleep?"
"Better than I have in years." I shifted carefully, trying not to disturb Lucas. "What's the damage?"
"Depends on your definition of damage." He showed me his screen.
"Social media is overwhelmingly positive.
The stream clip has 1.3 million views. #PackAndProfessional is trending.
You've been mentioned in three industry publications, all positive.
Callie's coalition of omega creators is growing.
Current count is forty-seven creators publicly supporting your decision. "
"Forty-seven?"
"And climbing. You started a movement, Michelle."
“Not just me. I’m just the latest.” I stared at the screen, not quite processing. A movement. I was part of a movement by refusing to hide. And not just a supporting role either, but one of the major players in it now.
"Any negative backlash?"
"Some. Mostly from the usual sources, anti-omega trolls, industry gatekeepers who don't like change, a few competitors trying to stir up controversy.
" He scrolled. "Matthew Malone's been quiet publicly, but I'm tracking his people.
Three accounts tried to seed negative narratives overnight.
All failed to gain traction. The positive momentum is too strong. "
Relief flooded through me. "The ethics committee?"
"Officially closed the inquiry. No further action needed. They sent a follow-up email this morning thanking you for setting a positive example." He smiled slightly. "You're officially a model of professional ethics, Michelle. How's that feel?"
"Surreal. Yesterday, I was convinced my career was over. Today, I'm a model of professional ethics?"
"Today you're exactly what you've always been, brilliant at your job. The industry just finally recognized it officially." He closed his laptop. "You have three clients requesting calls this morning. Two are congratulatory. One is Jensen Martinez wanting to discuss expanding his contract."
Jensen Martinez. My second-biggest client after Lucas. If he was talking about expansion instead of termination, that was a very good sign.
"What time?"
"He suggested ten AM. I already confirmed you'd call." Dex met my eyes. "Michelle, your clients aren't leaving. They're investing more. You proved that pack bonds make you better at your job, not worse. They see that now."
Through the bond, I felt his certainty. His pride. His absolute faith in me.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For believing in me when I didn't believe in myself."
"Always."
Lucas stirred against my shoulder, making a sleepy noise. "Are you working already?"
"Dex gave me the overnight update."
"And?"
"And apparently I’m part of a movement."
"Of course you are. You're Michelle Rodriguez. You don't do anything small." He burrowed closer, not quite ready to wake up. "What time is it?"
"Almost eight," Dex reported. "You have thirty minutes before Janet forces you all downstairs for breakfast."
"Thirty minutes of peace," Lucas mumbled. "Taking it."
I smiled, running my fingers through his hair. He purred softly, the sound still new enough to make my heart clench.
My alpha. My alphas. My pack.
This was real. This was mine. This was everything I'd been too scared to reach for.
"Michelle." Ro's voice, still rough with sleep. "Stop spiraling. I can feel your thoughts racing through the bond."
"I'm not spiraling. I'm processing."
"You're overthinking." He pulled me back against his chest. "We won, omega. The battle's over. You can rest now."
"There's too much to do. Clients to call, emails to answer, strategy to plan—"
"After breakfast," Dex interrupted firmly. "After coffee. After you've taken care of yourself. The work will wait thirty minutes."
"But—"
"Michelle." All three of them said it in unison, and I felt their unified determination through the bond.
I was outnumbered. And honestly? They were right.
"Okay," I conceded. "Thirty minutes of rest. Then I work."
"That's our girl," Lucas said, his purr rumbling through his chest.
So I lay there, wrapped in my pack's arms, feeling their scents surround me and their emotions settle warm through the bond.
For thirty minutes, I wasn't Michelle Rodriguez, manager and trailblazer and industry disruptor.
I was just Michelle. Pack omega. Loved and claimed and home.
It was perfect.
Breakfast was a celebration that masqueraded as a normal family meal.
My mom had made everything, pancakes, eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and somehow there were even pastries from the local bakery. The kitchen table groaned under the weight of food.
"This is excessive," I observed, eyeing the spread.
"This is celebration," Janet corrected. "My daughter changed the industry last night. We're celebrating properly."
"I didn't change the industry. I just announced my pack bond."
"You announced it with such professionalism and transparency that the ethics committee praised you publicly," Bill said, flipping pancakes. "You made it safer for every omega who comes after you. That's changing the industry, mija."
Maya appeared with her tablet. "The data supports that claim. #PackAndProfessional has 47,000 posts in twelve hours. Sentiment analysis shows 89% positive. You've been quoted in four major publications. Three universities are discussing adding your approach to their business ethics curriculum."
"Maya—"
"I'm just reporting facts. You're literally being studied as a case example of professional transparency. Own it."
Josh wandered in, still in pajamas. "Lucas gained 50,000 subscribers overnight. Ro's production company got seventeen client inquiries. Dex's security consulting business, which didn't exist yesterday, has twelve requests for information. The pack bond didn't hurt your careers. It launched them."
I stared at my teenage brother. "Dex doesn't have a security consulting business."
"He does now," Dex said mildly, appearing with coffee. "I registered the LLC this morning. Apparently there's demand for security consultants who understand both physical and digital threat assessment in the creator economy."
"You what?"
"You're not the only one who can capitalize on changing industry standards." He smiled slightly. "If we're going public with pack bonds affecting professional work, might as well acknowledge I have skills that translate to business."
"I don't—" I stopped, processing. "You started a business. Because of last night."
"I started a business because last night proved there's a market for it. Several creators reached out asking if I'd consult on their security protocols. Seemed foolish to ignore demand."
Through the bond, I felt his satisfaction. He'd found a way to protect people professionally, to turn his instincts into income.
"That's actually brilliant," I admitted.
"I learned from the best." He squeezed my shoulder as he passed, heading to get plates.
"This family," I muttered, but I was smiling.
We ate breakfast, all of us together, pack and family intermingled until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
Lucas and Josh discussed streaming strategy.
Ro and Maya debated camera angles. Dex and Bill compared recipes while Janet orchestrated everything with the efficiency of a general.
This was pack. Not just the four of us, but the family we were building around us.
"So," Janet said eventually, when the food was mostly gone and everyone was lingering over coffee. "What's next? For you four. For the pack."
I looked at my alphas. We hadn't actually discussed this, what came next, now that we'd survived the crisis.
"We should probably talk about logistics," I said. "Living arrangements. Professional boundaries. Long-term planning."
"There she goes," Lucas teased. "Straight back to logistics."
"Someone has to plan."
"Let's plan together," Ro suggested. "After breakfast. All of us. Figure out what pack life actually looks like going forward."
"I have a client call at ten—"
"Which gives us an hour," Dex said. "Plenty of time to discuss the basics."
Through the bond, I felt their determination. They wanted to plan our future. Together. Right now.
"Okay," I agreed. "After breakfast, we talk about next steps."
"Good girl," my mom said approvingly. "Now, who wants more pancakes?"
An hour later, we were back in my childhood bedroom, the nest still occupying most of the floor, having what might have been the most important conversation of my life.