Chapter 83 Willow #3
My dad’s eyes narrow, his voice sharp as a whip.
“An omega with a pack who would burn the world down for her?” He looks from Graham to Hunter to Carson.
If looks could kill, his would. “I paid you to protect her, not seduce her. And now you’re standing on my property, telling me she belongs to you? ”
Hunter stiffens but doesn’t back down. “We didn’t seduce her. We protect her because we want to, because she matters to us. Whether you approve or not doesn’t change that.”
My father’s laugh is harsh and cold, carrying across the cold fall air.
“Approve? You think I’m going to stand here and nod while five men stake their claim on my daughter?
While the one man I warned her about—” His gaze slices to Finn, full of venom.
“—stands there as if he belongs in this pack? And I’m supposed to forget why I had to hire you in the first place? ”
Finn doesn’t flinch. He tilts his head in that unbothered way that drives my father insane. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly, dangerous in his calm. “So you’re going to have to get used to me.”
My dad takes a step forward, and for a heartbeat, I think he might actually swing at him. Eric, his bodyguard, materializes at his side, tension coiled in his posture. “Get her inside,” my father snaps, his voice dropping to a low, lethal growl. “Before I drag her in myself.”
I instinctively step back toward Finn, my hand tightening in his. “If he touches me,” Finn murmurs, low enough for only me and the alphas to hear, “I won’t just stand here.”
The air crackles, thick with alpha musk and unspoken threats. My dad’s face is red now, his jaw rigid, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. He’s not softening—he’s ready to explode.
My dad’s face is angry, his jaw hard enough to crack. “Eric, get her inside. Now.”
Eric steps forward, cautious but ready. It’s the same look he wore when I was sixteen and refused to leave the rink during a snowstorm, like I’m a problem to be managed, a job to be done.
Something in me snaps.
“No.” The word rips out of me, cold and raw, vibrating through the air.
All the layers of good-girl daughter, spoiled heiress, playful omega—gone.
What’s left is just me, teeth bared. “You don’t get to order me around like I’m still living under your roof.
You don’t get to decide who touches me, who marks me, who I call my pack. I do.”
Dad freezes, his nostrils flaring, shock breaking through the anger for just a breath.
“You think you can scare them away? Or scare me?” My voice trembles, but not with fear.
My fingers curl in Finn’s hand, drawing him to my side, as my alphas step closer, their presence a steady heat at our backs.
“I chose them. I chose all of them. And if you can’t accept that, if you can’t even try, then…
” My chest heaves, the words clawing out of me.
“…then maybe you don’t get a say in my life at all. ”
“You don’t mean that.” His voice is lower now, dangerous, but there’s a waver in it I’ve never heard before.
“I do.” My scent spikes, the air practically crackling with omega defiance. “I love you, Dad. But I’m not leaving them. Not for you. Not for anyone. If keeping me in your life means backing off and letting me be happy, then that’s what you’ll do. Or you lose me.”
For the first time ever, he doesn’t have an answer. His mouth opens, then closes. Eric shifts behind him, uncomfortable, as though even he knows a line has been drawn.
Behind me, I feel Graham’s hand brush my back, steadying me, grounding me, while Finn’s grip tightens in silent approval.
My father’s eyes are flinty as they sweep over the five men, then back to me. And I can see it sink in—finally—that I’m not his little girl anymore.
The silence stretches, heavy and electric, broken only by the sound of my own pulse roaring in my ears. My chest rises and falls, and for the first time in my life, my father looks…uncertain.
His gaze flicks over my face—really sees me—and I watch something crack behind his eyes. His shoulders lower an inch, some of that rigid, furious posture bleeding away. He doesn’t look at Finn. Not at Graham or Hunter or Carson or Landon. His eyes stay locked on me.
“You look just like her when you’re angry,” he says finally. “Your mother…she used to stand like that. Chest high, ready to tear the world apart if someone tried to tell her no.”
The sharp edges in me falter for half a second, grief and love tangling in my throat.
“She loved you,” I whisper.
His mouth twists, and he nods once, slow. “She did. God help me, I loved her for it. And I…I see her in you right now. If I love you—if I want to keep my relationship with you—I can’t keep trying to cage that.”
I swallow hard, still trembling. “I need you to try, Dad. I need you to try to accept them…because they’re mine. They’re my family.”
He drags a hand over his face, looking older than I’ve ever seen him. When his gaze lifts to the four men behind me and the one beside me, there’s no approval, but there’s no fire left, either. Just a man who finally understands he’s standing on the edge of losing his daughter.
“I don’t know if I can ever like it,” he admits. “But…I’ll try. For you.”
Relief hits me, washing over me, stealing my breath, and Finn squeezes my hand just once before letting it fall.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The late morning sun is warm on my skin, the kind that should feel soft and comforting, but everything inside me is raw and humming. My pack lingers at my back, a wall of heat and muscle, their shadows stretching across the pale gravel drive of my father’s estate.
Dad doesn’t move at first. He just stands in front of us, the light catching in the strands of his silver-streaked hair, his mouth drawn in a tight line.
The manicured lawn, the long driveway, the quiet that comes from being so far from the road—it all makes the moment feel too big, too real. There’s nowhere to hide.
Finally, he drags a hand down his face, letting out a slow, unsteady breath. “Take care of her,” he says to the men behind me, his gaze landing on Finn momentarily. “I’m trusting you with the only thing that ever really mattered.”
Landon rubs my shoulder. Graham dips his head in a solemn nod. Hunter’s gaze doesn’t waver. Carson tilts his mouth into a half-smile, the tension bleeding out of his stance. “She’s safe,” he says simply, with a thread of playful defiance. “Even from herself.”
Dad exhales a sound that’s almost a laugh, but it’s heavy with memory instead of humor. “Just like her mother,” he murmurs.
I blink against the sunlight, my throat tight. “I’ll call,” I promise, because it feels like the only bridge I can build right now.
He nods once, retreating into the shadow of the doorway, his hand lingering on the frame as if letting go costs him something. When the door closes softly behind him, the weight in my chest eases just enough for me to breathe again.
The world outside his house is bright and open, the kind of day that promises change. I feel Finn shift at my side, his fingers squeezing mine in quiet solidarity, and Landon exhales beside me.
“Let’s go,” Graham says quietly, his voice a steady anchor.
I glance one last time at the house, at the life I’ve outgrown but will never stop loving, and then at the men who are my home now. My family. My choice. A soft smile pulls at my lips as I step forward with them, the gravel crunching under our feet.
The sun warms my face, and hope blooms easy and certain in my chest.