Chapter 37 Steele
Hours pass.
The heavy, suffocating gravity of the heat finally begins to lift, leaving a quiet, bone-deep exhaustion in its wake.
I lie flat on my back on the edge of the nest, staring at the ceiling. The muscles in my arms and back still tremble with the physical aftermath of the last two days.
Beside me, Remi is sleeping. She's lying on her stomach, her face turned toward Knox's chest. Right above the line of her collarbone, nestled in the curve of her neck, is the dark, bruised ring of Knox's mark.
I stare at his bite mark. I should be jealous, but there is only a profound, settling peace.
My whole life, my family has been defined by what we lost.
But looking at the three of them together, Knox, Remi, and Crew, heavily asleep beside me, I finally feel settled.
This is my pack.
Forged with the blood of an omega, and sealed in scent.
Knox exhales a long, rough breath and opens his eyes. He looks at the ceiling for a moment, then turns his head toward me. His gray eyes are clearer than they have been in forty-eight hours. The feral edge of the rut is gone, replaced by the man who helped raise me.
"I'm running a bath," Knox whispers, his voice grating and thick.
He eases out of the bed, his muscles protesting the movement. I push myself upright as Knox enters the master bathroom.
I hear the rush of water into the large circular tub.
Crew stirs beside me, blinking until his eyes fully open. He looks ruined in the best way. He runs a hand through his messy hair and gives me a slow, exhausted nod.
When the tub is full, Knox walks back into the bedroom.
“She needs to soothe her muscles. Help me.”
I help to get Remi sitting up. She's limp, completely pliable, her eyes half-closed but clear.
The fever is gone.
"Come on, sweetheart," I murmur, as I pick her up and carry her carefully into the bathroom. I stand in the tub, lower and slip into the water with her. The tub is large enough for all four of us, though it's a tight fit.
I sit behind her, pulling her back against my chest, wrapping my arms around her waist. She sinks against me with a soft sigh. Crew sits by her legs, taking a warm cloth and gently washing the sweat and slick from her calves. Knox sits beside her, holding her hand, his thumb tracing the knuckles.
The warm water covers the fading heat of her body. A cramp rips through her abdomen and she winces.
"We've got you," Crew says softly, massaging the muscles of her thighs.
Knox presses a cool washcloth to her forehead, brushing the damp curls off her face. "How do you feel?"
Remi opens her eyes. She looks at Knox, then at Crew, then shifts her head to look up at me. Her hand reaches up, her fingers grazing the fresh marks on her neck. A small, exhausted smile touches her lips.
"I love my pack," she says, her voice barely more than a breath.
"We love you," Crew whispers, kissing her knee.
"I'm so happy," she says, her voice breaking slightly. "I thought you'd never accept me because of River, but now I'm yours."
"River knows," Crew says. "He's downstairs. He's not angry, Remi. He's an alpha too and he knew you'd need yours one day."
"Oh God." She pauses. "I hope he didn't hear anything."
Knox's gaze moves around the tub to Remi, to Crew, to me. The air in the bathroom shifts, thick with something heavier than steam. For the longest time, Knox operated alone. He protected Isabella and me by always carrying the weight himself while I ran wild on the ice. He never let us in.
The rut and heat broke all those walls.
"This is my pack," Knox says, his voice cutting through the tiled room with absolute, unyielding authority. He isn't just talking to Remi. He's looking directly at me, and then at Crew. "You are mine. All of you. No one walks alone anymore. No one hides. This is our family."
My throat tightens. The words sink into my chest, a heavy anchor in a storm I didn't realize I was still fighting. The fractured pieces of the Olivetti family finally lock together, fused with Crew's quiet loyalty and Remi's blinding fire.
We aren't hiding.
We are a pack.
"Take her to watch the game tomorrow," I say, my voice low, my chin resting on the top of Remi's wet hair.
"You're going to win it," she whispers against my arm.
"I'm fucked but I'm going to play my heart out," I say, my jaw setting. I look at Knox, a slow realization hardening into resolve. I don't need to protect my father anymore. My real family is sitting here in this water. "And tomorrow night, I'm playing as an Olivetti."
Knox goes completely still.
Crew pauses, the washcloth hovering over Remi's ankle.
"No more hiding," I say, the resentment I've carried for far too long finally gone. "I'm changing the jersey. If my father was too much of a coward for me to carry the name, that's his problem. But I have a pack now. I want the world to know who we are."
I look at Remi, brushing a wet curl from her cheek. "I'll have a jersey sent to the house for you. You're going to wear it while we play. My name. Your pack."
Her eyes shine, bright and fierce despite the exhaustion. "I'll wear it."
She looks between me and Crew. "Pack Banks-Olivetti. Both your names. I want them both on it."
Crew looks at her. Then at me. "Both names," he says quietly. "Yeah."
Before any of us can say another word, a harsh buzzing sound cuts through the quiet.
Crew's phone is vibrating on the bathroom counter. He reaches out a wet arm, grabbing the device and bringing it to his ear.
"Yeah," Crew says. He listens for ten seconds, his eyes slowly widening. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll be there."
He lowers the phone, splashing his arm back onto the rim of the tub. He runs a wet hand through his hair, looking at us as if he isn't sure he's awake.
"Who was it?" I ask, my heart rate ticking up.
"Coach Wallace," Crew says, staring blankly at the water gathering around his knees. "I'm off the bench. I've been picked for tomorrow's game. I'm playing."
"That's amazing," Remi says, turning to Knox. "We can watch them together."
"We can," Knox agrees, the familiar edge of his authority returning, softening only when he looks at her. "But I think we should let them out of this tub so they can get to practice."
Knox is right. We have a semi-final tomorrow. If Crew is playing, we have to be at the arena for afternoon practice in under an hour.
"I can't move," Crew whispers, staring at his own legs beneath the water. "My muscles have officially dissolved."
"Get up, Banks," I grin, splashing a handful of water at his chest as the reality of the game finally hits my bloodstream. "We need ice time."
He groans.
“Come on.”
The exhaustion of the past two days gives way to adrenaline and the impending rush of the rink.
The fire inside Remi is now a steady ember, safely held. But for Crew and me, heading out the door with our pack finally whole, a new fire is already burning.