Chapter 28
Hastings
I didn't fly the helicopter to Wales so much as I hurled myself across the sky in it.
The machine vibrated under my hands, the controls slick with sweat despite the cold. Every second she was away from me was a second spent drowning.
The bond in my chest pulled taut, stretched thin across the distance between London and Wales, threatening to snap.
I'd spent thirty-five years being the architect of my own life, building empires with careful, calculated risks. But in three hours, Presley had burned the blueprints and walked out the door.
When I'd found her empty room, I knew then I failed at being an alpha.
Her absence made me feel like I was a shell of myself.
Fritz had found me in the study with my tie shredded on the floor, my bespoke shirt ripped at the collar because my hands had needed something to destroy and my throat had felt too tight to breathe.
I must have looked like a caveman staring at a fire I didn't know how to put out.
Now, as the rotors slowed to a stop on the Welsh ridge, the silence was worse than the noise.
Rain misted across the windscreen. The hills rolled away in every direction, gray-green and endless. Sheep scattered as I climbed out, my shoes sinking into mud that would ruin the Italian leather.
I didn't care.
Fritz appeared beside me, his hand landing on my shoulder. "Henry—"
"Stay back," I muttered, already moving toward the cottage. "I need to do this alone."
"But you're not alone. That's the whole point of a pack."
I stopped, turning to look at him. Fritz's eyes were steady, calm in a way mine hadn't been since the day I claimed her. He'd changed into jeans and a jumper, trading his usual polish for something that fit this wild, windswept place.
"I know," I said, my voice rough. "But I need to apologize to her first. And to Etienne. I owe you both—"
"We'll talk later." Fritz squeezed my shoulder. "Go get our omega."
I reached the cottage door in seconds. My hand shook as I knocked.
The door swung open, and Etienne stood there, staring at me, the helicopter and then Fritz.
He was naked, his muscular body looked as solid and immovable as the hills around us. He didn't move to let me in. He just stared at my ruined clothes, my bloodshot eyes, the primal mess I'd become.
"She's inside," Etienne said, his voice a low warning. "And if you use one word of business-jargon Henry, I will throw you off this ridge myself."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He stepped aside, and I pushed past him into the warmth of the cottage.
The smell hit me first. Vanilla and rain, so thick it made my chest ache.
Presley sat on the sofa, wrapped in a thick dressing gown of Etienne’s that swallowed her whole. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot, her face free of makeup, her feet tucked under her.
She looked tiny. She looked like she belonged here in the damp and the quiet. She looked like she belonged far away from my security teams and careful plans.
She looked at me, and her eyes weren't full of fear or submission.
"Oh, look," she said, her voice dry as bone. "The CEO of My Life has arrived. Did you fly all this way to give me a performance review, or am I just late for the weekly 'Womb-Status' update?"
I stopped dead.
Fritz had followed me in, closing the door behind us. He leaned against it, arms crossed, watching.
"Presley," I breathed. My voice was a wreck, barely holding together.
"Honestly, Hastings," she continued, gesturing to her stomach.
"You could have saved yourself the anguish by using the turkey baster as I suggested.
It would have made the bank transfers significantly less emotional for everyone involved.
At least then I wouldn't have had to wonder if the celebratory kiss this morning was included in my hourly rate. "
The words cut deeper than any stab at the heart.
I sank into the wooden chair opposite her, my legs finally giving out. I didn't look like the man who ran a global empire. I looked like a man who had lost his soul and found it again in a pair of cynical blue eyes. I knew because I saw the state of myself when I found out where she was.
"I didn't continue to pay you because you were a service," I said, my voice cracking. "I paid you because I was terrified."
Presley's expression shifted, the sarcasm faltering. "Terrified of what?"
"That you'd realize you didn't need me." I looked at my hands.
"I thought if I gave you everything, if I built a gold-plated floor under your feet, you wouldn't have to stay because you were desperate, you’d stay because you chose to.
I wanted you to choose to stay. I just didn't know how to ask you to choose me for no reason at all. "
"Henry—"
"I've never been good at this," I continued, the words pouring out now, unstoppable.
"At feelings. At vulnerability. I can calculate risk.
I can predict market trends. I can build buildings and companies from nothing.
But I can't—" My voice broke. "I can't make someone love me.
I can't logic my way into your heart. So I gave you money. Because that's what I know how to do."
Presley’s hands twisted the cord of the dressing gown in her lap.
"But it was wrong," I said. "It made you feel like a transaction when you're—you're everything."
I stood, crossing to where she sat. I dropped to my knees in front of her, my hands finding hers.
"I'm sorry, Presley. I'm sorry I kept paying you. I'm sorry I made you doubt us. I'm sorry I—"
"Claimed her alone," Etienne finished, his voice hard.
I turned to look at him. He stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Yes." I swallowed. "Etienne, I'm sorry. I should have waited. I should have discussed it with you and Fritz. The pack was supposed to claim her together, and I—"
"You took what you wanted without asking," Etienne said.
"I did."
"You betrayed the pack."
"I did."
Etienne's jaw worked. Then he moved, crossing the room to stand beside me. "You're a selfish bastard, Henry."
"I know."
"You owe me. And Fritz."
"I know."
"Good." Etienne's hand landed on my shoulder, heavy and grounding. "Because we're not letting you forget it. Ever."
Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. "Understood."
I turned back to Presley, cupping her face in my hands. "I'm sorry I claimed you without them. It wasn't just my decision to make. It was the pack's."
"It was my fault," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I wanted you to. I tilted my head back and I—"
"I know." I brushed my thumb across her cheek, catching a tear before it could fall.
"And I wanted it too. God, Presley, I wanted it so badly I couldn't think straight.
But we're a pack, Presley. Including you.
We should have all discussed it together.
I shouldn't have taken you as mine without their permission, or yours.
I should never have claimed you without them taking you too. "
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"Don't." Fritz moved from the door, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her. "Don't apologize for wanting to be claimed, Liebling."
"But I hurt you both. I hurt Etienne—"
"You didn't hurt me," Fritz said gently. "You know what I felt when I realized Hastings had claimed you?"
She shook her head.
"Relief." Fritz smiled. "Because I saw our claiming of you differently than Hastings and Etienne did. I saw that you were our pack's scent match. That you're biologically compatible in a way that's rarer than diamonds. Do you remember when you walked into Hastings' office that first day?"
Presley nodded.
"My nose crinkled," Fritz said. "Do you remember that?"
"I did have a shower," she protested, a hint of her usual fire returning.
Fritz laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "I could smell my mate, Presley. I could smell the scent of the woman who would be ours. But Hastings couldn't. Not until your heat. Not until the biology aligned and his body finally recognized what mine already knew."
"Fritz—"
"He needed that claim," Fritz continued. "He needed to know you were real. That this wasn't some cruel joke the universe was playing on him. A four-scent alpha finding a four-scent omega? That's not just rare. That's impossible. And yet here you are."
Presley looked at me, her eyes searching. "Is that true?"
"Yes," I said simply. "I spent my entire life believing I was broken. That I'd never find a match. And then you showed up and were nothing like I expected. You lived in a falling-apart caravan, talking to dead flowers, but I—" I stopped, my throat tight. "I had a feeling."
"Then stop paying me." Her voice was quiet but firm. "Stop treating this like a business arrangement. I don't want your money, Henry. I want you."
She called me Henry.
I didn’t correct her.
"Cancel the deposits," she continued. "Tear up whatever contract you think we have. Because I'm not staying for the money. I'm staying for you. All of you."
Etienne cleared his throat. "Speaking of all of us..."
I looked at him, then at Fritz, then back at Presley.
"She wants us to claim her too," Etienne said, his voice careful. "Fritz and me. Together."
Presley's nervous anticipation pulsed through our bond. Also there was hope. Also fear that I'd refuse this.
I raised my eyebrows. "And?"
"And we're asking your permission," Fritz said. "Because you're the prime alpha. And because we're a pack. We do this together or not at all."
I stood, pulling Presley to her feet with me. I looked at the woman who'd turned my carefully ordered life into chaos. The woman who made me laugh. The woman who carried my child and my claim and somehow still wanted more.
"I want to watch," I said.
Presley's eyes went wide. "What?"
"I want to see my pack mates fuck you together while I watch and feel everything through the bond.
" I let my voice drop, going dark and possessive.
"I want to know exactly how they make you feel.
I want to experience every moment of them claiming you.
And then, when you're thoroughly marked and bonded and ours, I want to take you myself and remind you who claimed you first."
Presley squeaked. "Okay."
Fritz grinned. "That's our girl."
Etienne moved closer, his hand settling on her hip. "Are you sure, Princesse? Because once we do this, there's no going back."
"I don't want to go back," she whispered. "I want to go forward. With all of you."
I pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathing in her scent. "Then let's go home."