Chapter 26 #2
It’s open. A deep V that shows off the elegant line of her spine, the delicate wings of her shoulder blades, stopping just above the curve of her lower back. The skin there is bare and perfect and begging to be touched.
“There’s a zipper,” she says, clutching the silk to her chest as she glances over her shoulder. “I couldn’t quite reach—”
I’m moving before she finishes the sentence. My fingers find the small tab of the zipper where it rests at the small of her back. Her skin is warm under my knuckles as I slowly draw it upward. The rasp of metal on metal is loud in the quiet room. Each tooth catching, releasing, catching again.
I let my knuckles graze the length of her spine as the zipper climbs. She shivers, and I feel the tremor run through her entire body.
“Fits like it was made for my hands,” I murmur, low enough that only she can hear.
Rhys moves in next, a delicate silver necklace dangling from his fingers. The contrast is striking. I’ve watched those hands work with code; now they’re holding something so fragile.
“May I?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
Mia nods, lifting her hair out of the way.
He fastens it around her throat, the gems settling on her skin. When he’s done, his fingers linger at her nape, thumb brushing over the delicate skin there, finding her pulse.
“Perfect,” he rumbles.
Then Knox drops to one knee in front of her.
The visual of it hits me square in the chest.
He takes her ankle in his hand, steadying her as he adjusts the strap of her heel, buckling on. Then he does the other one, his movements slow like he’s savoring every second. When he looks up at her, his slate-gray eyes are molten. “You’re going to destroy every alpha in that place.”
“That’s the plan,” Eli says from behind us, his voice dry but warm. Mia lets out a shaky breath, looking between them. “I’m just going to dinner, not war.”
“In that dress?” I offer my arm, grinning. “It’s definitely war. Shall we?”
Le Roux Craft House is exclusive, expensive, and very deliberately designed for packs who have money and power and want to be around others who understand both.
The car drops us at the entrance where a doorman in an immaculate suit takes one look at Eli and steps aside.
“Mr. Traynor,” he says with a respectful nod. “Your table is ready.”
The interior is all dark wood and leather, dim amber lighting casting everything in warm shadow.
The music is low and jazzy, just loud enough to provide ambiance without drowning out conversation.
The scent of expensive wine and aged whiskey hangs in the air, mixing with the thin layers of faint scents.
We move as a unit through the space.
I take the rear, watching the room.
Watching them watch her.
Heads turn. Eyes track. I see the exact moment they register her. The red dress, the way she moves, the confidence in her spine. A few alphas start to move, their interest piqued, bodies already angling toward her.
Then they see us.
The wall of pack behind her. Four alphas moving in perfect synchronization, our body language screaming ours louder than words ever could.
They stop. Eyes drop. Bodies turn away.
Good instincts.
We’re almost to the VIP section when someone doesn’t have good instincts.
A tall alpha steps directly into Mia’s path, blocking her. He’s well-dressed, good-looking in a generic, catalogue kind of way. But he’s completely oblivious to the danger he’s just put himself in.
“Excuse me,” he says, his voice smooth and practiced. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before—”
Knox is there in a heartbeat. He slides an arm around Mia’s waist, pulling her back against his chest.
“Sorry, man,” Knox says, his grin sharp and entirely unapologetic. “This table is fully booked.”
The random alpha blinks, clocks the four of us standing like a wall behind her, and realizes he’s outmatched. He mutters an apology and retreats.
But what hits me hardest is Mia’s reaction. She leans back. Right into Knox’s hold, relaxing against him like he’s a favorite chair.
Mine. Ours. Keep.
We claim a private booth in the back. A curved leather seat that wraps around a low table.
Mia slides in first, and we arrange ourselves around her. Eli on one side, me on the other, Knox and Rhys bookending us. The waitress appears, a beta with sharp eyes who takes our order without a word and disappears.
The wine arrives moments later. Le Roux vintage, deep red and aged to perfection. Mia takes a sip and makes a small, appreciative sound that goes straight to my gut.
“This is amazing,” she says, looking at the glass and lifting it to the light.
“Only the best,” Knox says, but he’s not looking at the wine.
For a while, we just sit. Drinking, talking about nothing. Mia relaxes by degrees, her shoulders dropping, her smile coming easier. By the time the food comes, we’re laughing as she tells us stories about her and her best friend Sierra’s escapades back in high school.
I lean back, swirling my whiskey, watching Mia laugh at something Rhys said. Then I catch her eye and grin. I like her like this.
“So,” I say, “be honest. What was the plan? You moved to the suburbs alone. Were you running from the law?”
She laughs, nearly choking on her wine. “What? No!”
“Witness protection?” Knox suggests.
“Secret identity?”
“Hiding from an ex?”
“No!” She’s laughing harder now, setting her glass down before she spills it. “None of that. I just—”
She stops. The laughter fades, replaced by something softer.
“I thought I’d find it there,” she says quietly. “The dream.”
The table goes still. We’re all listening now, really listening.
“I wanted the white picket fence,” she continues, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “The quiet life. Sunday mornings and…babies. I thought if I set the stage, the right cast would show up. I thought I wanted boring.”
The word hangs in the air.
Babies.
The tension ramps up so fast it’s almost physical. I feel it in the way Rhys goes utterly still beside me. In the way Eli’s hand tightens on his glass. In the way Knox’s eyes go dark and hungry.
White picket fence. Babies. Forever.
She just handed us a map to exactly what we want.
Mia must feel the intensity because she breaks it with a laugh that sounds almost nervous.
“And instead,” she says, “I got the noisy tech empire next door who broke the HOA laws on day one. Speaking of…” She looks around at us, an eyebrow raised. “Why did you guys move to a quiet family neighborhood to run a global startup?”
The question shifts the energy. But I’m still caught on that word.
Babies.
I exchange glances with the others. Eli nods slightly. Rhys gestures for me to take it.
I lean forward, grinning. “Because we were looking for the same thing.”
Mia blinks. “What?”
“We didn’t want the city anymore. We built the business. We made the money. Proved whatever we needed to prove. But the penthouse? The club nights? That got old fast. We wanted…roots.”
“We wanted the fence,” Rhys adds, his voice low. “We just didn’t know we needed the neighbor to make it work.”
“We moved there for the quiet,” Eli says, his mouth quirking. “We stayed for the friction.”
Understanding dawns on Mia’s face. “You…were looking for boring too?”
“We were looking for the same boring,” Knox corrects. “Just…coming from different directions.”
“You…want the white picket fence,” Mia says slowly, like she’s testing the words.
“Yes,” I tell her. “And everything that comes with it.”
Silence falls over the booth.
Eli raises his glass. “To Carol.”
We all stare at him.
“To Carol?” Knox repeats, incredulous.
“If she hadn’t been such a nightmare,” Eli says, his eyes warm, “we might not be sitting here right now.”
Understanding ripples around the table. We raise our glasses in unison.
“To Carol,” we chorus.
Mia laughs, the sound bright like sunshine, and drinks.
I watch her across the table.
White picket fence. Babies. Done.
We’re keeping her.
Even if I have to buy the whole damn neighborhood to do it.