Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
AVA
Spring had come quickly. Eight months since I first arrived at the cabin. Eight months since everything changed.
Now here we were. I stood on the wraparound porch of our new home, watching the morning sun filter through the massive oak trees that lined the property.
The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and possibility, warm enough that I'd abandoned my jacket hours ago, leaving me in just a soft cotton dress that swayed around my knees in the gentle breeze.
Our home. The words still felt surreal, even after signing the papers, even after walking through every room together, even after Mason had lifted me over the threshold yesterday while the others laughed.
"That's the last of the library boxes," Leo announced, emerging from the massive moving truck parked in the circular driveway.
He carried a wooden crate marked POETRY - FRAGILE in his elegant cursive script, the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath his rolled-up sleeves.
His blonde hair was pushed back from his forehead, slightly damp from exertion, and there was a smudge of dust across his sharp cheekbone that made him look almost boyish.
"I counted three times. All four hundred and seventy-two volumes accounted for. "
I couldn't help but smile at the relief in his voice. "Were you actually worried the movers would lose your poetry collection?"
Leo's amber eyes found mine, one elegant brow arching in that way that always made my stomach flutter.
"Some of those first editions are irreplaceable, Red.
I've been collecting them since I was just a kid.
" He paused at the bottom of the porch steps, crate balanced easily against his hip, and his expression softened into something warmer.
Leo held my gaze for a moment longer, something passing between us that didn't need words, before he continued up the steps and into the house. I watched him go, warmth blooming in my chest.
"Kitchen's done!" Caleb's voice echoed from somewhere deep inside the house, followed by the distinctive sound of cabinet doors closing.
A moment later, he appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into the back pocket of his worn jeans.
Sawdust clung to his flannel shirt and dusted his dark beard, evidence of the custom shelving he'd been installing since dawn.
"All the cookware's unpacked, pots are hung, and I fixed that drawer that was sticking. "
"You were supposed to be supervising the movers, not doing carpentry," I pointed out, but I couldn't keep the fondness out of my voice.
Caleb shrugged those massive shoulders, the movement making the fabric of his shirt stretch across his broad chest. "Movers were handling it fine.
Couldn't stand watching that drawer stick.
" He crossed to where I stood at the porch railing and pressed a kiss to my temple, his beard scratching pleasantly against my skin.
"You doing okay out here? You've been standing in this spot for twenty minutes. "
Had it been that long? I turned to look at the view again, the long driveway winding through old-growth trees, the meadow stretching out to the east where wildflowers were just starting to bloom, the distant glint of the creek that cut through the property's southern edge.
"I'm just... taking it in," I admitted, leaning back against his solid warmth. "Trying to make it feel real."
Caleb's arm came around my waist, solid and grounding, pulling me against his side. "It's real, Ava. Twenty acres, six bedrooms, that ridiculous chef's kitchen Leo insisted on—"
"I heard that," Leo called from inside, his voice carrying a note of mock offense. "The kitchen is perfectly reasonable for someone who actually knows how to cook."
"—and enough space for all of us to have our own corners while still being together," Caleb continued as if Leo hadn't interrupted, though the corner of his mouth twitched beneath his dark beard. "It's ours. Really, truly ours."
The estate wasn't as large as Harper Manor, we'd all agreed we didn't want that.
Didn't want to recreate what they'd had before.
This was something new, something we'd built together from the ground up.
A sprawling craftsman-style house on twenty acres, with this wraparound porch and enough trees to feel private without feeling hidden.
Close enough to town that I could walk to the farmer's market on Saturday mornings if I wanted.
Far enough away that no one would hear us on particularly. .. enthusiastic nights.
We'd picked it out together, all five of us crowded around a laptop at the cabin, scrolling through listing after listing until we found the one that made everyone's breath catch at the same time.
"This one," Mason had said quietly, his silver eyes reflecting the glow of the screen. It was.
I leaned into Caleb's warmth now, letting myself believe it. Letting myself feel safe. That was when I heard the crunch of gravel. A car was coming up the driveway, not the moving truck, which was already parked, but something else. I squinted against the morning sun, and my blood went cold.
A police cruiser. Everything in me went still. The bond flared with sudden tension, and I felt Caleb stiffen beside me, his arm tightening around my waist.
"Caleb." My voice came out steady, calmer than I felt. "Go help with the movers."
"Like hell," he growled, his voice dropping into that dangerous register, the one that rumbled up from his chest like approaching thunder. His hand splayed possessively across my hip, fingers pressing into the soft cotton of my dress. "I'm not leaving you alone with—"
"Yes, you are." I turned to face him, meeting those dark eyes that had gone sharp and predatory.
"I need to handle this. If he sees four Alphas surrounding me while he's asking questions, it's going to look like I'm being controlled.
Like I'm being coached." I reached up to cup his bearded jaw, letting him feel my certainty through the bond. "Trust me. Please."
Caleb's jaw worked beneath my palm, every instinct clearly screaming at him to stay, to protect, to shield. But finally—finally—he exhaled roughly and pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my lips.
"I'll be right inside," he said, the words low and fierce, his dark eyes boring into mine. "If anything feels wrong, you call. You hear me, sweetheart? You so much as think my name and I'll be through that door."
"I know." I kissed him softly, tasting the coffee he'd had that morning. "Now go. Keep the others inside too."
He pulled back with obvious reluctance, shooting one last look at the approaching cruiser before disappearing into the house. I heard the low murmur of his voice, warning the others, I assumed, and then I was alone on the porch, watching the police car pull to a stop behind the moving truck.
I made myself breathe. Made myself relax my shoulders, unclench my hands, smooth my expression into something pleasant and welcoming.
I could do this. I would do this.
The officer who stepped out of the cruiser was middle-aged, with graying hair beneath his hat and the kind of weathered face that suggested decades of experience.
He moved with the easy confidence of someone who'd done this a thousand times, but his body language read curious rather than aggressive. That was something, at least.
I descended the porch steps as he approached, meeting him halfway across the gravel driveway. Better to engage actively than to make him come to me. Better to seem like someone with nothing to hide.
"Good morning, Officer." I kept my voice warm, my smile genuine. "What can I help you with?"
He touched the brim of his hat, a gesture that felt almost old-fashioned.
"Morning, ma'am. I'm Officer Stevens with the county sheriff's department.
Sorry to interrupt what looks like a busy moving day.
" His eyes swept briefly over the truck, the movers carrying furniture, the obvious signs of a fresh start. "This your new place?"
"It is," I said, gesturing toward the house with a pride I didn't have to fake. "We just closed last month. Still trying to figure out where everything goes."
"Congratulations." He pulled a small notepad from his breast pocket, flipping it open with practiced ease. His pen clicked once, twice, a nervous habit perhaps. "I hate to bother you with this, but I'm actually here following up on a missing persons report. Would you happen to be Ava Lexton?"
Hearing the name, the one I'd used at my old job, the identity that belonged to a different woman in a different life, sent a jolt through my chest. I kept my expression pleasantly confused, tilting my head slightly.
"That's me," I confirmed, keeping my voice light and curious. "Though I go by my pack's name now, after we bonded. Can I ask who filed the report?"
Officer Stevens consulted his notepad, though I suspected he already knew the answer.
His weathered fingers traced down the page before he looked up again.
"Some folks from your former workplace. They said you sent in a resignation letter about eight months ago, but you never came in to do it properly.
No exit interview, no goodbye, just..." He made a vague gesture with his free hand.
"Gone. Packed up and vanished. They said it was completely out of character for you. "
I gave a smile, not letting any emotions show. It really didn't feel like that long sometimes.
"They tried reaching out," Officer Stevens continued, watching my face carefully, his gray eyes sharp despite their tired appearance.
"Emails, phone calls. Nothing. No forwarding address, no social media updates, no word to anyone.
Then a few weeks back, some of them spotted you in town with several men, and they got worried enough to file a report. "