21. Sloane
TWENTY-ONE
SLOANE
Three days had passed since Darius Kade's final breath echoed through the opulent halls of his estate, since justice had finally been served for crimes that had haunted the Hale pack for twelve years.
Three days since Sloane had looked into the lifeless ice-blue eyes of the man who'd tried to destroy everything she'd finally allowed herself to believe she deserved—two incredible mates who loved her unconditionally, a home at Hale Lodge, and a pack family that had fought to rescue her and protect the future she'd just begun to imagine.
Now, on this Monday morning, Sloane stood in the spacious kitchen of Hale Lodge, her hands dusted with flour as she kneaded pasta dough beside Kozue.
Sunlight poured through the windows, casting golden rectangles across the polished granite countertops and illuminating the controlled chaos of their ambitious cooking project.
The familiar scents of garlic, herbs, and simmering tomatoes filled the air, but today carried something different—an electric anticipation that made her skin tingle with excitement.
Over the past three days, she'd convinced Ronan and Kozue to embrace a new tradition.
Instead of limiting the Monday communal spaghetti dinner to lodge guests, they would open it to the entire Hale pack—all one hundred and fifty wolf shifters who called this territory home.
And rather than waiting until Wednesday for their usual bonfire, they'd incorporate both events into a single celebration of community.
"You're overthinking that dough," Kozue observed, his warm green eyes dancing with amusement as he watched her work. "It's supposed to be pasta, not a stress ball."
Sloane paused in her aggressive kneading, realizing she'd been channeling her nervous energy into the innocent ball of flour and eggs. "Sorry. I just want everything to be perfect."
"It will be." Ronan's deep voice carried absolute certainty as he entered the kitchen carrying an armload of fresh herbs from the lodge's garden.
His black hair was slightly tousled from the morning breeze, and dirt smudged his strong hands—evidence that he'd been working alongside the pack members who maintained their vegetable gardens.
"The fact that you care this much already makes it perfect. "
The sight of her Alpha mate—powerful, commanding, utterly devoted—still made her heart skip.
Through their completed triad bond, she felt his quiet satisfaction at seeing her so invested in pack life, his pride in her natural leadership instincts, and underneath it all, his profound contentment at having her permanently woven into the fabric of their community.
When she'd first suggested expanding the dinner, Ronan had questioned whether they could accommodate two hundred people.
But Sloane, Kozue, and Emerson had presented a coordinated campaign that would have impressed military strategists.
They could utilize the wedding reception ballroom that usually sat empty, transform the sprawling back gardens with string lights and additional seating, and create multiple food stations to manage the flow of guests and pack members.
"The logistics are sound," she'd argued during their planning session.
"And think about what this represents—breaking down the artificial barrier between 'business' and 'family.
' The lodge guests will see the warmth and love that makes this place special, and our pack gets to celebrate openly in their own home. "
Emerson had chimed in with her usual enthusiasm: "Plus, can you imagine how amazing it'll feel to have everyone together? No more pretending we're just employees when we're really family."
Even Ronan's practical Alpha mind couldn't argue with the benefits. Kozue had sealed the deal by pointing out that guests often commented on the lodge's incredible atmosphere—this would show them the source of that magic.
Now, after slaving away with Emerson yesterday to transform the ballroom and gardens, Sloane found herself in the heart of the lodge's kitchen with both her mates, preparing to feed an army.
The intimacy of cooking together—their hands occasionally brushing as they reached for ingredients, the easy rhythm of their shared tasks, the way Ronan had rolled up his sleeves and tied an apron around his narrow waist—filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat radiating from the industrial ovens.
"Hand me that wooden spoon," Ronan said, gesturing toward the utensil drawer as he stirred a massive pot of marinara sauce. Steam rose from the bubbling surface, carrying the rich aroma of tomatoes, basil, and secret ingredients Kozue guarded like state secrets.
Sloane grabbed the spoon and moved to pass it to him, but their fingers lingered when he took it from her. The simple contact sent that familiar electric shock racing up her arm—a reminder that even the most mundane moments carried the magic of their bond.
"You know," she said, unable to suppress her smile, "three days ago I was convinced I'd lost everything. Now I'm standing in this kitchen, preparing a party for two hundred people, and it feels like the most incredible gift I've ever received."
Kozue paused in his mixing of banana bread batter, his expression growing serious. "That's because you've found where you belong. This—" He gestured around the kitchen, encompassing not just the space but everything it represented. "—was always meant to be your home."
Through their bond, she felt both men's emotions like warm honey spreading through her chest. Ronan's fierce protectiveness and his determination to give her the stability she'd never had.
Kozue's gentle certainty and his joy at seeing her embrace the life they could build together.
And underneath it all, their shared amazement that fate had brought them together through such unlikely circumstances.
"I still can't believe you agreed to help cook instead of hiding in your office," she teased Ronan, bumping his shoulder with hers as she moved to check on the second pot of sauce. "Emerson nearly fainted when I told her you'd be joining us in the kitchen."
Ronan's lips quirked in that smile that never failed to make her stomach flutter. "Two people couldn't possibly cook for two hundred. You needed an extra set of hands."
But through their bond, she felt the real reason—his desire to spend quality time with his mate and his brother, his recognition that these moments of domestic intimacy were just as important as his Alpha duties.
For twelve years, he'd buried himself in responsibility and duty.
Now, finally, he was learning to embrace joy alongside obligation.
"Besides," he continued, "watching you take charge is incredibly attractive."
"Everything Sloane does is incredibly attractive," Kozue added with a grin, earning himself a gentle swat with a dish towel.
The playful banter, the comfortable touches, the way they moved around each other with ease—it all felt like a glimpse into the future they were building. Not just as mates, but as partners in every aspect of life.
"Alright, taste this," Kozue said, approaching with a wooden spoon loaded with banana bread batter. "Tell me if it needs more vanilla."
Sloane opened her mouth obediently, but instead of simply tasting, she wrapped her lips around the spoon in a way that made both men go very still. The sweet batter melted on her tongue, but her attention was focused on the way Ronan's blue eyes darkened and Kozue's breathing hitched.
"Perfect," she murmured, slowly releasing the spoon and licking her lips. "Just like everything else you make."
The kitchen's temperature seemed to spike as the sexual tension crackled between them. Even after three days of being mated, even after countless intimate moments, the attraction between them burned as hot as ever.
"Let's focus," Ronan said, his deep voice rougher than usual. "We have work to do." But he didn't step away from her, and through their bond, she felt his desire blazing just as fiercely as her own.
Just then, Emerson burst through the kitchen doors, her auburn hair slightly disheveled and her green eyes bright with excitement. "How's the cooking going?"
She stopped short, taking in the scene—Sloane positioned between two obviously aroused males in a kitchen that suddenly felt charged with electricity.
"Oh," she said, her eyebrows rising. "Should I come back later?"
"No," Sloane said quickly, stepping away from her mates with obvious reluctance. "We're just... discussing the cooking."
Emerson's grin suggested she wasn't fooled for a second. "Right. Cooking. Well, when you're done with your very intense cooking, we could use help setting up the food stations. The ballroom looks amazing, by the way—like something out of a fairy tale."
The reminder of what they were building—not just for themselves, but for their entire pack—helped Sloane regain her focus. This evening wasn't just about celebrating their community; it was about establishing new traditions, creating memories, and showing everyone that Hale Lodge truly was home.
Hours later, the moment had finally arrived, and Sloane's heart thundered with anticipation as she watched their carefully orchestrated evening unfold.
Through the front doors of Hale Lodge—no longer guarded by Jarvis and Bruno since Darius Kade's death four nights ago—came a steady stream of guests and pack members.
What had started as a trickle quickly became a flood of laughter, conversation, and the warm chaos of community gathering.
Sloane positioned herself beside Emerson near the entrance, greeting each arrival with genuine enthusiasm.
The lodge guests—couples celebrating anniversaries, families on vacation, business travelers seeking respite—mingled seamlessly with pack members she was still learning to recognize.
Children darted around while their parents exchanged embraces and caught up on pack news.