Chapter Seventeen #2
I pulled back just enough to see their faces clearly, all four of them clustered protectively around me—my pack, my family, each of them wearing a stunned, tender, fiercely protective expression.
“This isn’t the end,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion and fierce love. “This is our next chapter. It’ll be loud, messy, and probably more dangerous than ever.”
Romano smiled softly, eyes glinting with unshed tears. “Sounds like perfection.”
Jace gave a whoop and lifted me off my feet, spinning us both around until the entire world blurred. When he finally set me down, breathless and laughing, Kingston cupped my face, his thumb brushing softly across my cheek.
“You,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion, “are our everything. Our world. And now you’re carrying our future.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, warmth spreading through my chest, contentment settling deep into my bones. “And gods help anyone who tries to fuck with us again.”
Voss stood slowly, lethal calm replacing his initial shock, his smirk sharp and predatory. “Oh, they won’t dare.”
I smiled, bright and wicked, basking in their joy, their love, the wild chaos we’d created.
No, this wasn’t the end of my story.
It was only the beginning—and I couldn’t wait to see what came next.
Violet
November 12th
9:21 A.M
The early-morning sun spilled through the kitchen windows, bathing everything in a soft, golden glow. It should’ve felt calm and peaceful, but “calm” wasn’t our brand. And peaceful? Ha.
Not in this house.
I sat perched on the kitchen island, bare legs swinging gently as I watched the daily spectacle unfold around me.
I was wearing Jex’s old t-shirt, faded black cotton draped comfortably over my shoulders, slipping off one side.
My fuzzy socks—covered in little cartoon knives, naturally—completed the outfit.
A half-finished cup of coffee rested at my side, still warm enough to steam.
Jex, true to form, was busy glaring at a piece of furniture he’d started assembling over an hour ago.
His dark hair was disheveled from repeated frustrated hand-sweeps, and a screwdriver dangled precariously from between his teeth as he scowled at the instructions like they’d personally insulted his mother.
Fox lounged comfortably against the counter opposite me, scrolling casually through his phone, one arm crossed over his chest. His sandy-blonde hair caught the sunlight, turning it nearly golden.
He glanced up every few seconds, grinning at Jex’s misery and offering “helpful” commentary that only made it worse.
“You know,” Fox drawled lazily, eyes sparkling with mischief, “you’ve put that shelf on backwards. Twice.”
Jex growled low under his breath, screwdriver dropping into his palm. “If you don’t put that phone down, I’m going to shove it—”
“Jex,” Dare’s voice interrupted calmly from the doorway, smooth as silk and effortlessly commanding, “let’s keep murder off the schedule until at least noon.”
Dare moved into the kitchen like he owned the space—because, well, he did. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss against my forehead, his lips warm, comforting, always sure. I tilted my face up, smiling softly. “Morning.”
“Morning, sweetheart,” Dare murmured, eyes warm and amused. He turned to Jex and Fox, a brow raised elegantly. “Are we actually planning on using that shelf, or is this some elaborate dominance display I should pretend to understand?”
Jex gave him an exasperated look, hands thrown wide. “You’re both hilarious. Truly. Keep it up and you’ll build your own damn furniture next time.”
I laughed softly, warmth spreading through my chest. They bickered constantly, but it was never sharp. Just comfortable, a soft undercurrent of affection beneath the teasing.
“You know,” I mused aloud, smirking slightly, “I still haven’t seen the grand gesture I was promised after the last kidnapping fiasco.”
Jex paused, the irritation slipping from his face to be replaced by a slow, predatory smile. He stepped toward me, placing his palms on either side of my hips against the counter. His dark eyes sparkled with heat and a promise I knew all too well. “And what exactly do you have in mind, princess?”
I arched an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Something dramatic, maybe involving glitter. Explosions wouldn’t hurt.”
Fox snorted a laugh, clearly amused. “Careful, Vi. Don’t give him ideas.”
I winked at him. “Too late.”
I felt the smile stretch my cheeks, wide and real, genuine in a way I hadn’t been able to feel until them. My pack. My chaotic, wonderful alphas.
Jex tugged me into his chest, gently pressing his lips to my temple. “Happy, princess?”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, letting myself melt into his warmth. “Ridiculously so.”
Fox slid closer, slipping an arm around my waist, and Dare moved in as well, until I was cocooned between the three of them—safe, surrounded, and undeniably loved.
This was what happiness looked like now.
But morning light. Laughter in our kitchen. Teasing, chaotic affection.
This was home.
And I finally knew peace wasn’t boring—not really.
Not when peace looked exactly like this.
Although I’ll miss the explosions.
Odette
May 13th
12:42 P.M
The backyard was a picture-perfect chaos of alphas attempting to out-grill each other and omegas lounging in clusters, trading gossip and laughter beneath the late afternoon sun.
My pack’s sprawling house had quickly become the unofficial gathering place for our misfit family—a vibrant, noisy collision of Rosetti charm, Frost’s military calm, and Hael’s barely contained chaos.
Add my mother’s warmth, Henry’s watchful presence, and Adrienne’s biting humor; it was exactly as hectic as it sounded.
And I loved every second of it.
My head rested on Micha’s thigh, stretched out comfortably on one of the oversized patio sofas we’d dragged outside.
Salem sat at my feet, absently rubbing circles against my ankles, while Ravik loomed nearby, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the grill where Kingston and Jex argued fiercely about the right way to flip burgers.
Bless him, Haze was currently attempting to convince Voss and Fox that marshmallows counted as appetizers if you toasted them first.
Fallon cackled wildly nearby, Romano’s arm draped casually around her shoulders as he sipped from a beer bottle.
Her arms resting on her five month pregnant belly.
Violet was curled contentedly in Dare’s lap, smiling indulgently while he argued animatedly with Adrienne about something I couldn’t quite hear over the general racket.
My mother drifted past, elegant and at ease in her flowing sundress, smiling warmly at Henry, who hovered near the patio like a sentinel.
His jeans and dark shirt might have appeared casual, but his sharp gaze catalogued every detail.
When he caught me watching, he offered a subtle nod that made my heart swell.
Even now, even safe, he stood guard, ever my protector.
“You look happy,” Micha murmured, his fingers gently threading through my hair.
“I am,” I replied softly. “More than I thought I could be.”
“You deserve it, little warrior,” Salem said, squeezing my foot affectionately. The gold Valkyrie cuff gleamed proudly on my bicep, catching the sunlight as if it, too, celebrated my healing.
Movement caught my eye as someone entered through the side gate, and my smile widened. “Riven!”
Long black hair, vibrant hazel eyes, and tattoos swirling boldly up both arms, Riven waved warmly at us.
She looked softer than I remembered, the tension of captivity finally faded from her features, replaced with a quiet strength.
Fallon immediately whooped in greeting, and Violet hopped off Dare’s lap to hug Riven fiercely.
“Glad you could make it!” Fallon grinned, tugging Riven towards us. “You survived your first invite into this madness.”
Riven laughed, though there was something quiet, almost bittersweet in the sound. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Everything okay?” Violet asked softly, sensing the shift just as I did.
Riven hesitated, eyes flicking across the yard full of joyful chaos. “Could I talk to you three for a second?”
“Of course,” I said, gently untangling myself from my alphas. Micha and Salem exchanged a glance, but let me go without question, trusting I’d tell them later. I slipped an arm through Riven’s, leading her toward the quieter corner near the old oak tree.
Fallon leaned against the thick trunk, crossing her arms with an expectant smirk. “Alright, spill. What’s up?”
Riven took a steadying breath, eyes thoughtful. “I’ve decided to leave Chicago.”
The declaration hung softly between us, not entirely unexpected, but bittersweet nonetheless.
“Really?” Violet asked gently. “Have you thought about where?”
Riven shook her head, the breeze catching strands of her hair and tugging them free. “Not yet. But after everything, this city just doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s too heavy here. I think I need a fresh start.”
“I get that,” Fallon said quietly, surprising us with the seriousness in her voice. “Sometimes you need distance to breathe again. And you deserve that, Riv.”
A small smile curved Riven’s lips. “I hoped you’d understand.”
“You deserve to be happy,” I told her, squeezing her arm. “Whatever it takes, wherever you land.”
“Just promise us postcards and occasional proof-of-life selfies,” Violet teased, nudging Riven’s shoulder playfully.
Riven laughed, eyes brightening. “Deal.”
“You’ll always have us, you know,” Fallon said, her voice firm and sincere. “If you ever need backup or bail money.”
Riven rolled her eyes, chuckling again, lighter this time. “I’ve seen what happens when people mess with you three. Believe me, you’re the first call I’ll make.”
We hugged tightly, a circle of friendship forged in the fires of trauma and tempered into something unbreakable. When we finally stepped back, Riven wiped her eyes, laughing softly at herself.
“Okay, enough of that.” Fallon clapped her hands together decisively. “We’ve got chaos to rejoin and marshmallows to rescue before Haze ruins dinner.”
Laughing, we returned to the party, slipping back into the welcoming warmth of our chaotic family. Micha held his arms out to me, pulling me down onto his lap with an easy smile. Ravik handed me a drink, brushing his fingers across mine in quiet reassurance.
“You good?” Salem murmured, watching my expression carefully.
I glanced across the yard at Riven, now chatting easily with my mom and Henry, her smile soft but hopeful. I leaned my head back against Micha’s shoulder, soaking in the laughter, the smoky warmth of grilled meat, and the playful, bickering chatter of the people I loved most.
“I’m better than good,” I whispered.
Haze bounded up suddenly, marshmallow skewers in hand, eyes glittering with mischief. “Who’s ready to set dessert on fire?”
Laughter rippled around us, bright and free.
Here, amidst these wonderfully dangerous people, I was whole. We’d fought hard, loved fiercely, and survived together.
And now, beneath the gentle Chicago sun, we were exactly where we belonged.