Page 83 of Taken By the Pack

“Good girl,” Jake murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I huff a laugh. “You guys always take such good care of me.”

Rowan smirks. “Of course. You’re ours.”

The warmth in my chest has nothing to do with the heat I woke up with.

And as I drift back into sleep, surrounded, safe, wanted—I believe them.

23

ASH

The taxi bumps along the quiet streets, early morning light creeping in through the windows.

Rowan and Jake wanted to sleep in, but I had shit to do—meet with my supervisor, pretend to be a functioning adult, and Grace had a doctor’s appointment.

She’s sitting next to me, leaning against the window, hair still messy from last night, wearing Jake’s hoodie. It looks good on her. Too good.

She turns her head slightly, eyes finding mine. “So...” she draws out the word, smirking, “how are you holding up after your first harem sex experience?”

I scoff, running a hand through my hair. “Jesus, Grace.”

“What?” She nudges my leg with hers. “It’s a valid question.”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t ease into things, do you?”

“Not really.” She’s grinning now, but there’s something softer beneath it. She’s not just teasing—she’s checking in.

I don’t know how to answer. I don’t even know how I fucking feel. Last night was... a lot. Good, yeah. Insanely good. But also, it cracked something open in me that I’ve been trying to keep locked down.

I clear my throat, staring out the window. “It was... different.”

“Different how?”

I exhale slowly. “I haven’t—” I stop myself, press my lips together, shake my head.

Grace shifts closer, her knee pressing into mine, her hand settling on my arm. Warm. Steady. “Talk to me, Ash.”

Fuck.

I drag a hand down my face, keeping my gaze on the passing buildings. “I was bonded before.”

The words land heavy between us. I don’t look at her.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just waits.

“Her name was Mia,” I say, quieter this time. “She was... bright. Smart. Loved the ocean like I did. We used to talk for hours about shit no one else cared about. Tidal shifts, coral bleaching, deep-sea vents. It made sense. We made sense.”

Grace stays quiet, her fingers tracing small circles on my arm.

I swallow hard, force the words out.

“She got sick. Cancer. By the time they caught it, it was too late. She was gone before we even had a chance to really live. And after that...”

I shake my head, jaw tight. “I buried myself in my work for years. And then I moved out here. I told myself it was for research, but really, I just—” I exhale sharply. “I didn’t want to be around people who looked at me like I was broken.”

Grace remains silent for a long moment. Then, she laces her fingers through mine.

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