Page 172 of Pack Plus One

“Forever,” I agree, tilting my head to expose my neck. “Starting now.”

The gesture is all the permission he needs. With a growl that vibrates through my very bones, Caleb’s teeth sink into the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder. Pain flares briefly before dissolving into a pleasure so intense it triggers another orgasm, my body arching as the bond forms instantly—a golden thread linking us together that branches outward, connecting me to all four of them through our alpha.

When he pulls back, his eyes are glowing with satisfaction, my blood staining his lower lip. “Ours,” he rumbles.

“Yours,” I agree, tilting my head to offer another part of my neck, this time to Jude.

He doesn’t hesitate, his mouth hot against my skin as his teeth sink in just below my ear. I gasp at the fresh wave ofpain and pleasure that crashes through me, the bond between us clicking into place with the same intensity as Caleb’s had, another thread weaving into the tapestry that’s forming.

Liam moves forward next, his hands gentle but sure as he guides me to expose the back of my neck. His teeth find unmarked skin, claiming me with a bite that sends sparks racing down my spine. The bond forms immediately, another connection joining the others, strengthening the web that now ties us all together.

Mason completes the circle, his teeth grazing the soft skin above my collarbone before sinking in with surprising strength. His mark burns just as deep, his bond settling into place alongside the others, the final piece of a puzzle I didn’t know needed solving.

Four marks. Four bonds. Four pieces of myself given and received, forming something greater than any of us could be alone.

Mason traces the outline of his bite with a gentle finger before bending to press his lips to the mark. “We love you, Leah,” he whispers, his hand finding mine and squeezing gently. “So fucking much.”

As the final bond settles into place, something shifts within me—a sense of completion that fills spaces I never knew were empty. The puzzle pieces around my neck seem to warm against my skin in acknowledgment.

As another wave of heat rises within me, I surrender to it without fear, knowing I’m exactly where I belong—in the heart of a pack that loves me not despite my independence but because of it.

In their arms, surrounded by their scents and their love, I am finally, completely home.

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

Leah

I dive behind the counter as the mixer sputters to life, but unlike last year’s flour apocalypse, this time the machine purrs with perfect precision. The meringue whips into glossy peaks, not a speck flying astray.

“False alarm,” I announce, straightening up to find Mason watching me with barely concealed amusement. “What? Better safe than sorry.”

“I did replace the gasket last week,” he reminds me, sliding a spreadsheet across the counter. “Also, quarterly profits are up eighteen percent, and your lemon-thyme shortbread has officially surpassed the cinnamon rolls as our top seller.”

I scan the numbers, still marveling at how smoothly Sweet Omega runs these days. What started as my scrappy little bakery has evolved into a neighborhood institution, with lines that sometimes stretch around the block despite our expanded hours and additional staff.

“Mrs. Finley will be devastated,” I say, referencing our most loyal customer’s notorious addiction to my cinnamon rolls. “She’ll blame the lack of sage green walls again.”

Mason’s lips quirk into that subtle smile I’ve come to treasure. The gold band on his left hand catches the light as he reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on the matching ring I wear alongside my engagement diamond.

“At least she’s loyal,” he notes. “Unlike the customers who abandoned Alpha Bites after just a few weeks.”

I chuckle at the memory. “Fastest restaurant closure I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Turns out flashy decor couldn’t hide mediocre pastries,” Mason adds with quiet satisfaction.

Eric’s grand venture had shuttered after barely a month in business, his pastry chef quitting in a spectacularly public meltdown that went viral thanks to Jude’s strategic social media coverage. Last we heard, Eric had fled to Europe somewhere, licking his wounds and pretending the whole fiasco never happened.

The sweet taste of that victory had been just one highlight in a year full of them. My fingers absently twist the gold band on my left hand, still not quite used to its presence. Sometimes I catch myself staring at the rings, marveling at how far we’ve come.

The ceremony had been small but perfect—just our closest friends gathered in the brewery’s garden, which Liam and Jude had transformed into a fairytale setting with twinkling lights and flowers everywhere. Zoe had been my maid of honor and Mrs. Finley had officiated. I’d worn a simple cream dress, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers that matched the ones woven through my hair.

The four of them had stood together, waiting for me at the end of the aisle—my alphas, my beta, my pack, my husbands.

I will never forget the way they looked at me. As if I was the best thing that ever happened to them in their entire lives.

The bell above the door jingles, and Jude bursts in with his typical hurricane energy, three shopping bags dangling from each arm.

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