Page 101 of Knot Their Safe Haven
Then again.
I pull back with a groan, fishing the phone from my pocket.
"Gatekeeping mother fucking assholes."
"Answer it,” she encourages now with an amused glint in her eyes. She's smiling, lips swollen and eyes dark. "Pack duty calls."
"Dante, this better be?—"
"We're at the airport." His voice carries amusement because he knows exactly what he's interrupting. "Private terminal.Come get us or we're taking a very public Uber and making sure everyone knows we're coming to see our omega."
"You wouldn't."
"Damon's already got the app open."
Motherfuckers.
"I hate you both."
"Love you too. Twenty minutes or we start posting."
He hangs up, and I resist the urge to throw my phone at something expensive.
"The twins?"
"Threatening social media terrorism if I don't collect them immediately."
Velvet laughs, pushing off the car with fluid grace.
"We should go get them then."
"We should leave them at the airport to think about their choices."
"Alexis." Her hand finds mine, fingers interlacing naturally. "Can we do this again? The racing, not the twins being dramatic."
"We can do whatever you want, whenever you want." I squeeze her hand, marveling at how small it feels in mine despite the power it commands. "Track's ours anytime."
Her smile could power cities.
"More adventures await?"
"So many adventures. Racing's just the beginning. Wait until you see what the twins consider entertainment."
"Terrifying or exciting?"
"Yes."
We walk toward the Bentley I'd driven here—more comfortable for four people than the McLaren. Velvet slides into the passenger seat with easy elegance, already comfortable in spaces that cost millions.
"For someone who's never had proper pack care," I observe, starting the engine, "you're adapting remarkably fast."
"Maybe because this pack doesn't require adaptation." She watches mountains blur past as we leave the track. "You just...accept. No conditions or amendments or twenty-year waiting periods."
"Novel concept, accepting people as they are."
"Revolutionary, even."
The drive toward the airport is comfortable, her hand resting on my thigh while I navigate mountain roads that would terrify flatlanders. The weight of her touch is grounding—reminder that this is real, she's here, we're building something.
