The Lost Pack
That homemade little card with its messy green paint and stick figures means more than all the official paperwork in the world.
I lean into Parker, slipping my hand into his. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, soothing me, while Callen leans casually against the counter, a grin tugging at his mouth as he watches Ryder and Jax. Remy stands a little apart from us, his expression neutral, but his eyes are warm. I love this, having all of them, my mates and my son, together under one roof.
We might have hunters on our backs, and our future is uncertain, but right now I feel safe. Not just hopeful, not just clinging to survival, but happy, safe and so full of love I could burst.
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