Page 196 of Slashed Bonds

“You and I both know I don’t need a car. Or a car of that caliber.”

“True.” A smirk. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You wouldn’t do that to Greenie.”

She groans. Full-body. “Greenie and I are fucking. We’re not hooking up into some real packship like my girl over here.”

“I’m not…”

I trail off.

Because both of them, without discussing it, lift a hand and gesture at the room. The whole room. Maddie with a sweep of her arm that takes in the lounge and the lamp and the fridge, and Viper with two fingers, barely moving, indicating the beanbag with its pile of stolen men’s clothes and the stuffed snake on top.

Maddie’s face says are you kidding me. Viper’s says are you fucking mad, with an eyebrow up and a frown so deep it’s architectural.

Well.

Shit.

Maybe they’re right. I look around my room, at the furniture I didn’t buy, at the shirt that smells like Nikolai, at the notes stacked on the desk under a stuffed fox, and I’m forced to see it from the door. From where they’re standing.

I am in a serious packship.

“But…” It comes out small. “It hasn’t even been three weeks.”

“Girl. Please.” Maddie flicks her hand like she’s shooing a fly. “Omegas meet their pack in a fucking day and commit for life. That’s biology. That’s a thing in textbooks.”

“That’s—“

“You have a whole-ass nest already.” She’s counting on her fingers now. Pink nails. “They make sure you eat. They make sure you sleep. They’re changing your entire medical schedule, which is expensive as fuck, because they took you off government care and put you on a hundred percent private, that Lessard woman doesn’t come cheap, I looked her up. They moved your stuff out of that shack because they couldn’t stand the thought of you and Knox living in it, and thank FUCK, because it burned down.” A breath. “They rotate walking Knox three times a day. They feed him. They buy him treats on a schedule. And don’t forget the giant dog bed that he doesn’t use.”

“On occasion,” I say.

She’s right. He doesn’t use it. He sleeps on my feet.

“And you’re telling me,” Maddie says, “this ain’t serious.”

She shakes her head. Slowly. The way you shake it at a child who’s insisted the stove isn’t hot.

“Soon they’ll be getting matching tattoos with you.”

I snicker.

It escapes before I can stop it, and it’s the first one in a week, and it feels like something coming unstuck.

“My next one’s supposed to be a monarch.” I touch the inside of my left forearm, over the ink that’s already there, where there’s space. “A butterfly. With this aura coming off her, like she’s radiating, and a dark crescent moon behind. Not sure three Alphas with skulls over their hearts want a girly butterfly.”

“Add a crown.”

Viper. Sly, from the chair. The first thing she’s said that wasn’t a label.

“You’re the Queen of the ice right now. Act like it.”

“RIGHT!” Maddie’s hands go up. “She’s trending EVERYWHERE. The spin’s at two million. I fucking LOVE it.”

I look at both of them.

And a thing comes up in my chest that I need to say before it goes back down.