Page 49 of Hunt

Hector and Sam exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them in the space of a heartbeat. Then, moving with exquisite care, they ease onto the bed on either side of me, their strong arms encircling my waist, mindful of my injuries.

I'm cocooned in a nest of warm, musky male, their combined scents wrapping around me like a protective blanket. Silas nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, his lips brushing against my mating mark in a featherlight caress. Dante's fingers carve through my hair, the gentle scrape of his nails against my scalp sending shivers of pleasure rippling down my spine.

Hector's hand finds mine, our fingers twining together in a wordless promise. His thumb traces soothing circles on my skin, the rough calluses a reminder of everything he’s done to keep me safe. Sam's arm drapes across my hips, his touch a grounding presence, anchoring me to the here and now.

"Sleep, mate," Dante murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "We'll be here when you wake up. We'll always be here."

My eyelids grow heavy, the pull of sleep too strong to resist. I burrow deeper into the cocoon of my alphas, feeling safe, cherished, loved in a way I never thought possible. The steady thrum of their heartbeats lulls me, a soothing lullaby that chases away the lingering shadows of pain and fear.

As I drift off, I hear Hector’s voice, low and fierce with promise, rage, love and the ferocity of an alpha. "We're not going anywhere, Omega Carbone. You're ours now, and we protect what's ours."

EPILOGUE

6 months later:

The crack of the gunshot echoes through the cavernous basement, but the silencer helps. I watch as Rosa squeezes the trigger again, her slender arms absorbing the recoil with a strength that belies her delicate frame.

Six months. It's hard to believe it's been that long since we escaped the clutches of our fathers, since I watched the life bleed out of them on that blood-soaked concrete floor. Some days, it feels like a lifetime ago. Others, the memories are so visceral, so raw, it's like no time has passed at all.

But we're healing, slowly but surely. The scars on my skin have faded to shiny pink lines, the bullet wound in my stomach nothing more than a gnarled pucker of scar tissue. But the scars on my soul, on Rosa's...those will take longer to fade.

That's why we're here, in the sprawling shooting range Alessio had installed in the basement of my Oregon home. I’m keeping the house for Rosa. I’ve been living with my mates since returning home, but Rosa needs a space to call her own.

We’ve been coming down here every day, and I’ve been training her. She’s catching on quickly, and it feels better knowing that my sister will finally be able to defend herself.

Rosa empties the magazine into the paper target, each shot clustered tightly in the center mass. She lowers the gun, a fierce gleam of satisfaction in her bright eyes as she turns to face me.

"How was that?" she asks, a hint of challenge in her voice.

I can't help but grin, pride swelling in my chest. "Damn near perfect, sis. You're a natural."

She scoffs, but I can see the pleased flush rising in her cheeks. "I had a good teacher."

My smile softens, understanding passing between us in that wordless way only sisters can. We both know this is about more than just learning to shoot. It's about taking back control, about refusing to be victims any longer.

“A little to the left, in my opinion,” comes a teasing voice from behind us.

Rosa and I both groan and we cast looks at Sarah, who sits at a small table by the far wall, sipping from a glass of white wine like she has no cares in the world.

Sarah and Rosa have become fast friends. She knows everything that’s happened, and has been a huge reason why life seems to be getting back to normal. After everything went down, Sarah showed up in the Hamptons and demanded that she be able to take care of me while I healed from my gunshot wound. The woman is a force of fucking nature, but she’s the best friend I never knew I needed.

"You're one to talk," Rosa retorts, rolling her eyes at Sarah's playful jab. "I seem to recall you nearly taking Hector’s head off the last timeyoutried to shoot."

Sarah laughs, the sound bright and carefree. "In my defense, he deserved it. The man's ego could use a little puncturing now and again."

I chuckle, shaking my head at their banter. It feels good to laugh, to let the weight of the past lift, even if only for a moment.

"Alright, ladies," I say, clapping my hands together. "I think that's enough target practice for one day. What do you say we head upstairs get a little wine drunk and watch Twilight?”

Sarah's eyes light up, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Now that's the best idea I've heard all day. But on one condition—no men allowed. This is strictly a girls' night."

"Agreed. I love my mates, but sometimes a girl just needs a break from all that alpha testosterone."

Rosa screws up her nose as if the thought makes her want to gag.

I feel a rush of affection for these two incredible women who have become my rocks, my anchors in the storm. We make our way up the winding staircase, leaving the ghosts of our past in the shadows of the basement.

The kitchen is awash in the warm glow of the setting sun, the light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook old growth Oregon forest.

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