Page 133 of Broken Bonds

I’m practicing telling you in this letter because I plan to tell you soon. Long before you should ever need to read this. If you ever have to read it.

But writing it down is helpful.

I miss Link so damn much, and I want him to be a part of our lives.

I hope when I finally tell you this, we can sit down and call him together. Invite him down so he can meet the amazing omega I fell in love with. That fell in love with me, despite me loving one of her intended alphas.

Ramsey, you just don’t know how much power you hold over me. Over all of us.

The four of us, we would do anything for you.

To us, you are the sun and moon. The galaxy that we orbit, and the flame that sets our blood on fire.

Beautiful inside and out, with a heart of gold that’s impossibly big for the tiny chest you have.

I can’t wait to see you holding our babies. To see the mother you’ll be.

The first time you approached us at AOA, I felt so foolish for how I acted, but you knew it came from a place of fear.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of ridicule.

Fear of you taking Van away.

If only I’d known then you were approaching for both of us. That even then, you wanted me.

I fell in love with you the longer I watched you from afar. You showing up at our dorm room sealed it for me.

I knew that day you’d be mine.

Ours.

And I have loved you every single day since, Petal.

I have loved you with everything I have inside of me, wanting you to never doubt the way I felt about you. I hope that’s what I accomplished this last decade.

I hope I never see the day that I don’t have you in my arms or by my side. And I hope you never have to endure the pain of losing any of us, baby.

I love you more, the most, to infinity and beyond.

My heart, my soul, my omega.

My Petal on the wind.

-Lake

Folding Lake’s letter, I stare out over the water as the sun rises higher in the sky, its rays glinting off the surface of the water. It’s a beautiful morning, and I feel peaceful. I feel okay, maybe a little sad, but in a moment, I know I’ll walk inside and hold my babies in my arms. And after that, my alphas will hold me, and I’ll be okay.

I hear footsteps on the dock and smile, but don’t turn around.

Link’s peppermint scent hits me a second before he sits down beside me, grabbing the hand that’s not holding Lake’s letter and threading our fingers together.

“You’re up early today,” he says, voice still thick with sleep.

“Yeah. I wanted to read Lake’s and Van’s letters. They were the last ones I held on to.”

“You okay?” he asks, his thumb rubbing back and forth the palm of my hand.

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