Page 271 of Psycho Pack

"Where you can be free," Valek finishes softly.

Wraith rumbles in agreement, his massive frame pressing closer protectively.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat so I can speak. "Then let's go make that world. And when we're all home, when we're all safe… I want you all to mark me."

"What did you say?" Thane asks, his tone even rougher.

I take a deep breath, looking up at my alphas as they stare at me in stunned silence. "I want you to mark me," I repeat more firmly. "All of you. When we get home." I reach up to touch the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, where a mating mark would go, near my scar. "I want to be yours completely. And I want you to be mine."

"Little omega..." Valek looks at me like he isn't sure if he's hearing me correctly. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," I say without hesitation. "I've never been more certain of anything." I look around at all of them, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "So we'd all better come back alive, because I'm not doing this without any of you."

"Fuck," Whiskey breathes with a low chuckle. "That's... that's one hell of an incentive to stay alive, wildcat."

"That's the idea," I say with a small smile. "I need you all to promise me you'll be careful. That you'll come back to me." My voice cracks slightly. "Because you're not just my pack. You're my family. My home."

Thane pulls me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "We promise," he says roughly. "Nothing in this world could keep us from coming back to you. Nothing inanyworld."

"Then it's settled," I say, trying to ignore the way my heart races at their words, at the promises in their eyes. "We go in, we tear down the Council, we come home..." I swallow hard. "And then you make me yours."

"You already are ours," Thane says softly. "The marks will just make it official."

"Yeah," I murmur, feeling slightly more at peace now. "Official."

My alphas hold me close for another long moment, surrounding me like a protective cocoon. The weight of what we just admitted to each other hangs in the air, but it doesn't feel heavy anymore.

"Well, shit," Whiskey finally says, breaking the silence. "That got real sappy real quick." He wipes dramatically at his eyes. "Anyone got a tissue? I think I got something in my eye. Probably Plague's cologne."

"And he's back," Plague mutters, but I catch the relief in his voice. The slight upward curve of his lips.

I watch as my alphas move around the room with practiced efficiency, doing final weapons checks and adjusting tactical gear. Even their movements seem lighter now, like confessing our feelings has lifted some invisible weight from their shoulders.

Suddenly, I'm not so sure they were acting somber because of the war at all. Maybe it was just the weight of everything left unspoken. Considering these are hardened military alphas who thrive in a combat zone and freeze up when it comes to discussing emotions, I guess that makes sense.

"Time to move out," Thane says, his deep voice carrying that natural command that makes us all straighten up instinctively.

"Remember," Plague says as we head for the door. "Stick to the plan. We get in, we head straight for the Council chambers. They'll evacuate the VIPs to one spot so they can guard them all. They'll be sitting ducks while our armies go head to head with the Capital's forces, and then?—"

"And then we fuck shit up," Whiskey interrupts cheerfully. "Got it."

"That's... not exactly how I would put it," Plague sighs.

"But that's what's gonna happen," Whiskey points out.

"He's not wrong," I say, earning a proud grin from Whiskey and an exasperated look from Plague.

Things feel normal again.

As normal as they can be right now, at least.

We make our way out of our temporary base into the light of day that will fade to night by the time we make it to Reinmich, passing the leagues of Surhiiran soldiers who snap to attention at the sight of their prince, while Nikolai's mercenaries mill about in their motley array of gear. The contrast would be amusing if it weren't for the deadly serious expressions on everyone's faces.

"Ready?" Thane asks as we reach the head of the convoy.

"Ready," I say firmly.

Whiskey throws open the doors with his usual dramatic flair, revealing the organized chaos of our gathered forces. Surhiiran troops stand before us in perfect formation in a sea of pristine white, all eyes on us.

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