Page 165 of Daisy
I know we're exactly where we're supposed to be.
Through our bonds, I feel all of them. Dante's steady strength, August's gentle wisdom, Hawk's wild loyalty, Gunner's quiet devotion, Cassian's fierce protection. All of it mixing together into something that feels like home. Free. Together.
We're going home.
Epilogue Daisy
One year later
The baby kicks.
Hard.
I gasp, my hand flying to my rounded belly where our daughter is apparently doing gymnastics at seven in the morning. Five months along and she's already as stubborn as her daddies.
"Someone's awake," I murmur, rubbing the spot where her little foot just jabbed my ribs.
Through the kitchen window, I can hear Hawk's laughter carrying across the yard. He's probably broken something again. Poor Gunner.
Bacon sizzles in the pan. Coffee percolates. Normal sounds in our expanded cabin that still make my chest tight with happiness. This is mine. All of it. Because I chose it.
The screen door slams.
"Morning, beautiful." Dante's honey-clove scent wraps around me as he drops a kiss on my forehead. Sweat and summer air and that steady warmth that's purely him. His palm settles next to mine on my belly.
Our daughter kicks again, right against his hand.
"Oh." Dante's eyes go wide. "She knows I'm here."
"She always knows when you're here." I lean back against his chest, breathing him in. "You're her favorite."
"I'm everyone's favorite," he says, grinning.
"You wish," August calls from the table, not looking up from his tablet. His bergamot scent is bright this morning. Happy. "Latest report from the Centers."
"Good news?" I ask.
"Ninety-three percent." August's hazel eyes meet mine. "Ninety-three percent of omegas who met potential packs last month chose to bond. Their choice. No lottery. No money."
He pauses, scanning further down the report. "Though the Centers note that about twenty percent of newly freed omegas need extended counseling. Learning to make your own decisions after years of being controlled... it's harder than people expected."
My scent spikes with satisfaction. Sweet honeysuckle flooding the kitchen.
No more Choosing Days. No more auctions. No more treating us like prizes.
The new system works. It actually works.
"Rose sent pictures," I say, reaching for the tablet. My sister looks radiant in her lab coat, rose scent practically glowing through the screen. "Twelve more successful bond reversals this month."
Dante peers over my shoulder. "She looks happy."
"She is happy. Finally."
The back door crashes open.
"Princess!" Hawk bounces in, sawdust in his hair, paint streaked across his cheek. His caramel scent spikes with excitement and mischief. "I may have made a tiny miscalculation."
Oh no.
