Page 100 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
I’d come to Hollow Haven to escape my past and rebuild my career. I’d found so much more than that. I’d found pack. I’d found home. I’d found three alphas who saw every broken piece of me and chose to stay anyway.
And that was worth more than any professional success could ever be.
“Okay,” I said, pulling back from the group hug with a smile. “Let’s go home. We can celebrate properly tonight with the good wine Cassian’s been hiding.”
“I haven’t been hiding it,” Cassian protested. “I’ve been aging it for a special occasion.”
“This counts as special,” Jace said firmly. “Opening day success, pack unity, and Talia finally saying yes to future mini Jace’s. That’s definitely worth the good wine.”
“Fair point,” Cassian conceded.
We locked up the bistro together, and I took one last look at the space I’d created with pack support. My name was on the sign. My vision filled the dining room. My dream had become real because three alphas had believed in me even when I hadn’t quite believed in myself.
As we walked home through twilight streets, hand in hand with my pack, I thought about how far I’d come since arriving in Hollow Haven six months ago. Broken and scared and convinced I’d never trust anyone again. Determined to rebuild my career alone because depending on people only led to disappointment.
But these three men had shown me something different. That vulnerability could be strength. That asking for help wasn’t weakness. That love multiplied instead of dividing when you chose the right people.
“What are you thinking about?” Hollis asked, sensing my emotional shift through the bond.
“How different my life is now,” I admitted. “How different I am. Six months ago I never would have believed this was possible.”
“And now?” Jace prompted.
“Now I can’t imagine any other life,” I said honestly. “This pack, this town, this future we’re building together. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed.”
Through the bonds I felt their agreement, their satisfaction, their deep love for me and for each other.
We were pack. We were family. We were home.
And this was only the beginning.
Epilogue
Talia
One year later
The kitchen at The Hearthstone Bistro smelled like rosemary and roasting chicken, caramelized onions and fresh bread. Friday evening service was in full swing, the dining room packed with familiar faces and a few tourists who’d heard about the little restaurant tucked into Hollow Haven’s main street.
“Order up,” I called, sliding two plates across the pass. “Table seven, the duck special and the mushroom risotto.”
Maya grabbed them with practiced efficiency. “Table four wants to know if you can do the butternut squash soup as a starter instead of a main.”
“Tell them absolutely,” I said, already reaching for a smaller bowl.
Through the kitchen window I could see Cassian at a corner table, working on his laptop while nursing a glass of the bistro’s house red. He came most Friday evenings, claiming he neededto catch up on consulting work but really just wanting to be near me while I did what I loved. Through our bond I felt his contentment, his satisfaction at watching me thrive.
The bistro had exceeded every projection. We’d been profitable within four months instead of six, and I’d already had to hire two more staff members to keep up with demand. What had started as a dream to rebuild my career had become something bigger. A community gathering place. A showcase for local ingredients. A restaurant that felt like home.
“Talia,” Peyton called from her station. “We’re low on the herb oil. Do you want me to make more or pivot to the brown butter for the next round of pasta orders?”
“Make more,” I decided. “We’ve got enough service left that we’ll need it.”
The rhythm of the kitchen was as familiar as breathing now. The controlled chaos, the coordination, the satisfaction of plating beautiful food and sending it out to people who’d come here specifically for what we created. This was what I’d been meant to do all along. Not cooking in Vincent’s shadow, constantly doubting myself, but leading my own kitchen with confidence I’d slowly rebuilt over the past year.
Service wound down around nine. The last table lingered over dessert while Peyton and I cleaned our stations and prepped for tomorrow’s lunch service. Sofia had already left, her pastries for the weekend safely stored and labeled.
“Great service tonight,” Peyton said, wiping down her station. “That new duck preparation is going to be a hit.”
