Page 64 of Daisy

All because I'm too selfish to go back to the life Uncle planned for me.

I should have told them not to go. Should have insisted they take me back to Uncle, let them keep their quiet life.

But when I try to imagine never seeing August's gentle smile again, never seeing Cassian—even though he still makes menervous, his size and intensity still frighten me—something tight grips my chest. The thought of losing them makes it hard to breathe.

Which surprises me more than anything.

When did I start needing them?

Without August's steadying presence, everything feels different. But not scary. Just... incomplete.

Through the connecting door, I can hear movement. Low voices. The scent of alpha drifts through—sandalwood and wild fig, leather and caramel, honey and clove. Gunner, Hawk, and Dante. Still here. Still protecting me.

But no cedar and parchment. No August. And underneath it all, something else is missing—something darker, more intense that I can't quite place. Something that makes the air feel less complete.

"Daisy?" Gunner's voice comes through the door, soft and careful. "You awake?"

"Yes," I call back, though my voice sounds smaller than I want it to.

"We've got breakfast if you're hungry."

Breakfast. Such a normal thing. But nothing feels normal anymore.

I pad to the bathroom on bare feet, splash cool water on my face. In the mirror, I look different than I did a few days ago. My eyes are brighter. My skin has this glow that wasn't there before. Even my hair seems to catch the light differently.

Is this what freedom looks like?

Back in the bedroom, I pull off the thin cotton nightgown and reach for the clothes August brought me yesterday. A soft gray sweater and matching sweatpants. I've never worn anything like this before. The fabric is so soft against my skin, nothing like the structured dresses and silk I'm used to. When I pull the sweater over my head, it's like being wrapped in a warm hug.The sweatpants are just as comfortable, loose and cozy around my legs.

I run my hands down the sleeves, marveling at how something so simple can feel so good. How have I lived my whole life without knowing clothes could feel like this?

When I open the connecting door, I find them around the small table by the window. Three alphas trying really hard to look non-threatening. It's almost funny, except my pulse still flutters.

"Morning," Hawk says, and his smile chases away some of my nerves. "Hope you like coffee. Got you some with lots of cream and sugar."

The thoughtfulness makes my chest ache. When's the last time someone paid attention to how I might like my coffee?

"Thank you," I whisper, settling into the empty chair. The one positioned so I can see all of them, so no one's behind me. They thought of that too.

Gunner slides a plate toward me. Scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. Simple food, but it smells incredible.

"Eat," he says gently.

I take a bite, then another. The eggs are perfect, fluffy and warm. When I make a small sound of pleasure, Hawk grins.

"Good?"

"Really good." The words slip out before I can stop them. "I've never had eggs like this."

"What kind of eggs did you usually have?" Dante asks, his voice careful.

I think about the formal breakfasts at Uncle's mansion. Tiny portions on china plates. Everything measured and controlled.

"Egg whites," I say quietly. "Poached. No salt. To keep my figure."

The silence that follows is heavy.

"Fuck that," Hawk says, and there's an edge to his voice that makes my skin prickle. "You can eat whatever you want now."