Page 67 of Daisy

"And you became friends?" I ask, curious about this connection.

"Something like that," Dante says with a small smile. "We looked out for each other."

I want to ask more, but something in his tone suggests he's shared what he's comfortable sharing for now. Instead, I turn to look at Hawk again.

"Do you really know how to fix cars?"

"Baby, I can fix anything with an engine," Hawk says with that cocky grin. "Want me to teach you sometime?"

The idea of learning something practical, something useful, makes excitement flutter in my chest. "Really?"

"Really. Everyone should know how to change their own oil."

I've never changed oil. Never even thought about it. I don't even know how to drive—omegas aren't supposed to have licenses. But the way Hawk talks about it makes it sound like freedom.

"I don't even know how to drive," I admit quietly. "Omegas aren't allowed."

"Well, that's about to change too," Hawk says with that grin. "I'll teach you. Driving, car maintenance, all of it. Everyone should know how to take care of themselves."

The thought of learning to drive, of having that kind of independence, makes excitement flutter in my chest. When would we start? What would it feel like to control something that powerful?

I turn back to the movie, but my eyelids feel heavy. The warm safety of this room, their protective scents, the emotional weight of everything... it all pulls at me until I can't keep my eyes open anymore.

"Daisy?" Gunner's voice is gentle, pulling me from sleep. "Sweetheart, you hungry? It's past lunch time."

I blink awake to find myself curled against his side, Hawk grinning at me from across the room.

"We should probably order some food," Hawk adds with that familiar mischievous smile.

Food. Another choice.

"What kind of food?" I ask.

"Whatever you want," Dante says. "Pizza? Burgers? Chinese food?"

I've heard of most of those things but never actually eaten them, but something about the way Dante's eyes light up when he says "pizza" makes me curious.

"What's pizza like?"

"Cheesy. Messy. Completely delicious," Hawk grins. "And totally inappropriate for proper young ladies."

The mischief in his voice makes me want to try it immediately.

"Then I want pizza," I say, surprised by my own boldness.

"Good choice," Gunner rumbles against my ear, and the approval in his voice makes warmth spread through my chest.

Hawk pulls out his phone and starts rattling off options. Pepperoni, mushrooms, sausage, vegetables. So many choices. In the end, I let them order a variety, curious to try everything.

While we wait for delivery, I stay curled against Gunner's side. It should feel strange, being this close to an alpha. But it doesn't. It feels... right. Like coming home to a place I never knew I was looking for.

His hand strokes slowly up and down my arm, the gentle touch sending warmth through my entire body. I can't remember the last time someone touched me with such simple kindness. Uncle's touches were always possessive, controlling. The nannies were efficient but distant. But this... this feels like being cherished.

I turn into him slightly, my hand settling on his stomach through his black t-shirt. The firm muscle beneath the fabric makes my breath catch. His abs tighten under my palm, and he makes a soft sound—almost a rumble—that I feel more than hear.

I look up at him through my lashes, and for a moment he's still watching the TV. Then his green eyes find mine, and the intensity there makes my pulse skip. He's so beautiful in a rugged way—all sharp angles and quiet strength. There's a small scar cutting through his left eyebrow that I've noticed before but never really looked at.

Without thinking, I reach up and trace it gently with my fingertip. He goes completely still under my touch, his breathing growing shallow as he watches me explore. The scar is thin, silver against his tanned skin, and I wonder what caused it. What story does it tell?