Page 44 of Nesting With My Three Alphas (Hollow Haven #1)

"Mr. Vanderbilt," the judge continued, "your actions represent a pattern of behavior designed to terrorize and control another human being.

The court sentences you to two years in state prison, followed by three years of supervised probation.

You are also ordered to pay restitution for damages and to maintain the permanent restraining order already in place. "

Two years. Not a lifetime, but enough. Enough for me to build an unshakeable life, enough for Marcus to learn that actions had consequences, enough for justice to feel real.

And that's when Marcus finally lost it completely.

"Do you know who I am?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the courtroom walls as his lawyers tried to restrain him. "Do you know how much money I have? How much influence?"

The mask had finally come off. All that sophisticated charm, all that carefully cultivated image. Gone. What was left was exactly what I'd always suspected lay underneath. A spoiled man-child having a tantrum because the world wasn't arranging itself according to his wishes.

"I can buy this whole pathetic town!" Marcus continued, his face red with rage. "I can destroy all of you! You think some backwoods judge and a courthouse full of hillbillies can touch me?"

The judge's expression didn't change, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested Marcus had just made a serious tactical error.

"Mr. Vanderbilt," the judge said calmly, "your outburst has been noted for the record. Bailiff, please remove the defendant."

As the bailiff moved toward Marcus, something inside me shifted.

For two years, I'd been afraid of this man, had let his anger and threats shape my entire existence.

And now, watching him being dragged out of a courtroom while screaming about his money and influence, I realized something fundamental.

He was just a bully. He'd always been just a bully.

Bullies were scary when you were alone, when you believed their version of reality, when you thought you deserved their treatment. But surrounded by people who loved you, supported by a community that had your back, validated by a system that recognized wrong when it saw it?

Bullies were just sad, small people having tantrums.

I stood up in the gallery, my voice carrying clearly across the courtroom: "Your Honor, may I address the defendant?"

The judge looked surprised but nodded. "You may, Ms. Lennox."

I turned to face Marcus, who was still struggling against the bailiff's grip, his perfect composure completely shattered.

"You spent two years trying to convince me I was nothing without you," I said, my voice steady and clear. "That I was broken, unworthy, too much for anyone to love. But look at me now."

I gestured toward my pack, toward the gallery full of Hollow Haven residents who'd come to support me, toward the life I'd built from the ashes of what he'd tried to destroy.

"I have a family who chose me. A community that protects me. A career I'm building on my own terms. A life full of real love, not control disguised as care." I took a breath, feeling the weight of every word. "You have no power over me anymore. You never really did."

Marcus's struggles ceased for a moment, his eyes meeting mine across the courtroom. I saw something flicker there. Recognition, maybe, or the first dawning awareness that the world had moved on without him.

"The only thing you ever had was my fear," I continued. "And I'm not afraid of you anymore."

The bailiff resumed escorting Marcus out, but his fight had gone out of him. He looked smaller somehow, diminished by the loss of the fear that had given him power over me.

After he was gone, the courtroom erupted in quiet celebration. Chloe shook my hand, the judge commended my courage, and various Hollow Haven residents came forward to congratulate me on what everyone seemed to understand was more than just a legal victory.

It was a reclamation.

Outside the courthouse, my pack surrounded me with the kind of fierce protectiveness that had become my new normal.

Jonah's arm around my shoulders, Reed's hand on my back, Micah's fingers intertwined with mine.

All of them anchoring me to this new reality where I was valued and protected and loved.

"How do you feel?" Micah asked as we walked toward the parking lot.

I considered the question seriously. How did I feel? Relieved, certainly. Vindicated. Proud of myself in a way I'd forgotten was possible.

But mostly, I felt free.

"Like I can finally stop looking over my shoulder," I said. "Like the past is actually past now, instead of something that might come back to destroy what we've built."

"He can't touch you anymore," Reed said with quiet certainty. "Legally, financially, physically. We've made sure of that."

"And even if he tries," Jonah added, "he'll have to go through all of us."

All of us. Not just my three alphas, but the entire community that had rallied around me today.

Sheriff Rowe, who'd testified with professional precision.

Mrs. Carrington, who'd described Marcus's intimidation attempts with withering disapproval.

The dozen other Hollow Haven residents who'd taken time off work to sit in a courthouse gallery just to show their support.

Pack. Not just the four of us, but the whole town.

"I want to go home," I said, the word carrying all the weight of everything it meant now.

"I want to hug Charlie and tell her that the bad man from our old life can't hurt us anymore.

I want to cook dinner in our kitchen and work in my studio and sleep in our nest without any shadows from the past."

"Then let's go home," Micah said simply.

The drive back to Hollow Haven felt different somehow. Lighter. The mountains looked the same, the trees were still turning their autumn colors, the familiar landmarks of our small town appeared right on schedule.

But I was different. We were different.

For the first time since I'd arrived in Hollow Haven eight months ago, I wasn't running from anything. I was just living, just moving forward, just building the life I'd chosen with the people I'd chosen to build it with.

Charlie was waiting on the front porch when we pulled into our driveway, her backpack dropped carelessly beside her and her face bright with the kind of anticipation that meant she'd been watching for our return.

"How did it go?" she asked before we'd even gotten out of the truck. "Did the bad man get in trouble? Are we safe now?"

"You were always safe, buttercup. No one's getting past your pops," Jonah said, scooping her up in a hug that spoke of relief and love and the fierce protectiveness of a father who'd do anything to keep his child secure. "But the judge made doubly sure of that."

"Good," Charlie said with the matter-of-fact acceptance of someone who'd never doubted that justice would prevail. "Can we have ice cream for dinner to celebrate?"

"I think we can manage ice cream," I said, laughing at the speed with which she'd moved from cosmic justice to practical concerns. "But maybe after some actual dinner."

"Deal," Charlie said, then looked at me with the serious expression she wore when she was processing something important. "Kit? Are you okay? You smell different. Not bad different, just... different."

She was right. I could feel it myself. The way my scent had shifted throughout the day, shedding the sharp notes of anxiety and old fear that had clung to me for months. What was left was purely me. Vanilla and honey and the confidence that came from knowing who I was and where I belonged.

"I'm more than okay," I told her. "I'm free."

That evening, after Charlie was asleep and the house was quiet, I found myself standing in my art studio looking at the canvas I'd started weeks ago. A family portrait of the five of us that I'd been too superstitious to finish while Marcus's trial was still pending.

Too afraid to claim this happiness completely while there was still a chance it could be taken away.

Now, with the guilty verdicts and a prison sentence between us and the past, I picked up my brush and began to paint.

Jonah's steady strength, Reed's protective mischief, Micah's gentle wisdom. Charlie's bright spirit that had helped heal all of us. And myself. Not as I'd been when I first arrived, broken and afraid, but as I was now. Whole, loved, home.

My three alphas found me there hours later, still painting by lamplight, adding details and depth to the vision of our family that I'd been afraid to complete.

"It's beautiful," Micah said softly, his arms coming around me from behind.

"It's us," I said simply. "All of us, exactly as we are."

"No shadows from the past," Reed observed, studying the canvas with the eye of someone who understood both art and emotional truth.

"No shadows," I agreed. "Just light, and love, and everything we've built together."

We stood there together in my studio, surrounded by the evidence of dreams made manifest, and I realized that this was what victory actually looked like. Not the courtroom drama or the guilty verdicts, though those mattered.

This. This quiet moment, this secure love, this unshakeable foundation we'd built together. This knowledge that whatever came next, we'd face it as a family.

Marcus was in prison, his power over me broken forever. But more importantly, I was home. Really, truly home. With the people who'd helped me remember who I was supposed to be.

And for the first time since I'd left Chicago, I was ready to start thinking about the future instead of just surviving the present.

Ready to start living instead of just existing.

Ready to bloom.