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Chapter Fifty

Lilianna

It was late morning when we made it back to the house.

I was still smiling from my night under the stars with Miles.

The memories replayed in my mind like a treasured film—the fireflies in the meadow, the way the flames had cast golden light across Miles's skin, the feeling of complete belonging as we'd lain together afterward, watching the stars wheel overhead until sleep claimed us both.

The morning had been just as perfect. I'd woken to the sound of birdsong and Miles's steady breathing, his arms still wrapped protectively around me.

We'd shared a simple breakfast of fresh fruit and pastries that Christopher had packed, then spent an hour exploring the property one last time before reluctantly packing up to return home.

Home. The word felt right now, settled comfortably in my chest where before it had always been hollow.

"What are you smiling about?" Miles asked as he pulled into the driveway, his hand reaching across the console to squeeze mine.

"Everything," I replied honestly, intertwining our fingers. "Last night, this morning, the way you shared something so precious with me. I keep thinking about the fireflies and how you looked at me when—" I broke off, heat rising in my cheeks at the memory.

Miles brought our joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. "When I was buried deep inside you under the stars?" he murmured, his voice low and intimate enough to make my breath catch.

"Miles," I whispered, glancing toward the house where I could see movement through the windows. "They'll see us."

"Let them," he said simply, but he released my hand to turn off the engine. "Though I suppose we should go in before Christopher starts worrying we were eaten by bears."

I laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in weeks.

"Do you have bears out there?" I asked, half-laughing as I stepped out of the car and into the warm, golden spill of late morning sunshine.

The gravel crunched under my boots, and I stretched my arms overhead with a contented sigh.

My muscles ached in a way that felt good—earned.

Miles rounded the car with a lazy grin and grabbed our bags from the backseat. “No, no bears. Mostly deer, foxes, the occasional raccoon with a superiority complex. But they tend to avoid loud, giggly campers.”

“I wasn’t giggling,” I said, raising a brow in faux indignation.

“You were absolutely giggling.” He bumped his shoulder against mine playfully as we made our way up the front steps.

I reached the front door and paused, turning to look at him.

He’d stopped just a step behind me, the sun catching in his hair, eyes squinting slightly in the light.

He was watching me again—the way he always did when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

Like I was something precious he wasn’t quite sure he deserved to keep.

“You look happy,” he said quietly, almost like he was afraid saying it too loud would break the spell.

“I am happy,” I replied, my hand resting on the doorknob. “I didn’t know I could feel like this. Like I’m allowed to just… exist. No masks. No pressure.”

Miles stepped forward, brushing a gentle kiss against my temple. His voice was warm against my skin. “You never needed permission, Lili. But I’ll keep reminding you until it sticks.”

My heart swelled, full and tender, and I gave him a grateful nod before pushing the door open.

The familiar scent enveloped us immediately, comforting and warm.

It smelled like baking and safety and the kind of mornings I never thought I’d have.

The house was alive with quiet movement—the faint clatter of dishes, the low hum of music from the sunroom, the comforting sound of a home with people in it.

My people.

My Alphas.

I barely stepped through the doorway before Christopher appeared from the hall, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder and flour dusting the front of his dark button-down. His sharp eyes scanned me, then Miles, and back again—assessing, always, but not unkind.

“You’re back,” he said, voice tinged with something that sounded like relief, even if he tried to mask it with nonchalance.

“We survived,” Miles replied with a grin, setting our bags down near the stairs. “No bears. No sprained ankles. Just some intense s’more debates and stargazing-induced revelations.”

Christopher’s gaze lingered on me, narrowing slightly. “How was it, really?”

I held his gaze and smiled, not bothering to hide the warm flush creeping up my cheeks. “It was… unforgettable.”

A knowing smile curved at the edge of his lips, but he didn’t press. “I figured. Come on, I made lemon scones and there’s a fresh pot of coffee. Julian’s been pacing the study like a man possessed—he’ll come out once he hears your voice.”

I laughed and followed him toward the kitchen, Miles close behind. The house, which had once felt too large, too perfect, now wrapped around me like a well-worn sweater. Comfortable. Lived in. Mine.

The kitchen was bathed in sunlight, a plate of scones sat on the island, still steaming, their sugary glaze catching the light. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air, curling into my chest and grounding me further in the moment.

“Sit,” Christopher said, already pulling down mugs. “Fuel up before Julian starts interrogating you.”

“I don’t interrogate,” came a voice from the doorway.

Julian leaned against the frame, his usual crisp suit replaced with soft gray slacks and a navy shirt that fit just a bit too well.

My mouth might have gone dry. He looked relaxed in a way I rarely saw—and the soft amusement lighting up his features when he looked at me made my breath catch.

“But,” he continued, “I am going to require a detailed itinerary. Preferably with timestamps.”

I grinned and slid onto the bench beside the table, accepting the mug of tea Christopher handed me. “Of the hike? Or of the emotional breakthroughs?”

“Both,” Julian said simply, crossing the room. He came to a stop in front of me, his hand reaching out like instinct. I met him halfway, rising to wrap my arms around his waist.

He held me tightly, pressing his cheek to the top of my head. “I missed you.”

“I was only gone a day,” I murmured into his chest, but I didn’t let go.

“But… I missed you too.” When he finally eased back, his eyes searched mine.

I let him see everything—the peace, the joy, the soft glow still humming through me from everything Miles and I had shared under the stars.

I watched his expression shift as he saw it, his usually sharp features softening.

“You look different,” he said softly. “Lighter . Freer.”

“That’s because I am,” I said, voice low and certain. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like I know who I am. And who I want to be.” Before Julian could respond, the sound of bare feet padding across the tile drew our attention.

Nicolaus. His dark red curls were tousled, a white t-shirt hanging loose over his lean frame. He looked like he’d just woken up from a nap—rumpled and unfairly attractive. His eyes flicked around the room until they landed on me. His entire expression shifted.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, walking toward me. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. My heart fluttered at the simple, tender gesture.

“Good morning,” I replied with a smile as he settled onto the bench across from me. And just like that, we were all there. The four of them, each so different, and each impossibly important. I looked at them one by one, warmth radiating through me. I felt grounded. Whole. Home.

I bit into a scone, the buttery crumble melting on my tongue, and glanced up to find all four of them watching me with varying degrees of amusement and heat.

“So…” I said, licking a bit of glaze from my thumb. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

Julian arched a brow. “You’re not too tired after your wilderness adventure?”

I gave him a pointed look. “Depends. Are you asking if I’m too tired for a long bath, a good book, and maybe…” I paused for dramatic effect, “some slow kisses before dinner?”

Miles nearly choked on his coffee. Julian’s lips twitched. Nicolaus’s brow shot up as his mouth curved in a slow, knowing smirk. And Christopher?

He stepped closer, leaned down until his lips were at my ear, and whispered, “I was hoping you’d say that. Because we’ve all been patient, Lili… but I’d really like my turn to finish what you started.”

My breath caught.

A delicious shiver danced down my spine. I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable—and matched by the matching flicker of desire I felt in myself.

I set my mug down carefully, never looking away, and murmured, “Then what are you waiting for?”

Christopher's eyes darkened, his pupils expanding until only a thin ring of gray remained. He straightened, his hand trailing along my shoulder as he did so.

"Patience," he murmured, but the word held promise rather than rebuke. "Finish your breakfast first."

Julian cleared his throat, his expression shifting to something more controlled as he took a seat at the table. "Before any... extracurricular activities, we should discuss what Mara sent over this morning."

I felt a flicker of tension return to my shoulders at the mention of our publicist. "What happened?"

"Nothing catastrophic," Nicolaus assured me, sliding his tablet across the table. "Your parents made another move, but it's weaker than their previous attempts."

I looked down at the screen to see a carefully worded statement from my mother, expressing "deep concern" about my "ongoing isolation" and suggesting that my recent behavior suggests someone who is not in control of her own decisions.

" I read the statement aloud, my voice growing steadier with each word.

"She's really doubling down on the incompetence angle, isn't she? "