Page 101 of Pack Baby for the Bratva
I grinned. “Brilliant. Perfect. How are you? The cafe?”
"We got a five-star review," she said before I could get a word in. "Five stars. From the food blog. The one with the terrible name."
"'Edinburgh Eats' is not a terrible name."
"It sounds like a venereal disease. But the review was glowing. They called the lavender latte 'transcendent.'"
"You don't make a lavender latte."
"I do now. I invented it. I am an innovator."
I laughed and it felt strange. Good-strange. The kind of laugh that didn't have to check over its shoulder.
"I'm not coming back," I said. It was a sad ending, but my life was here now.
Lena's face stilled. "I know."
"No, I mean—the option to buy the lease is real. The paperwork's been sitting on my desk for weeks and I haven't sent it because I thought—" I stopped. "I thought letting go of the café meant letting go of the person I built there. But that person's still me. She's just living in a house with too many chandeliers now."
Lena was quiet for a moment. "Are you happy?"
"Disgustingly."
"Then send the paperwork. And tell your terrifying husband that if he breaks your heart, I know people."
"You know baristas."
"Baristas have access to boiling water and a variety of sharp implements. Don't underestimate us."
A customer tapped the bell that sat on the counter, Lena made a face. “Sorry. Later.”
I hung up and sat in the lemon-scented sunlight for a long time. Letting go of the Highland Bean wasn't a loss. It was handing a chapter over properly, closing a door I no longer needed to hide behind. The café had been a sanctuary when I needed one. Now it was Lena's sanctuary. That was how sanctuaries worked. You found them and then they got passed on.
The next day, I called Presley.
This one was harder.
Not because I didn't want to talk to her. Because I'd spent the last year editing myself into safe shapes, and Presley was the one person who'd always been able to see the rough edges underneath. She'd known me in Ripon, when I was sleeping with a knife under my pillow and lying about my name. She'd known me when survival was the only thing I had room for.
Her face filled the screen, all sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes, and behind her I could see the familiar chaos that was Mr. Barney. His tail flicking past the camera, the stack of books on the kitchen counter, the fairy lights she had around the windows.
“Where are the kids?”
“Sleeping. I’m having a couple of hours of me time.”
“And your alphas?”
“Work. Well Etienne claims he is working but he keeps bringing me snacks. My temperature is rising and we’re going to add to the family with this one.”
I squealed. “Exiciting.”
"You look different," she said immediately. “Are you going into a heat?”
"Hello to you too."
Her head tilted to one side. "No, not a heat. You look less like you're about to bolt. It's unsettling to see you so relaxed."
"Because I found my pack." The words came out before I'd planned them.
