31. Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

B old

A sharp knock at the door startles me from my thoughts. Jazz fell asleep on the way home in the car even though it was barely after noon. She was so exhausted I carried her up to bed and curled up beside her, unwilling to let her out of my sight even here in the heart of wolven HQ.

My beautiful mate is still sleeping, her face peaceful and untroubled for the first time in days. I slip out of bed, careful not to wake her, and pad to the door, my senses on high alert.

Before opening the door, my eyebrows shoot up in surprise as I catch John Sinclair's scent. When I open the door, I notice his usually impeccable suit is slightly rumpled, his eyes tired but warm.

"What? My daughter had a near-death experience, and you didn't expect me to show up to give her a reassuring hug?" His tone is wry, but I can hear the underlying concern.

I step back, gesturing for him to enter. "Of course, come in. Jazz is still asleep, but I can wake her if—"

He waves off the offer, dropping onto the couch with a weary sigh. "Let her rest. From what she texted me, poor girl's been through enough." His gaze finds mine, and I'm struck by the depth of emotion there. "I wanted to thank you, Bold. For bringing her back to me. For keeping her safe."

I sit beside him, my throat tight. "I'd do anything for her, sir. Anything."

"I know you would, son." He claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing firmly. "And I'm damn grateful for it. You're a good male, Bold. The kind of male I always hoped Jazz would find."

He laughs and gives my shoulder a good shake. "And changing your last name to Sinclair? I—" He forces out a laugh, but I know what it's hiding—he's choked up at the gesture.

We lapse into a comfortable silence, the weight of his words settling warmly in my chest. This man accepts me. Trusts me with his daughter's heart. It's a gift I never expected, but one I'll cherish always.

A sudden commotion from downstairs shatters the moment. Raised voices, the thump of multiple feet. I'm standing in an instant, claws extending, a growl in my throat, ready for trouble.

John chuckles, waving me off. "Stand down, warrior. That'll be the pizzas I ordered for your little party. Figured your pack could use some fuel after the week you've had."

My jaw drops. "You ordered pizzas? Here? To the Zone?" No human delivery service has ever set foot in our little corner of the world. Too afraid, too prejudiced.

He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Money can buy almost anything, Bold. Even overcoming decades of bigotry, apparently."

We head downstairs to find the Warriors gathered around a tower of pizza boxes, elbowing each other to get first pick. The scent of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, making my stomach growl.

"Dig in, guys!" John calls out, and the pack descends on the food like, well, a pack of hungry wolves.

I sidle up to him, grinning. "This is amazing, thank you. But I hate to break it to you—twenty pizzas for a bunch of wolven? That's barely an appetizer."

He laughs, already pulling out his phone. "Good thing I've got the pizza joint on speed dial. You call your grandmother and siblings, I'll handle the rest."

And he does. Half an hour later, every surface is covered, and every belly is full. Grandmother arrives and my brothers and sisters, in ones and twos, straggle in, their eyes wide at the sight of so much food.

"Eat up," I tell them, handing out plates piled high. "There's plenty for everyone."

Jazz emerges from upstairs, sleep-rumpled and smiling, and immediately gets swept into a massive group hug. Her eyes find mine over Fang's shoulder, bright with joy and love.

"What's all this?" She laughs as my brother Forest shoves a slice of pizza into her hand.

"A little celebration," I tell her, pulling her close and nuzzling her cheek. "A welcome to the family, of sorts. Courtesy of Mr. John Sinclair."

"Dad, Fortunado's pizza?" She points her chin at a pile of boxes. "You must like these guys to let them in on the secret of the best pizza in the city."

"Only the best for family." His smile is wide as he nods, his gaze locking with mine. For a male with no blood family within a million miles, those words warm me to my marrow.

As if on cue, Stealth appears with a folded red shirt in his hands. He tosses it to Jazz with a wink.

"Speaking of welcome to the family," he says, "we figured it was time to make it official."

Jazz unfurls the shirt, her eyes widening at the sight of her name emblazoned beneath the Warriors' logo. "Is this…?"

"Your very own Warriors shirt, love." I kiss her temple, my heart full to bursting. "You're one of us now. In every way that matters."

She's a woman of many scents, but the one that bursts in my nostrils just might be my new favorite—the clean sunshine scent of pure, unadulterated happiness.

She clutches the shirt to her chest, her eyes shining. "I don't know what to say. Thank you, all of you."

The pack erupts into cheers and applause, tails wagging, fang-filled mouths chuffing, pizza forgotten. Amid the chaos, I lean down, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"There's one more thing," I murmur. "Warrior tradition. You need a pack name."

Her brow furrows. "A pack name?"

I nod, my gaze holding hers. "Nira," I say softly. "It means ‘strength' in wolven. Because that's what you are, Jazz. Brave, strong, a true warrior."

Tears spill down her cheeks, but her smile is radiant. "Nira," she repeats, testing the sound. "It's perfect. I love it."

"To Nira!" I raise my voice, and the pack takes up the chant. "To Nira!"

As the celebration swirls around us, I tuck Jazz into my side, marveling at the twists of fate that brought us here. I'm happy that bastard Wright is safely behind bars, but without him, we wouldn't be together. My mate, my love, surrounded by our families—both old and new.

It's more than I ever dared dream of. More than I knew I needed. And as I watch John clap Fang on the back, watch Grandmother press her forehead to Jazz's in the wolven way, watch my pack welcome their newest member with open arms and warm hearts, I know one bone-deep truth.

I'm home. We're home. And together, we can weather any storm.