"BuĂochas," she murmurs, committing it to memory.
This is usually the part where he buttons up, gets his shirt, walks her home. She doesn't want to stand, she doesn't want to go. She doesn't want him gone.
"You're Pack now. My Pack." In some ways more than the others are. "No regrets?"
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This is usually the part where he buttons up, gets his shirt, walks her home. She doesn't want to stand, she doesn't want to go. She doesn't want him gone.
"You're Pack now. My Pack." In some ways more than the others are. "No regrets?"