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"It's a plan," I agree, though my eyes drift toward the door where the alpha disappeared despite my best efforts to ignore the lingering trace of his scent.

As the stranger's presence fades from the library, I force myself to focus on the practical aspects of our fake dating scheme. We'll need to coordinate our outfits, practice looking like a couple, maybe even come up with a believable story about how long we've been "together." The RSVP deadline is in three days, which gives us time to plan but not enough time to second-guess ourselves into panic.

"When do you think we should RSVP?" Adam asks, echoing my thoughts. "And more importantly, what are we going to wear to convince everyone we're madly in love?"

"We should probably RSVP tomorrow," I say, pulling out my phone to check the calendar. "That gives us time to coordinate but shows we're not desperate or last-minute about it."

"And for outfits?" Adam asks, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. "I have no idea what 'formal masquerade attire' even means."

"I might have some ideas," I admit, thinking about the fashion magazines I’ve been secretly studying ever since I dreamed of being invited to the ball when it first started. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened here—like a fairytale.

"There are some boutiques in the city that specialize in formal wear. We could go shopping together, make sure our looks complement each other."

The thought of shopping for formal wear with Adam, of choosing outfits that make us look like a real couple, sends a wave of excitement through me. I’m not saying we’re boring, but I can’t remember the last time we did something new.

"This is going to be either the best idea we've ever had," Adam says, scraping the last bit of chocolate from his plate, "or the thing that finally gets us both killed by social anxiety."

I laugh, but there's a hollow quality to the sound. Because I know that for me, the stakes are much higher than social anxiety. This plan has to work, because the alternative isn't an option I can survive.

Even if the part I keep buried under layers of suppressants and fear, wishes desperately that I could be brave enough to find out what it would feel like to be claimed by someone who could love all of me, including the omega parts I've learned to hide.

But Sarah's death taught me that some risks aren't worth taking, no matter how much your biology screams that they might be worth everything.

This fake dating plan is my best shot at experiencing the ball without losing myself, or my life.

Now I just have to pray that I can pull it off without destroying the most important relationship I have left.

8

THE WILLBROOK CHRONICLE

My Cherished Whisperers,

Lady Inkwell simplymustreport the most curious development! With a mere two days remaining before RSVP closes for this year's Masquerade Ball at Thornfield Palace, our very own Mr. Adam Chen and Miss Belle Hartwell have yet to respond to their golden invitations!

The golden box at the post office awaits their replies, darlings, yet these two recipients seem to be in no hurry whatsoever. One can only wonder what delicious drama is preventing such prompt correspondence.

Tick tock, my dears. Tick tock.

Yours in breathless anticipation,Lady Inkwell

P.S. - A little birdie whispers that someone has been seen lingering near the post office at rather... interesting hours. Could it be our reluctant recipients are finally ready to make their decision? Or perhaps someone else entirely is pulling the strings? This correspondent simply cannot wait to see what unfolds...

9

FELIX

Ipull my truck into the parking space behind the Willowbrook Public Library. Today's meeting is different from my usual projects. Instead of designing another soulless office complex or convincing wealthy clients not to destroy historical integrity, I'm here to help expand a community institution that actually matters. The library board has finally secured funding for an addition that will double their space, and they specifically requested Romano Designs because of our reputation for historically sensitive work.

The irony isn't lost on me that the same community that whispers about the "Beast Pack" is now paying us to improve their beloved library. But Marcus is right, it's better to let our work speak for itself than to waste energy on changing minds that are determined to stay closed.

I grab my portfolio and surveying equipment from the passenger seat, noting how the late afternoon light hits the building's facade at just the right angle to emphasize the depth and texture of the stonework. The original architect understood proportions, how to make stone and brick feel alive rather than simply functional. Whatever addition we design will need to honor that vision while serving modern needs.

The main entrance is heavy oak with brass hardware that's probably original to the building, and would cost a fortune to replicate today. As I push through the doors, the familiar scent of old books and wood polish washes over me, mixed with something else that makes my alpha senses sharpen with interest.

The interior is even more impressive than the exterior suggested. High coffered ceilings that create perfect acoustics for a reading environment, original hardwood floors with the kind of tight-grain patterns that only come from old-growth forests, and rows of mahogany shelving that create intimate reading nooks throughout the space.

It strikes me most how lived-in the space feels. This isn't a museum, but a working library where people clearly spend significant time. Worn spots on the floor mark the most popular pathways, certain chairs show the kind of gentle aging that comes from consistent use, and there's an overall sense of comfortable functionality that can't be faked.