Page 6

"And if Theo's right?" Felix presses. "If she really is an omega, if she's ours?"

"Then we help her figure out what she is," Marcus says quietly. "And we give her the choice to be with us."

Through the window, Belle stands up to clean their table, moving as if she’s hiding her curves. I don’t get understand why someone as beautiful as her, doesn’t see who she really is. God,she's beautiful. The way she takes care of Adam, makes sure he has enough chocolate, tidies up their space. It makes my alpha purr with want.

"She's beautiful," Felix murmurs, and his voice goes soft with longing.

"She's perfect," I correct, feeling something warm and protective settle in my chest. The need to go in there, to claim her, to bring her home with us is almost overwhelming. "If she's ours."

“There’s only one way to find out," Marcus says, already starting to walk away. I can see the struggle in his face, the same one we're all feeling. "Come on. We need to make some plans."

4

THE WILLOWBROOK CHRONICLE

Dearest Scandalmongers,

Lady Inkwell is positivelyvibratingwith the most exquisite gossip about this year's Masquerade Ball invitations!

The golden envelopes have been distributed, darlings, and the guest list is absolutelyfascinating. What delicious irony that not one, buttworepresentatives from our humble little library should find themselves among the chosen! Mr. Adam Chen and Miss Belle Hartwell both somehow secured those impossible golden invitations. One can only imagine the irony that placed both of Willbrook's bookish souls on such an exclusive guest list.

But they're not alone in their good fortune. Young Claire Mitchell from the flower shop discovered her invitation tucked between the morning deliveries, while Dr. James Rodriguez found his waiting on his clinic desk after a particularly long shift. The Walsh twins, those charming mechanics who run the auto shop each received theirs on the same day, creating quite the stir about whether siblings count as separate entries in whatever mysterious selection process governs these things.

Most surprising of all? Emma Thompson, the quiet schoolteacher who rarely speaks above a whisper, found hergolden envelope slipped into her gradebook. Meanwhile, Jake Sullivan from the hardware store nearly threw his away, assuming it was another promotional flyer until his sister insisted he open it.

The common thread, darlings? Every single recipient is notoriously single and has been for quite some time. Whether this is coincidence or design remains deliciously unclear.

One can't help but wonder what very human forces are orchestrating this particular gathering of Willbrook's unattached residents.

Yours in delighted speculation,

Lady Inkwell

P.S. - Word has it that certain prominent local businesses have been making rather generous "anonymous" donations to the Thornfield restoration fund. How wonderfully civic minded of them!

5

MARCUS

"Lady Inkwell is at it again, spoiling all our fun," I snarl to Felix as I slap the article down on the granite countertop hard enough to make his coffee mug rattle. The gossip column that this mysterious Lady Inkwell of Willowbrook likes to circulate around town like she's some kind of gospel prophet.

"People talk. If she doesn't say who is invited to the ball, then no doubt someone in this town will," Felix replies. He doesn't even flinch at my aggressive gesture, because he's used to my moods by now.

I grunt, a sound that's more animal than human. "Yeah. Just a shame that they don't feel the need to talk to us directly. Cowards, the lot of them."

Theo, Felix, and I moved here five years ago after finding that life in the city had become too hectic and people were downright rude. We'd met at Northwestern University, we were three alphas from completely different backgrounds who somehow clicked during a particularly brutal economics seminar. Marcus Sterling, who studied business but fell in love with construction and now has more money than sense and a temper that could clear a lecture hall. Felix Romano, the quiet architecturestudent who could design buildings that made people weep with their beauty and had a spine of steel when pushed. And Theo Blackwood, the ROTC guy studying criminal justice who scared half the campus just by existing in the same space.

Three alphas who should have torn each other apart competing for dominance. Instead, we formed a pack that made other alphas nervous and omegas either run away or stare with fascination.

We tried. God, did we try. There was Jessica, the pre-med omega who was brilliant and beautiful but wanted a traditional alpha who would support her career, not three men who all had their own demanding jobs. She lasted two months before deciding we were "too much work." Then came Riley, who loved the idea of three alphas until she realized we actually expected her to bond with all of us, not just pick her favorite. She ghosted us after six weeks.

The worst was probably Hannah, the sweet English major who seemed perfect until she started trying to change us, wanting Marcus to be less aggressive, Felix to be more social, me to be less intense. When we wouldn't mold ourselves into her ideal men, she found an easier alpha to shape instead.

And then there was Emma Song, who fit us like she was made for our pack. Three months of the best relationship any of us had ever had, planning our future together, talking about where to live after graduation. She was heading to our apartment to tell us she was ready to complete the bond when a drunk driver ran a red light.

That's when we realized we couldn't stay in the city anymore. Too many memories, too many reminders of what we'd lost. So we packed up and moved to the middle of nowhere, to a small town where we could rebuild and maybe, someday, find what we'd lost.

"Speaking of talking," Theo says, his deep voice carrying the kind of authority that made him an effective interrogator in the military, "we need to discuss this year's final preparations. The caterers want confirmation on the menu by Thursday, and security needs the updated guest list."