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“Proud of you, too,” Connor says, wiping his eyes on his shoulder. Worrying about Nate’s mental health has kept both of us up more nights than I can count. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the pack lead you need, especially after things went bad with Shelby. I didn’t realize you were both struggling so much and that’s on me.”

“Not is your responsibility, Con. We all need to make a better effort to connect.”

“And we will. We’re going to get back on track,” he promises, but there’s something off about the way he says it. Almost like he’s hiding something. Knowing Connor’s had enough feelings for one day, I don’t push. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

After one final squeeze, we all step back, and I feel a million times better. “How does movie night sound? I’ll order delivery and we can watch things explode.”

“Oh, let’s watch that racing series. I like bitching about how wrong they are.” Nate’s smile is faint, but it’s something. Connor and I grin at each other, knowing we’re going to be picking up popcorn out of the couch for a week because of his chaotic need to throw it at the screen.

“Sold.” I shove them both toward the kitchen and head for the living room to get things set up.

Hope lifts my heart. It’ll take time to repair things, but we’re bonded in every way but bites. If what we went through wasn’t enough to tear us apart, nothing will be. This is just the start of something new. A chance to change our future.

But, as excited as I am, I’ll never forget how close we came. How I had to grasp onto this family with my fingertips to keep us together.

And how close we came to falling apart.

Daphne,same day

I’m finally ready.

After learninglast nightthat my pack has an office-wide family picnic, I’ve been scrambling to prepare. My nail lady showed up at dawn to get me in before the rest of the house woke. I spent three freaking hours getting my hair perfectly tamed, the strands straight and glossy down my back the way my pack likes. For a moment, I mourn my curls, but the thought washes away fast.

It’s for the pack.Just like everything else I do.

My skin’s clear against the nude makeup and pale pink nails Jacob prefers, and the elegant blue velvet dress hugs my curves without being too clingy. Underneath, I’ve got on the deep red lingerie set Lance loves, though it’s not my favorite. All in the hopes that he’ll take it off later. It’s been ages since anyone’s touched.

The only concession I make to the event is in the shoes—wedges over the heels Corey prefers. I refuse to spend my day yanking my foot out of damp, grassy holes. Instead, I drape adelicate necklace he gave me last year over my neck, ignoring the unblemished flesh like I always do.

Mother was right about one thing. The more I practice shoving my feelings down, the easier it gets.

When I’ve done everything to make me look like the perfect omega, I suffocate in the cloud of descenter I still spray when I leave the house at my alphas’ request and head for the stairs. Yet, when I walk into the kitchen, they’re nowhere to be found.

“What the hell?”

My shoulders hunch reflexively, waiting for Jacob’s cold reprimand.

An omega is only vulgar to please her alphas.

The hum of the garage opening interrupts the house’s silence and my anxiety spikes. They’re leaving early. Phone and purse forgotten, I dash outside where Corey’s overpriced coupe is pulling out. “Wait!”

He glowers when I fly across the drive, stepping in the way before they can take off without me. The breeze steals the whir of the window lowering, but I feel it. When he sticks his hand out the window to wave me over impatiently, the sinking ache of their frustration buries itself in my stomach. Every step has my throat tightening, knowing they’re upset.

Leaning close, I struggle against the wave of their scents and the whine building in my throat. My alphas don’t smell right anymore.

I’m not sure when it started, but Corey’s bergamot is a touch too strong, making me sneeze, Lance’s spring scent feels damp, like flowers left to wilt in the vase, and Jacob’s lemon is so sharp it hurts my teeth. Everything I’ve read, every forum I’ve checked, says people’s scents change when your feelings do. That sometimes, by the end of a relationship, what once smelled divine turns to rot. Almost like a biological trigger to leave.

A part of me wonders if my alphas have neglected me so much that by the time I finally get out, their smells will sit like poison. That seems more of a possibility every day. Not because I want to leave, but we’re drifting apart—them versus me—and nothing I do seems to fix it.

“What is it, Daphne?” Corey asks. “We were on our way out.”

“I know. I thought I was coming with you. Besides, we had plans for date night later, right?”

Lance leans between the front seats with thataw shuckslook he’s so good at. “Sorry, babe. Plans changed. Didn’t you get the calendar notification?”

The guys put us on a shared calendar almost immediately after I moved in, but I don’t look at it much anymore. Seeing our cancelled plans makes me sad. The way I expect them to disregard me feels worse.

“My phone’s on the counter.” There’s an innate understanding of danger that humans have always had. As we evolved, it did too. Right now, it’s screaming at the frustration rolling off my pack lead.