Page 104 of Pack Plus One

The memory hits me like a bucket of ice water. The four of us, sitting around the center table at some ungodly hour, discussing Leah and her future with us—Mason pointing out herindependence and wondering if she’d go back to her life, Liam commenting on how traditional pack dynamics typically center omegas in the home, my question about whether she’d see herself as being pitied, the uncertainty about whether she’d even want to stay with us.

“She completely misunderstood,” I say, horrified as the realization dawns. “She only heard part of the conversation and thought we were saying she doesn’t fit with us.”

“When what we were actually saying is that we don’t want to force her into a traditional omega role,” Mason adds, his expression pained. “That we need to respect her independence.”

“She thinks we’re rejecting her for not being some docile, traditional omega,” Liam says, his normally composed face showing rare distress. “When that’s exactly what none of us wants.”

Caleb’s scent floods the hallway with fury and something that smells dangerously close to heartbreak. “She thinks we were comparing her to ‘normal’ omegas and finding her lacking.”

I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “We were talking about how much we want her exactly as she is! How we don’t want her to change! How we’re willing to adapt our pack dynamic for her!”

“But she didn’t hear that part,” Mason says quietly. “She probably heard us discussing traditional dynamics, questioning if she’s ‘ours,’ and me talking about accepting who she is.”

“And then she bolted,” I conclude, the sinking feeling in my gut growing heavier. “Thinking we want some mythical perfect omega who doesn’t exist instead of her.”

Caleb’s expression darkens to something truly dangerous. “Her ex—Eric—he told her she wasn’t ‘pack material.’ That fucking bastard.”

“And she thought she heard us confirming it,” Liam says, the pieces falling into horrible place.

I stare at the three of them, incredulous. “Are we seriously standing here psychoanalyzing her when she’sout theresomewhere, thinking we rejected her? We need to find her!”

That spurs them into action. Caleb stalks toward the stairs, already pulling on his jacket. “Her apartment. Now.”

“I’ll drive,” Liam says, following close behind.

Mason holds out a protein bar to me as I pass him. “Eat. We might be at this a while.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re standing outside Leah’s apartment building, having broken several traffic laws to get here in record time. The morning air is still crisp, the sun barely clearing the horizon as we pile out of the SUV like a small army on a mission.

We burst into the lobby like we’re storming the Bastille. The elevator seems stuck on floor 6, not moving. We head toward the stairs as one unit.

“Let me,” I say, stopping Caleb before he can take the stairs three at a time. “If she is here, your alpha rage face is the last thing she needs to see first thing in the morning.”

He bristles, but steps back, recognizing the logic even if he hates it. “Fine. But if she doesn’t answer in thirty seconds, I’m breaking the door down.”

“That’s not going to be necessary,” Liam says calmly, though the tension around his eyes betrays his concern. “We’re going to handle this like rational adults.”

I snort. “Have you met us?”

We climb the three flights to Leah’s floor, Mason trailing slightly behind as he checks his phone for the hundredth time, as if she might have magically texted while we were in the stairwell. The hallway is quiet, most residents either still asleep or already gone for the day. It’s barely 8 AM, after all.

Leah’s apartment has a plain white door with a small brass peephole and a doormat that reads “Go Away.” Subtle, our omega.

I knock, keeping it light and friendly. “Leah? It’s Jude. And, uh, everyone else. We need to talk to you.”

Silence.

I try again, a bit louder. “Leah? Come on, doll. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Nothing.

Caleb steps forward, his patience clearly exhausted. His knock is more like a controlled battering ram. “Leah. Open the door. Now.”

Mason winces. “Maybe don’t lead with alpha commands?”

“She’s not responding to ‘please’ and ‘doll,’” Caleb growls. “Leah! We know you heard us last night. You misunderstood. Let us explain.”

Still nothing but silence from the other side of the door.