Page 13 of Pack Plus One

If I hadn’t personally reviewed the PackPlus profile for the omega we were supposed to hire—brunette, blue-eyed, marketing executive with a penchant for designer perfumes—I might believe this charade myself.

Leah is either the world’s best actress or she genuinely thinks we’reherhired dates.

“Your ex keeps watching,” I murmur, noting how the groom’s gaze returns to our group every few minutes.

She cringes. “I’m sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Caleb shifts closer to her, and I catch a subtle rumble in his chest once more—protective alpha instincts kicking in. His eyes darken as they fix on the groom across the room, and for a moment, I worry he might actually start something.

I clear my throat slightly, catching his attention. When his eyes meet mine, I give him a subtle glare.What the fuck has gotten into you?

He nods almost imperceptibly, reining himself in. But his hand finds the small of Leah’s back again. She jerks slightly, surprised maybe, but she doesn’t move away.

Whether she realizes Caleb’s possessiveness is showing or not, I’m not sure.

Before our conversation can continue, an older omega in an aggressively floral dress approaches our group. The moment I spot her, I know she’s trouble. Her eyes are alight with curiosity.

“Leah, darling!” Her voice is as overwhelming as her perfume, thick and cloying. “Eric said you’d be here, but he didn’t mention you were bringing guests.”

Curious. The invitations specifically said ‘pack seating’ rules applied, and they didn’t think she was bringing guests?

Leah’s pulse jumps—I can see it at the base of her throat—but she manages a smile. “Eric’s…mom,” she says brightly, thoughthe smile is so tight it could snap. It’s the kind of smile that says she’d rather be anywhere else. “Yes, these are my... friends.”

The woman’s gaze sweeps over us, lingering on each of us with undisguised interest. The kind of interest that feels invasive, like she’s cataloging every detail for future gossip.

“And how did you all meet our Leah?” she asks with a smile that’s just a shade too sharp.

We all start talking at once:

Jude: “Coffee shop?—”

Liam: “Through work?—”

Caleb: “Mutual friend?—”

I cut in smoothly, my voice steady and calm. “All of the above, actually. Fate kept throwing us together until we got the hint.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s not entirely convinced. But before she can press further, Caleb steps forward.

“We’re a pack,” he says, voice carrying that quiet alpha authority that brooks no argument. “Le Roux.”

The woman blinks, visibly thrown. “Le Roux. Like the brewery?”

Caleb gives her a dashing smile, the kind that could charm even the most hardened critic. “The same.”

Leah’s lashes flutter as she blinks several times. I catch the exact moment it clicks for her—her whiskey-brown eyes widening, lips parting on a soft inhale.

Le Roux. The craft brewery that took the industry by storm last year. The one whose limited-release imperial stout had food bloggers fist-fighting in parking lots. The pack every omega in the city had whispered about at bonding mixers.

And she’d just spent twenty minutes letting them hand-feed her strawberries.

“Oh!” The woman’s eyes widen, and for the first time, she seems genuinely flustered. “Well, that’s… that’s something!” Sheblinks rapidly, her pasted-on smile faltering just a little. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Leah.”

Without waiting for a response, she floats away in a cloud of aggressive floral perfume, her curiosity likely already morphing into gossip.

The moment she’s gone, Leah lets out a breath so deep it’s like she’s been holding it for hours. For three full seconds, she just breathes, her white-knuckled grip on her clutch slowly loosening. Then— “Sorry about that. She’s a terrible gossip.”

“You handled her well,” I tell her, watching how her shoulders are still tense, like she’s bracing for another wave.