Page 20 of Pack Plus One

CALEB

The cancellation confirmation glows on my phone screen. Olivia from PackPlus, with her sensible shoes and even more sensible investment portfolio, is officially off the hook. A strange pang of something—guilt, maybe?—hits me, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the image of Leah, radiant in black, her laughter echoing in my ears. Professionalism be damned. There’s no way I can bring another omega to this wedding, not after the way I reacted to her last night.

“Did you just cancel our actual date?” Mason asks, appearing at my shoulder with uncanny timing.

I pocket my phone. “She wasn’t going to show anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push further. “And our mystery baker?”

“She’ll be here.” I sound more confident than I feel.

“You sure about that?” Jude calls from the bathroom, where he’s been fussing with his hair for twenty minutes. He and Liam know now, too. The omega we’d been enjoying the company of wasn’t the one we hired. “Because if she ghosts us, I’m going to convince the catering staff to replace the wedding cake with a giant cinnamon roll. In Leah’s honor, of course.”

“She’ll be here,” I repeat, cutting him off. The alternative isn’t something I want to consider.

Liam emerges from his room, adjusting his cufflinks. “Either way, we need to be there in thirty minutes.”

The drive to the venue is quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I catch Jude checking his reflection in his phone camera, Liam adjusting his cufflinks for what must be the twentieth time with the precision of a watchmaker, and Mason watching the passing scenery with his usual inscrutability. My own mind keeps replaying fragments from last night—the way Leah’s eyes widened when I growled at her ex, the subtle shift in her scent when I stood close to her.

It was just a performance. A convenient fiction. Nothing more.

So why can’t I stop thinking about her?

The wedding venue is... a lot. White roses everywhere, enough tulle to suffocate a small army, and a faint, cloying scent of Eric’s pack clinging to the air since, out of respect and custom, everyone else wore scent blockers. We find our seats—thankfully, normal chairs, not those ridiculous pew things—and I immediately feel Jude’s nervous energy buzzing beside me.

“Think she’ll actually show?” he mutters, adjusting his tie for the tenth time.

“She gave Caleb her number,” Liam reminds him, ever the voice of reason. But even he sounds a little strained.

Mason, quiet as always, scans the room, his gaze sharp and assessing. “She doesn’t owe us anything,” he says after a few moments.

I want to argue, but he’s right, of course. Last night was a performance, a mutually beneficial illusion. But still, the thought of her not showing up leaves a strange hollowness in my chest.

I check my phone again, debating whether to text her. We’ve already sent two messages—one confirming the time and location, and another letting her know where we’re seated.

She hasn’t responded to either.

The seats around us begin to fill with wedding guests in pastel dresses and tailored suits. The air grows thick despite the scent blockers—excitement, nervousness, expensive perfume. I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose.

And then, she arrives.

A vision in emerald green, her dress shimmering as she moves, her dark hair pulled back to reveal the elegant curve of her neck. The room, which had been a blur of dainty omegas and overly-coiffed alphas, suddenly snaps into focus. My breath hitches, and the possessive urge to shield her from the gazes of the other alphas in the room suddenly flares, hot and fierce.

Beside me, Jude makes a sound that’s half-sigh, half-groan. “Holy shit.”

For once, I agree with him completely.

Leah spots us and hesitates, uncertainty flashing across her face. Then she straightens her shoulders and makes her way toward our row, apologizing softly as she squeezes past other guests.

“You came,” I say, the words coming out more startled than I want.

“I said I would,” she replies, sliding into the seat beside me. I can almost catch a hint of her vanilla and cinnamon beneath the blockers, and I have to fight the urge to lean in closer.

“You look...” I begin, then falter when she meets my eyes. Beautiful seems inadequate. Stunning feels too obvious.

“Green,” Jude supplies helpfully from her other side. “Very green. Emerald. Verdant. Like a well-maintained hedge.”

Leah laughs, the tension breaking. “Thank you, I think? You clean up nice too.”