Page 67 of Pack Plus One

“Of course she did,” Jude jumps in. “She’s wanted all of us from day one. We just need to?—”

“I’m right here!” I interrupt, my voice rising with frustration. “Stop talking about me like I’m not in the room!”

Four sets of eyes turn to me.

“We should be giving her space,” Caleb insists, addressing his packmates but hovering protectively near me. “We’re a lot to handle.”

“Space doesn’t solve anything,” Jude argues. “Right, Leah? We need to be present, to show you?—”

“There’s value in taking things slowly,” Liam interjects, his voice soft but firm. “Courtship is about honor and intention. It’s how we show we’re serious.”

“What we need,” Mason cuts in, “is to respect her autonomy while still making our intentions clear.”

Their voices overlap, their scents intensifying with emotion—dark chocolate, citrus, rain-soaked pages, and sandalwood all swirling around me in a dizzying cacophony. The room seems to shrink, their bodies suddenly too close, too overwhelming.

Jude reaches for my hand. “Leah, tell them I’m right?—”

Liam stands, gesturing to his napkin sketch. “If you’ll allow us to court you properly?—”

“Everyone needs to calm down,” Mason orders, his usually low voice raised.

Caleb’s growl vibrates through the air. “Back off, all of you!”

My pulse pounds in my ears. Their scents are everywhere, their voices too loud, their attention too intense. It’s all too much—four different men, four different approaches, all focused on me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

I slam my hands on the table, jostling glasses and plates. “That’s it!This is exactly why I didn’t want a pack!”

The words hang in the air, sharp as the broken glass still on the floor.

Caleb goes rigid, his entire body freezing mid-motion. Liam drops the napkin he’s holding, the paper floating slowly to the ground. Mason exhales sharply through his nose, the only evidence of his distress. Jude—for once—has nothing to say, his usual grin sliding off his face like melted wax.

Silence.

My voice, smaller now: “I just—I can’t do this. The chaos. The intensity. The... everything.”

No one moves. No one speaks. The only sound is the faint hiss of the ruined dessert cooling on the counter.

Caleb opens his mouth, then closes it, his expression shifting from shock to something harder, more controlled. His throat works as he swallows whatever he was about to say.

“I understand,” he finally manages, his voice a rough whisper. “We’ll go.”

Liam bends to retrieve his fallen spoon, setting it carefully on the table. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For all of it.”

Jude’s usual grin is nowhere to be found. “The dinner was great,” he offers, gesturing weakly at the half-eaten meal. “Really. Best disaster I’ve been part of in ages.”

Mason straightens his blazer. “We’ll see ourselves out,” he says, his calm voice betrayed by the tightness around his eyes. “Thank you for having us.”

They file out one by one. Caleb first, his expression locked down tight, not meeting my eyes. Liam next, pausing at the door to look back once, his shoulders hunched. Mason follows, his hand lingering on the doorframe. Jude is last, his usual energy dimmed to nothing.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, uncharacteristically serious, “none of us meant to overwhelm you.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

I sink onto the floor, surrounded by the wreckage—burnt dessert, wine-stained tablecloth, broken couch, forgotten gifts, and the lingering scent of four males who’ve made my heart beat faster than it ever has in years.

Fuck.

My phone buzzes.