Page 72 of Pack Plus One

“Well,” I begin, searching for the right words, “if you change your mind, or if you need anything at all?—”

“I won’t,” she interrupts, but there’s a flash of something in her eyes—uncertainty? Fear? “But... thank you. And tell the others I’m not angry. We can try again. Just... after.”

The door starts to close, and I find myself wanting to stop it, to say something—anything—to change what’s about to happen. But I force myself to step back, to respect her choice, even if every instinct I have screams that it’s wrong.

“Take care of yourself, Leah,” I say softly.

The door clicks shut.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the plain wood, my thoughts racing. Something’s wrong. The way she held herself, the flush on her skin, that scent—sweet and ripe and edging towards desperate...

She’s not going to an omega center. She’s already too close to full heat. And she’s planning to suffer through it alone.

I’m fucking sure of it.

My throat goes dry. I reach for my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dial Mason’s number.

“How did it go?” he asks immediately.

“She’s in pre-heat,” I say without preamble. “Advanced stages.”

A sharp inhale. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. She tried to hide it, said she’s going to a center tomorrow, but?—”

“She won’t make it until tomorrow,” he finishes, his voice grim.

“No.”

“Where are you now?”

“Still outside her apartment.” I glance at her door, torn between respecting her boundaries and protecting her from what’s coming. “She said she’s not angry with us. That we can try again after her heat.”

“That’s... something,” Mason says cautiously. “But it doesn’t solve the immediate problem.”

“Which is?”

“She lives in an apartment building. Pretty sure it’s not just omega residents there. Once her heat hits fully?—”

“They’ll smell her,” I finish, my stomach churning with dread.

“Exactly,” Mason confirms.

“What do we do?”

“I’m getting Caleb and Jude. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. In the meantime, don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” I promise, already settling in against the wall opposite her door. “But Mason—we can’t force our way in. That would destroy any chance we have of making this right.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But we can’t leave her unprotected either.”

The call ends, and I sink down to sit on the floor, my back against the wall, eyes fixed on Leah’s door.

I pull out my phone again and open my browser. If we can’t help her directly, we can at least be prepared for what comes next.

“Heat care for unmated omegas,” I type, and begin to read as if my life depends on it.

Because hers might.