Page 3

Chapter three

LANCE

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, exhaling slow, dragging the moment out as if I can force something interesting to happen just by willing it into existence. Anything to break the monotony, anything to keep my mind from circling back to the thing I’ve been trying to ignore for months.

Sofie and Violet.

The thought alone is enough to drag my mood straight through the fucking dirt, yanking me back to the last time I had my hands on them, the last time their warmth had curled against mine like they belonged there.

The Omega and Beta duo working at Ash & Ivory have been the kind of distraction that gets under my skin, sticking to me long after I’ve left their presence. All soft curves and sharp tongues, two sides of the same coin, sweetness and bite tangled together in a way that’s been impossible to forget. I still remember the exact moment Violet caught me watching Sofie, how her lips had curved into that wicked little smirk, like she already knew exactly where things would end up. And she had been right.

One night, one invitation for drinks that turned into something else entirely. Sheets twisted around us, Sofie’s breathless little whimpers still burned into my memory, the way her wide eyes had flickered between hesitation and need. Violet had been a steady heat against me, guiding her, guiding us, her grip firm, her words just as sharp even as she unraveled beneath me. It happened again. And again. And then—nothing.

No calls. No messages. No hints of them waiting for me to find them again. The silence stretches on, each day chipping away at the patience I barely have to begin with. We weren’t a ‘thing’, there had been no discussion for permanence, and even if there had been, I’d have had to run it past my pack. There wouldn’t be any pushback, I’m sure, but it would have added to the strange dynamic we already have.

I glance at Hawk, silent beside me, eyes scanning the storefronts as the Jeep rolls to a slow stop near the gallery. He’s been watching me the entire drive, saying nothing, but that smirk playing at the corner of his mouth tells me everything I need to know. He doesn’t have to voice the thought—I can feel the amusement simmering beneath his skin, the barely restrained teasing he’s just waiting to unleash the second I give him an opening.

I swing the door open, albeit a little too roughly, and step out onto the pavement, stretching out my shoulders and shaking off the tension winding through my muscles. Hawk follows, leaning lazily against the Jeep, arms crossed, that same smug expression still plastered on his face.

“So,” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement, “you volunteering to come along today wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain cute little Omega at the front desk, would it?”

He’s never really met Sofie, not the way I have. I’ve always been the one dealing with Xavier and his sorry ass but today, our main Alpha—Puma—mentioned that Hawk should take the lead. Of course, I still offered to come and it was very much because of the beautiful Omega at the front desk. I shoot him a glare, already regretting that Puma gave him this task. “Fuck off.”

His shoulders shake with laughter, the kind that grates just enough to make me want to knock that smirk clean off his face. Staring at my own face, though, just makes it worse. Having a twin is all fun and games until it feels like my mirror image is laughing at me. Hawk shoves his hands into his pockets, falling into step beside me as we approach the gallery. “You’re not denying it.”

“There’s nothing to deny,” I mutter, adjusting the cuffs of my black button-up. “She is cute. And I don’t mind looking.” I want so much more than that, her pliant body beneath mine, those sweet little sounds as she arches into my touch, and the way her eyes glaze over as she comes. Sure, maybe they only called me so I could ease the ache of an Omega’s need but Sofie’s got me wrapped around her finger and she doesn’t even know it.

“Or touching,” he adds, his grin widening when I flip him off.

The conversation dies after that, but even in silence, there’s an unspoken understanding curling between us, something that neither of us needs to say aloud. Even as we step onto the sidewalk, my body pulls toward the gallery before my mind fully catches up, an instinctual alignment toward them, toward the thing I haven’t been able to shake since the last time I walked away. I tell myself it’s just curiosity, that it’s nothing more than lingering interest, but that’s a lie.

Violet’s fire has always drawn me in, a magnet pulling tight no matter how much space I try to put between us. Every sharp comment, every challenge thrown my way, every time she meets my stare without an ounce of hesitation—I crave it. And Sofie? Sofie is a different kind of want, the kind that settles deep, the kind that makes me want to ruin her in the best possible way while keeping the rest of the world from touching her.

And I know Hawk feels it too. He hasn’t mentioned Sofie or Violet but the few times I’ve brought them up in conversation or come back from a night with them, Hawk lingers. Because we never do things separately—not in the long run, anyway.

It’s been that way since we were kids, raised side by side, shaped into a seamless unit, two halves of the same whole. We learned early on that moving together was easier, that trusting each other above anyone else made things smoother. We share everything—money, business, our place, even our lovers. Whether it’s Gray, the youngest Alpha in our pack, or some pretty thing we pick up at a club, there’s never been a need for distance. No jealousy, no second-guessing. Just an unspoken understanding that what’s his is mine and what’s mine is his.

Which is why I’m not the least bit surprised when Hawk glances at me, brow lifted, curiosity flickering behind those eyes as we walk toward Ash & Ivory. “Those women must be pretty damn special,” he muses but I know him too well to miss the edge of amusement beneath it.

I know what he’s getting at. It’s rare—real rare—that I do something without him, that we both don’t sink our teeth into the same thing, the same person. But that night with Violet and Sofie? It just happened. A few times, but who’s counting?

“Nothing special,” I mutter, shrugging like it doesn’t mean anything. Like I haven’t thought about it more times than I can count. “It wasn’t planned or anything, it just… I don’t know. It felt natural.” I exhale, dragging a hand down my face, restless energy coiling tight beneath my skin. “You know what was nice about it? Not having to worry about someone wanting to be part of the Ashford pack.” The words come easy, even though I’m not sure they’re entirely true. “Those two? They just wanted to have a good time. No expectations, no strings, no bullshit. I’m not even sure they knew who I was.”

Hawk chuckles, rubbing his jaw, the corner of his mouth twitching up in something close to a smirk. “Bet you liked that.”

“Damn right I did.” A grin pulls at my lips. “And then Violet all but kicks me out in the morning.”

That gets him. “Damn, I already like her.”

“She is something,” I admit, rolling my shoulders, shaking off the phantom memory of her smirk, the way she looked at me like she already knew what I’d do before I did it. “Sofie too. Quiet, but sweet. I get why Violet keeps her close.”

Hawk nudges me with his elbow, eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe you’ll share the love one day.”

A short laugh leaves me, but I don’t respond, because maybe is a dangerous word. Maybe means thinking too much about those nights. Maybe means wanting another one and another after that. And I don’t do maybes.

The second we step inside Ash & Ivory, it feels like we’ve entered an entirely different world. The scent of varnish and aged canvas clings to the walls, mixing with two sweet scents that I’ve been craving for weeks. It lingers in the air, gently coating the space around us, almost as if this place is wholly theirs instead of Xavier’s.

My gaze falls on Sofie, the sweet little Omega peeking over the top of the front counter, wide hazel eyes locking onto us the second we step in. There’s a brief flicker of surprise, then her expression softens, her lips curving into the kind of smile that makes my chest go tight. She throws me an enthusiastic wave, her cheeks coloring.

Fuck, that does something to me.

I lift a hand in return, but the moment her scent shifts—blooms—it’s like a wire pulling taut beneath my skin. It’s stronger today, richer, something unmistakable curling at the edges of it and my gut clenches, my muscles locking up. I force my jaw to stay loose, my body to stay relaxed so that I don’t scare her. Even so, my cock thickens in my pants, the urge to reach down and adjust it while she’s watching growing with every second.

Hawk exhales beside me, a quiet grunt as he steps away without hesitation, disappearing into the deeper part of the gallery. He’s just as affected as I am, the bastard giving me a few minutes to make a fool of myself.

“Hey, Sofie,” I manage, stepping up to the counter. The color in her cheeks deepens as she unconsciously leans forward, searching for my touch. I can’t help but give in, gently caressing the side of her face. “You doing okay? You’re feeling a little hot, sweetheart.”

The name just slips out, Sofie offering me a small smile. “I’m okay. Promise.” She lets out a heavy sigh before pulling back, those hazel eyes still focused on my face. “It’s nice to see you. Violet is over there if you’re looking for something new. We just put up a few things.”

I can tell she’s lying, the sweetened edge to her scent signaling her nearing heat. I have no idea how they’re going to maneuver that and it’s none of my business but my instincts are yelling at me to swoop in and be there for Sofie. We’ve never entertained an Omega in heat, something that would start a serious discussion once we got back home. Once again, I’m thinking of a connection that just isn’t feasible.

I pat the counter once before letting my eyes wander over the displays of artwork. Some of it is the usual overpriced bullshit that inexperienced collectors eat up—predictable compositions, clean lines, empty statements dressed up as something profound. But some of it is real, vibrant strokes against muted backgrounds, figures distorted in a way that makes them feel more human than anything else. Pieces that look like they don’t quite belong, like they were meant for a different kind of place.

But my attention doesn’t stay on the artwork for long when I catch Violet adjusting one of the heavier frames on the wall. That fierce expression on her face reminds me of how amazing she is with Sofie, her protector, lover, and her entire world. Watching them together was always mesmerizing. Her short brown hair is pulled back in a mini ponytail on top of her head, her sleeves rolled up as she lets out a little grunt of frustration.

She pulls back, curls her hands into fists and shakes them at the painting before trying to adjust it again. Hawk’s laughter comes up at my side, both of us watching the woman step back and clap her hands, satisfied with her work. Then she glances over at us, a smirk playing on her lips. "Fancy meeting you here, Lance," she muses, arching a brow. It always feels so fucking good that they can tell us apart. Never once has she mistaken us for each other.

I return the smirk, shifting my weight lazily onto one foot. "Guess you’re just lucky."

She huffs a quiet laugh before turning fully to face me, arms crossing beneath her chest, her gaze steady and unbothered. "What can I do for you, Lance, Hawk? You were just in here last week for new material."

I tilt my head, dragging my gaze down and back up again, not ashamed in the slightest at cataloguing the way her clothes fit every last curve of hers. "I dunno," I say casually, "I kinda just like seeing you work."

Violet snorts, unimpressed. "Bullshit."

I grin. "Okay, mostly bullshit. But I do appreciate a woman who knows how to handle things."

She rolls her eyes, but her attention never strays, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting another smirk. "You flirting with me, Lance?"

"Wouldn’t dream of it," I say smoothly, even though we both know that’s a lie.

Her smirk lingers, but then her gaze flickers past us, shifting toward the front of the gallery, toward Sofie. She’s still at the desk, fingers fidgeting with the edge of an open ledger, her attention fixed on the pages but not really on them. There’s tension in the way she’s sitting, a sort of quiet restlessness that doesn’t match the bright warmth of how she greeted us earlier.

I don’t get long to dwell on it as Violet moves easily into the conversation, gesturing toward the newest collection with the kind of effortless confidence that makes it clear she knows her shit. “Most of these came in last week,” she says, stepping forward, falling into a rhythm. “Private sellers, some fresh from collectors who wanted to switch things up. A few from an estate sale upstate.”

My gaze drifts over the paintings, taking in the variation, the different styles, the way some seem to fit Ash & Ivory’s usual aesthetic while others feel almost too refined for a place like this. Violet is always like this—vibrant, engaged, talking with just enough energy to make you feel like she actually gives a damn about the work. And maybe she does. Maybe this job is more than a paycheck, maybe she really believes in what she’s selling.

But she’s also fiercely protective of Sofie and that’s something I can’t ignore. Not many Betas are built that way, willing to put someone else before themselves and I admire that about her. Even if it makes her hard to read sometimes. She keeps talking, explaining the origins of a few more pieces, but I stop in front of one that sends shivers crawling down my spine. Not just because it’s famous. Because it shouldn’t be here.

The portrait is unmistakable, a dark aura, layers so thick with pigment it feels like the subject might shift beneath the weight of a stare. The artist—long dead—had been notorious for hoarding his own work, for refusing to let more than a handful of his pieces see the light of day. Most of them had ended up locked in private collections or secured in vaults where no one but the absurdly wealthy could get their hands on them. And yet, here it is.

Hawk hums, a near-silent sound that confirms he recognizes it too. There’s no fucking way that Xavier got his hands on a piece like this. I know he has connections but in this business, everyone knows everyone and there’s no damn way this is real. And if it is, I need to know what he did to get it because it couldn’t have been legal.

My fingers graze the edge of the frame, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the weight of the thing, close enough that I can almost hear the ghost of the artist’s brush against canvas. “This is an interesting piece for a place like Ash & Ivory to get their hands on,” I murmur, glancing at Violet.

She doesn’t react right away. Doesn’t perk up with that same enthusiasm she had when talking about the other works, doesn’t immediately launch into some spiel about its value or history.

She answers, sure. Tells me the name of the painting, the supposed details of how it got here, rattles off something about the previous owner. But her voice is different. Too even, too practiced, like she’s reading from a script instead of selling it. Something like this—something this rare—should have her practically buzzing, pushing it like it’s the crown jewel of the collection. A find like this doesn’t just appear in a small gallery. It should be headlining an auction, commanding a bidding war so absurd it makes headlines.

But she’s just… talking. Going through the motions. Answering because she has to, not because she wants to. Suspicion pricks at the edge of my thoughts, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I nod slowly, dragging my gaze over the piece one last time before saying, casually, “I’ll put in a bid.”

Her brows lift just slightly, and for a second—just a flicker—there’s something unsure in her expression. Then it’s gone, buried beneath that same smirk she always wears. “Big spender,” she teases.

I flash her a grin. “Always.”

Hawk doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my head, his silent what the fuck are you doing? pressing against the back of my skull. Violet takes down my information as I ignore my brother, waiting until we’re back in the car before acknowledging him.

“Why would you do that? That shit has to be a fake.”

“Because I want eyes on it. A bid will ensure I’m notified if someone else wants it as well. We both know it shouldn’t be at Ash & Ivory so I’m curious as to what Xavier is up to.” If it’s fake, we know that Xavier is just a greedy bastard. But if it’s real, I have questions. So. Many. Questions.

The rest of the drive back is tense, my mind wandering to Sofie’s impending heat. There’s no way Violet doesn’t know it’s just around the corner but my need to insert myself in their situation isn’t going away.

“Stop fucking thinking about it,” Hawk growls at me. “That’s not a road we can go down, not without the approval of Gray and Puma.”

I shake off the feeling, hoping I can forget it by dinner time. Unlikely. However, there’s a much bigger issue. Violet’s strained speech as she explained that painting worries me. I’ve dealt with enough sellers to know when something isn’t right. Desperate ones who will push anything for a quick buck, greedy ones who overvalue their stock, slick bastards who act like they’re doing you a favor by letting you spend a fortune. But reluctance? That’s rare. And that makes me curious.

The black gates swing open at our approach, sleek metal parting without hesitation, welcoming us home. The house itself is a mix of past and present—towering columns of old wealth wrapped in modern darkness, deep stone and reflective glass swallowing the night around it. It’s the kind of place that draws a reaction from everyone who sees it, whether that reaction is reverence or fear depends entirely on who’s standing at the gates.

Once inside, the scene that greets us is about as typical as it gets around here. Puma sits at the kitchen table, his gaze flicking over a stack of photographs, studying them with the same quiet intensity he gives everything. Gray is sprawled across his lap, legs draped carelessly over the chair, head tilted just enough to let Puma trail slow, absent-minded kisses along his jaw. The kind of contact that speaks of time, of ownership, of something settled.

They look almost like something out of a picture themselves, tattoos twisting up their arms—Puma’s speaking of a life well lived and Gray’s showing the torrent of chaos that always floods his mind.

Gray hums, holding up two pictures side by side. “Which one do you think works better as a centerpiece for the house I’m working on?”

Puma doesn’t answer right away, still focused on the slow drag of his lips against Gray’s skin, like he has all the time in the world. Hawk snorts, heading straight for the bar. “Are we interrupting?”

Gray smirks but doesn’t move. “Would it stop you?”

“Not even a little.” I drop into a chair across from them, stretching my legs out.

Puma lifts his gaze, dark eyes finding mine. We’re all Alphas but there’s a different aura Puma carries, almost like a presence that demands respect. He’s the head of our pack and our business, nearly ten years older than my thirty-seven years of life. The silver strands through his black hair speak of wisdom and knowledge I’ve only begun to curate. There’s also a mass of wealth his family built over a century, our pack reaping the benefits.

“How’d the visit go?” He asks, his voice rumbling through the room.

Gray shifts slightly, attention shifting between us, curiosity flickering across his features. “Yeah,” he adds. “Find anything good?” His tongue darts out to lick his lips, his nostrils flared no doubt at the two scents lightly coating us. I have a mind to grab him and bend him over the counter but that’ll have to wait.

I lean back, rolling my neck, exhaling slowly before answering. “Same shit, mostly. New art, new collectors, same overpriced bullshit. And yes, I know you sent Hawk to take point on this but he’s shit at talking to people. I’m the charming twin, remember?”

Hawk snorts from the bar, swirling a healthy serving of whatever whisky Puma bought recently. “Brother, you can be the charming one all you want. I’ll just keep doing what I do well.” He reaches down and grabs himself through his pants, stroking a few times as my face turns up in disgust. God, I don’t know why I’ve let myself suffer around him for this long.

Turning back to Puma, I bring up the painting I did buy. “One piece stood out for multiple reasons but the Beta selling it… she wasn’t into it. Didn’t push it, didn’t try to hype it up. Almost like she didn’t want me to buy it.”

Gray frowns, sitting up a little straighter. His mop of dark hair falling into his eyes. As the youngest and wildest of our pack, he is also the one that stands out the most. A mass of piercings littering his face as he chews on the ring through his bottom lip. “That’s weird. You always told me she knew her shit. I bet she’s snarky. Hey, Puma, I’m going to—”

Puma playfully slaps him across the head. “No. You’re doing just fine where you are. I don’t need you terrifying that poor Beta with what you like to call charm.”

Gray is wonderful with his clients, helping them decorate rooms in their houses. He can talk them into almost anything, getting them to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars without fail. However, he’s also a bit… blunt. And while I’m sure Violet could deal with his snark, not everyone can.

“I put a bid on it to figure out what’s wrong with it. It’s from some elusive collection that Xaiver shouldn’t have access to. It makes no sense that it was just sitting up there when there’s an event soon.” I mull over the many different avenues this can go. If no one bids on that shit, I’ll be taking home what I think is a forgery. Or someone else will buy it and then I can send Gray to help them position the artwork in their home.

Most everyone who buys something from Ash & Ivory ends up calling one of us for our input.

Puma hums, considering, his hand still absently tracing over Gray’s hip, his mind already pulling at the loose threads of the conversation. “You think Ash & Ivory is shady?” He asks like he doesn’t already know, like he doesn’t already have a mountain of information sitting in his office on the subject. While we’re out finding new art to drag into our collection, Puma is researching. Constantly looking at the bigger picture, the players, and everything in between.

The answer is immediate. “Yes but I didn’t think it was forgery level of shady.”

“Always have,” my brother adds as he plops into a seat beside me.

Gray glares at me, his nostrils still flared. I can’t be sure whose scent he’s reacting to, not that it matters. “Why would you keep going back then? This is the first time you’ve bought something in a few months. Well, bid .”

A grin pulls at my lips. “Because the Omega at the front makes it hard to hate the place.”

Gray’s gaze flicks between me and Hawk. He stretches slightly in Puma’s lap, dragging his fingers over the arm of the chair like he’s piecing something together, turning over the thought before giving it a voice. “The Omega, is that the same one that’s always there? The one you’ve had a few nights with?” I nod, a small smile playing on the younger Alpha’s lips. “She’s cute and no I wasn’t stalking, but Puma’s stopped through a time or two and I caught her rosy cheeks through the glass.”

Across from me, Puma’s expression barely changes, but I see it. The way his jaw tightens, just slightly. The subtle press of his fingers against Gray’s hip, the small moment where he forces himself to relax. Anyone else wouldn’t catch it. Most people wouldn’t even notice. But we do.

It’s no secret that our pack is different. We aren’t like the traditional ones, the ones that move in predictable patterns, bonded together in a way that fits into the expectations of everyone around them. We don’t follow the usual rules, don’t exist in the shape most people assume we should. We’re not all Alphas looking for an Omega to balance the pack, to fit into the empty space that tradition says we should be filling.

And Puma? He made it clear a long time ago that he will never take an Omega again. Not after his first one passed away. That wound still runs deep, an old scar buried beneath too much time, one that never really faded no matter how many years passed. I know that better than anyone. And for all her softness, all her quiet warmth, not even Sofie—with her sweet scent and those wide, curious eyes—could fill the space Puma refuses to let anyone else touch.

But despite everything, despite the distance he’s held between himself and the idea of claiming again, he’s always been clear about one thing—If we bring an Omega into the house, he won’t stop us. He won’t take them, won’t claim them as his own, but he will protect them with a pack bond. Nurture them. Keep them safe. Because that’s who he is. It always has been.

The moment passes, slipping back into the easy quiet that settles over us when we aren’t trying too hard to dig into things that don’t need to be said out loud. I roll my shoulders, stretching my arms out before flopping into a chair at the table, exhaling loud and exaggerated. “Alright, so—who’s cooking dinner?”

The silence lasts half a second before—

“Not it,” Gray says immediately, lifting both hands in surrender, completely unbothered.

“Not it,” Puma adds without hesitation, the corner of his mouth twitching.

A slow smirk pulls at my lips as I tilt my head toward my brother, who’s just sipping his whiskey. He sighs, the sound long and drawn out, already resigned before he mutters, “Guess I’m cooking because if I don’t, we’ll be having fucking pizza again.”

Gray grins, completely unapologetic. “And? Pizza’s a valid option.”

Puma chuckles, pressing a slow kiss against Gray’s temple, murmuring something against his skin that I don’t quite catch, something private between the two of them. I’m always a little jealous at how easy their relationship is with each other, reminding me just how much I want something of my own.

Hawk pushes to his feet, disappearing into the kitchen as I relax a little further, trying to avoid Puma’s gaze. But it’s like he knows where my head is at, my Alpha silently telling me that it’s okay to want and to have. I know I need to bring up Sofie seriously at some point and my intentions with her.

And then I realize that talking to Puma and Gray can’t be the first step. Violet is. In this strange, convoluted relationship—not the relationship that we have, but Violet is her protector and without her approval, I’m getting nowhere.