Page 72 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas

“That’s very sentimental,” Cassian said. “But also accurate. I feel similarly. My entire life has been transactional relationships. This is the first time I’ve had friends who want to spend time with me without expecting something in return.”

“Group hug?” I suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Cassian said immediately.

“Maybe later when we’re more bonded,” Hollis offered diplomatically.

“Never. We’re never doing a group hug.”

We finished our beers and ordered another round. Talked about easier things. Cassian’s consulting work. Hollis’s bookstore expansion plans. My idea for a new trail maintenance program that would create jobs while protecting wilderness areas.

Around nine, Hollis’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and smiled. “Talia. She wants to know if we killed each other yet.”

“Tell her we’re all alive and Cassian bought drinks like a gentleman,” I said.

Hollis typed back, and moments later all our phones buzzed with her response in the group chat:Glad you’re bonding. Also, Cassian, I heard about your bowling performance. We’ll work on that.

Cassian:There’s no shame in having areas for improvement.

Talia:There’s also no shame in admitting you threw seven gutter balls.

Jace:EIGHT. He threw eight gutter balls.

Cassian:I was establishing a baseline before implementing improvements.

Hollis:That’s a very diplomatic way to describe being terrible at bowling.

Talia:I love that you three are becoming friends. Also I’m stealing “establishing a baseline” for future use.

I looked at Hollis and Cassian, at the easy way we’d fallen into banter and genuine conversation. At how natural it felt to be part of something bigger than just individual relationships with Talia.

“We’re actually doing this,” I said. “Building a pack.”

“Apparently so,” Hollis agreed.

“It’s statistically improbable that this should work,” Cassian said. “Three alphas with completely different personalities and no prior connection beyond shared interest in one omega.”

“But itisworking,” I pointed out.

“It is.” He raised his beer. “To improbable success.”

“To pack,” Hollis added.

“To actually liking each other despite everything,” I finished.

We clinked glasses and drank to that. To friendship that shouldn’t work but did. To trust that was being earned rather than assumed. To building something unconventional because it felt right instead of because it made sense.

We stayed until closing, talking and laughing and occasionally giving each other shit in the way that meant genuine affection. When we finally headed out into the October night, I felt more settled than I had in weeks.

This was going to work. Not because it was easy or simple or what anyone expected. But because we were all choosing it, all willing to be uncomfortable and vulnerable and honest even when instinct said to compete.

“Same time next week?” I asked as we reached our cars.

“For bowling?” Cassian looked pained.

“For whatever. Bowling, hiking, sitting in a bar talking about feelings. Whatever feels right.”

“I’m in,” Hollis said.