Page 35

I was expecting the Grizzlies' home to be big, but more like a penthouse bachelor pad, not a mansion emanating old wealth at every turn. And yet, somehow, it's comfortable. Inviting.

The dining room is as impressive as the rest of the house, with a large table that could easily seat twelve. It's been set for six, with simple but elegant place settings and several serving dishes already laid out.

"Wow," I say, genuinely impressed. "You guys went all out."

"It's the least we could do," Jax says, pulling out a chair for me. "After how we behaved at The Terrace."

I take the offered seat, Darren settling beside me. The others arrange themselves around the table with Jax at the head, Dmitri and Zayn across from us, and Aidan at the other end.

"Before we eat," Jax continues, his gray eyes meeting mine directly, "we owe you an apology. A real one."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I'd expected something perfunctory, maybe even reluctant, not this straightforward acknowledgment. Sorry isn't something the alphas I've known are eager to say.

Or the betas either, if I'm being honest.

"What happened at the restaurant was inexcusable," he says, each word measured and deliberate. "We were rude, disrespectful, and made you feel unwelcome. That's not who we are, or at least not who we strive to be."

"What the boy scout is trying to say is we fucked up," Zayn adds bluntly, earning a sharp look from Jax. "What? We did. No point sugar-coating it, it's not a press conference."

"He has a point," Dmitri interjects, his voice calm but firm. "Our behavior reflected poorly on us, both as individuals and as a pack. And it had nothing to do with you."

"It really didn't," Aidan agrees earnestly. "It was a... a pack thing. But that's no excuse."

I look around at their faces, searching for signs of insincerity or reluctance. But all I see is genuine regret, even from Zayn.

"I appreciate the apology," I say carefully. "But I'm still not entirely clear on what happened. One minute we were having dinner, and the next you all were gone."

The four exchange glances, some unspoken communication passing between them. It's Jax who finally speaks.

"It was a shock," he says, choosing his words with obvious care. "Meeting you. We weren't prepared for... for how well you and Darren seemed to connect."

I frown, not quite buying this explanation. "So you were what, jealous? Protective?"

"Not exactly," Dmitri says simply. "Before we met you, yes. But after… It is complicated."

"Pack dynamics often are," Zayn adds, leaning back in his chair with studied casualness. "Especially in this shitshow."

"I can understand that," I say, softening slightly. "Change is hard."

They exchange another look. Years of cooperation, pack intimacy, and yes, probably a lot of fighting, have created a connection that allows them to speak without words.

With automatic understanding. Just one of many things that have always made being a part of a pack look so damn appealing, even if fate clearly has other ideas for me.

"It's not about Darren's status," Jax says carefully. "At least, not this."

"Then what is it?" I ask, unable to mask the hurt in my voice entirely.

The four men exchange another loaded glance, and I feel my patience wearing thin. I already feel like an outsider.

Jax clears his throat, his gray eyes finding Darren's in what looks like a silent question. Darren gives a subtle nod, his hand finding mine under the table and squeezing gently.

"Lexie," Jax begins, "what happened at The Terrace wasn't about us not approving of you, or discomfort."

"Then what was it about?" I press, the memory of that humiliating evening still fresh. "Because from where I was sitting, it sure looked like four alphas who couldn't get away from me fast enough."

"It was the opposite, actually," Aidan blurts out, his cheeks flushing immediately. "We weren't trying to get away from you. We were... processing."

"Processing what?" I look between them, my confusion mounting.

Another silent exchange passes between them. This time, it's Dmitri who speaks, his voice low and deliberate.

"When we met you at restaurant," he says, those piercing blue eyes holding mine, "we all recognized something in you. Something unexpected."

I frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Your scent," Zayn says bluntly, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Pumpkin spice."

I blink, momentarily thrown by the non sequitur. "My... what?"

"You're our scent match," Jax says quietly, the words landing in the center of the table like a bomb.

The room goes silent. I stare at him, certain I've misheard.

"I'm your what?" My voice comes out higher than intended.

"Our scent match," Aidan repeats, his green eyes wide and earnest. "All of us. That's why we freaked out at the restaurant. It wasn't because we didn't want you there, it was because we were completely blindsided."

I look at each of their faces in turn, searching for signs that this is some elaborate joke. But all I see is sincerity, and a hint of vulnerability that seems out of place on these confident, powerful men.

"That's not possible," I say finally, shaking my head.

"Statistically improbable," Dmitri agrees with a small nod. "But not impossible."

How do I tell him I don't mean it's impossible for a beta to be their scent match, or for us to have connected through an app? I mean it's impossible for me. Things like this don't happen to me.

"It happened," Zayn adds as if somehow reading my thoughts, his dark eyes intense. "Trust me, none of us were expecting it either."

I turn to Darren, who's been suspiciously quiet throughout this revelation. "Did you know about this?"

The guilt that flashes across his face is answer enough.

"You knew," I say, unable to keep the hurt from my voice. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't know until after," he says quickly, his hand tightening around mine. "I swear, Lexie. They told me the day after we... after I came home from your place."

"But you've known for days," I press, pulling my hand from his. "And you didn't think to mention it before bringing me here?"

Darren flinches. "I wanted to, but I didn't know how. And I was afraid..."

"Afraid of what?"

"That you'd run," he admits, his blue eyes meeting mine with raw honesty. "That it would be too much, too fast. That you'd think I was only interested in you because of some biological quirk."

"Are you?" The question slips out before I can stop it, voicing the fear that's already taking root.

"No," Darren says firmly, no hesitation. "I was drawn to you before I knew anything about this. I can barely smell anything on these suppressants. But I still felt a pull toward you from the first moment we met."

"It's true," Aidan interjects, his expression earnest. "He was completely gone on you before any of us even met you."

"But it explains a lot," Darren continues, his voice softening. "Why I felt so comfortable with you so quickly. Why you smell so incredible to me, even through the suppressants, when I barely notice anyone else's scent."

"Like a pumpkin spiced latte you'd sell your soul for a single sip of," Aidan mumbles, smiling shyly when he catches me staring.

The comment startles a laugh out of me. "That's what you meant at the restaurant," I realize. "When you asked if I liked pumpkin spice?"

Aidan's cheeks flush again. "Yeah. Not my smoothest moment."

"None of us were exactly smooth that night," Zayn drawls, though there's a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. Considering the shock the others are looking at him with, I'm going to guess that isn't usual for him.

And I'm still trying to process all of this.

It's too much. Too impossible. Too... perfect.

"I'm just a beta," I say finally, voicing the doubt that's been circling in my mind.

The five men exchange confused glances.

"What does being beta have to do with anything?" Zayn asks, genuine puzzlement in his voice.

"Betas can absolutely be scent matches," Jax adds, his brow furrowing. "Designation doesn't determine compatibility."

"But..." I trail off, unsure how to articulate the lifetime of subtle messaging I've internalized.

The way betas are portrayed as the practical choice, the sensible option, but never the passionate, destined match.

The way I've been left behind, again and again, for the promise of something more intense, more "biologically right. "

"You think being a beta makes you less?" Darren asks softly, realization dawning in his eyes.

I shrug, uncomfortable with how exposed I suddenly feel. "It's always been the reason before. Why I wasn't enough."

"That's bullshit," Zayn says flatly, surprising me with his vehemence. "Complete and utter bullshit."

"He's right," Dmitri agrees, his accent thickening slightly with emotion. "Designation is just one aspect of a person. Not the defining characteristic."

"The people who made you feel that way were idiots," Aidan adds, his green eyes flashing with indignation. "Being a beta doesn't make you any less of a match."

"If anything," Jax says thoughtfully, "it makes more sense for our pack. We already have an omega," he nods toward Darren, "and four alphas. A beta brings balance."

I look around at their faces, searching for any hint of insincerity or condescension. But all I see is genuine confusion at the idea that I might consider myself somehow lesser because of my designation.

It's refreshing. And completely unexpected. My alpha exes always acted like I was supposed to be grateful for being chosen.

And the messed up part? I was.

"So you're all saying that I, a beta woman you just met who knits fucking sweaters, am somehow the perfect scent match for an entire pack of giant professional hockey players?" I clarify, still struggling to wrap my head around the concept.

"Biology likes to throw you for a loop sometimes," Zayn says with a smirk. "Can't fault its sense of humor."