Page 12 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

Aimee

I shut the door, click the lock, and immediately press my forehead to the wood.

God . What the hell was that?

Cam just kissed me. He kissed me, and I liked it. All night, he's been sweet, and nervous, and funny—

And definitely collateral damage.

I groan and push off the door, kicking off my heels and flopping dramatically onto the sofa.

My scent blockers are still holding strong, but my instincts are humming.

All this dating, the flirting, the proximity, the attention—it’s pushing everything closer to the edge.

Which, fine, whatever. It’s part of the plan. A plan that is still on track .

Mostly, anyway.

Sleeping with Jace wasn’t supposed to happen as fast as it did, but in my defense…

have you seen him ? It had been a while.

A long while. And I’d forgotten how good it could be—not just the heat and skin and the overwhelming orgasms, but the way he looked at me like I was already part of something. Like I belonged .

Still, it wasn’t part of the plan. A strategic lapse in underwear, maybe; but everything else is still technically within mission parameters.

I’ve made myself irresistible, which is practically self-defense when it comes to Wesley fucking Knight.

Objective one, achieved. And judging by the way he looked at me last time I saw him—tense jaw, clenched fists, eyes locked on me like I’d ruined his whole day by breathing—he’s one bad mood away from throwing himself through a glass window just to avoid inhaling my scent.

And then there’s Jace, who keeps sending me voice notes that are basically updates from my own unstable war front.

“He glared at my gym bag so hard I considered moving it into witness protection.” “Cam used the last of the oat milk and Wes threatened to bite him.” “Pretty sure he growled at the sink for five minutes straight.”

It’s good. Great. Perfect , even.

It’s working. Everything’s working.

He’s unraveling, and I’m winning.

…So why do I feel kind of guilty?

Deep down, I know why. It's because the more Wes spirals, the more I get what I wanted; and the more I get what I wanted, the harder it is to lie to myself about what I still want.

I can’t help it. Every time I’m near him, it hits: that signature alpha scent. It gets in my lungs and under my skin, making me bite down on my lip for no reason and remember things I shouldn’t.

I hate it. I hate how my stomach knots when he’s close, how my instincts lean toward him. Apparently, my body didn’t get the memo that we are at war.

It’s not fair. I should be immune to this.

I used to be immune to this.

My phone lights up, and I reach for it, accepting the welcome distraction that is my group chat.

Lex : Bitch WHERE have you been??? Zara : Are you alive, Aims?? Blink twice. Lex : Is he hot? Did you ruin him?? Zara : Update ASAP, or we’re filing a missing persons report.

I smile, thumbs tapping out a response:

Still alive. Not ruined yet. Working on it. Miss you both. Catch up soon??

They reply instantly.

Lex : YES. Tomorrow. No excuses. We need wine. Zara : And tarot. And fries. Lex : I’ll bring a taser, just in case one of your alpha boyfriends shows up.

God, I love them. And honestly, they’re right. I need the reminder of who I am, why I’m doing this, and how none of this is about falling for the wrong alpha. Again .

This is about me . About getting even, and showing Wes that I’m not some sweet little omega who waited around after he walked out. I built a life, I moved on, and now I’m going to dismantle his perfect little world, one date at a time.

Which means that it’s time to plan the next move.

I sit at my desk, switch on my laptop, and open a blank document.

How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates.

Step 1: Reappear like a heat-triggered fever dream.

Step 2: Start spending more time at the pack house—linger in doorways, sit in his favorite chair, leave just enough of your scent behind to make him feral.

Step 3: Seduce the gym rat with commitment issues until he can’t stop texting you voice notes and calling you “trouble.” Step 4: Make the golden retriever alpha fall a little bit in love by being sweet, soft, and just unattainable enough to keep him up at night.

Step 5: Blow off the next pack dinner with a casual “I’ve got plans” and let them all spiral.

Step 6: Post a story from your couch, wearing one of their hoodies with zero explanation.

Step 7: Make the whole pack question who’s actually in charge here.

Step 8: Make Wes question every decision he’s ever made—including letting you go.

Step 9: Walk away before it explodes. Before the bond claws back in. Step 10: …Try not to look back.

(Even if your whole body is already turning in that direction.)

Easy.

I drag a blanket over my lap, lean back on the couch, and stare up at the ceiling.

I’ve got this.

I just have to keep reminding myself of one simple truth: Wes Knight broke my heart, and now, it’s his turn. But maybe… after girls night. And definitely after I figure out what the hell Cam meant when he said he’d carry bodies or bags for me.

God help me. I think I might actually like these idiots.