Page 14 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

Still, I’m not going to lower the tone and go into all of that. So, I shrug my shoulders and throw them both a grin that feels just a little too sharp.

“It’s just a fun way to spend my free time,” I say. “I’m not planning a wedding, or anything.”

“Like music to my ears,” Lex laughs, then raises her glass again. “Let’s try this again. To hot revenge, and even hotter alphas.”

Zara shoots her a look, then clinks her glass reluctantly. “To keeping your heart intact.”

I drink.

The plan is simple: Make them fall for me, and turn them against each other just enough to remind Wes how fragile his perfect little world really is. Show him what it feels like to lose control, to wonder; to want something he doesn’t get to keep.

Then, walk away before any of them get the chance to walk away from me.

Easy.

*

I’m halfway through a lukewarm coffee and rereading my intro paragraph for the seventh time when Rachel appears behind me.

“I want you to know,” she says dryly, her nails clicking against the back of my chair, “that my lips may have twitched at the part where you called him a ‘walking red flag with abs.’”

I jump, nearly launching my coffee across the desk. “Jesus, Rachel—can you not sneak up on me while I’m mid-existential spiral?”

She ignores me, spinning my chair slightly so she can peer at my screen. “It’s punchy. Bold. Borderline feral. I love it . My readers are going to eat it up like heat suppressants during peak season.”

I let out a breath, minimizing the draft. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Rachel raises a brow as she settles onto the edge of my desk, all silk blouse and silent judgment. “I’ve been gone for a few days, not a few decades. Catch me up.”

“That first date? The one you accepted on my behalf like a deranged dating app fairy godmother?” I gesture vaguely to my minimized tab. “It was a disaster.”

“What?! Why?”

“Only one of them showed up.”

She frowns. “Let me guess—the hot one.”

“The grumpy one,” I say flatly. “They’re all hot, remember? Anyway; my ex, Wes. He showed up solo and pretty much told me to stay the hell away from his pack.”

Rachel goes still. “He said that?”

“Not in those exact words,” I mutter. “But the vibe was clear. It was hostile with a side of pheromones.”

“What an asshole.” Her alpha scent spikes immediately, all sharp and protective. “So he hijacked the date, then tried to intimidate you into walking away.”

“Exactly.” I sip my coffee. “I mean, I didn’t listen, obviously. I met the others anyway, and I’ve already had a date with both of them, and they love me. But now I’m doing this with a whole new purpose.”

Rachel blinks once, tilts her head, and narrows her eyes like she’s waiting for the punchline. Then, slowly, her lips curve. “Tell me.”

“I’m getting revenge,” I say, lowering my voice like it’s state-level classified. “I’m dating both of them. Slowly. Strategically . And Wesley Knight is Losing. His. Mind .”

Rachel stares at me for a second—processing, recalibrating—then leans back with a soft whistle, eyebrows high.

Then the grin hits; wide, wicked, and utterly gleeful. She slaps her hand on the desk so hard my coffee sloshes.

“This is golden. ” Her eyes are practically glowing. “You’ve got drama. Pheromones. Betrayal. Pack politics— revenge dating? A new genre. I’ll trademark it.”

“This is a public service,” I say, my expression completely deadpan. “Operation: How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates is alive and thriving, with a whole new purpose.”

She taps a French-manicured finger to her chin. “You’re sure you’re okay holding the piece until the end? We could tease it. Build buzz.”

“No. I don’t want them catching a whiff of this. They’re not stupid. They’ve already done their research and read some of my other articles. Besides, Wes is suspicious enough as it is.”

“Alright,” Rachel nods. Her eyes narrow ever so slightly as she looks over at me. “Just… be careful,” she warns.

“I’m not catching feelings, if that’s what you’re implying,” I insist, having already practiced this conversation with Zara and Lex. “I’m just… spending time with very attractive alphas who treat me suspiciously well and occasionally send voice notes that make me need to lie down.”

Rachel narrows her eyes further. “That sounds exactly like how feelings start.”

“I’m immune,” I lie.

“And Wes?”

“Still a menace.”

She hums. “I get the feeling that you don’t hate him as much as you want to.”

“I do,” I insist. “I just also maybe fantasize about drop-kicking him and licking his throat. Which is… normal.”

Rachel raises both brows. “Normal for an omega in deep denial.”

I sigh. “Just let me finish the article before you psychoanalyze me.”

“Fine,” she says, already walking away. “But when you finally knot one of them, I expect a debrief.”

I groan. “Rachel—”

“I’m serious! I want diagrams . Positions. Yelp ratings.”

“I’m at work !”

“So am I!” she calls cheerfully over her shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I’m not living for this.”

I roll my eyes as she disappears into her office, but it’s fond. She keeps me on my toes, but I have to admit it: she’s a pretty cool boss.

I turn back to my laptop, stretch my fingers over the keyboard, and try to summon whatever brain cells survived that conversation. I’ve got a deadline. An article to finish. A plan to stick to.

And yet, instead of writing, my mind drifts—first to Jace’s hands on my waist, then to Cam’s stupidly sweet smile, and finally, maddeningly, to Wes.

His scent. His scowl. That vein in his neck that always pulses when he’s about to say something horrible in an attempt to further ruin my life.

I drag in a breath and crack my neck.

Focus .

No feelings. No attachments. Just good strategy, great content, and maybe one or two absolutely flawless orgasms.

Strictly professional.

…Mostly.