Page 4 of Knotted By my Pack (North Coast Omegaverse #3)

JULIAN

Iwake up pissed off. The mattress is too soft, the air smells like mildew, and the ancient air-conditioning unit rattles like a dying engine. The room is a goddamn joke, just like everything else in this town.

I knew this was going to be a nightmare. Building a luxury resort here made sense on paper. Beachfront property. Undervalued real estate. A goldmine waiting to happen.

But actually staying in this dump of a motel for three days? Pure hell.

At this point, sleeping in my truck sounds more appealing than spending another night here. That thought reminds me—I need to deal with my car situation. No charging stations in this godforsaken place. I reach for my phone and call Brielle.

She picks up after the second ring, her voice syrupy sweet. “Boss. Missing me already?”

I knew sleeping with her was a mistake. It had been too easy, too convenient. Now every conversation drips with unspoken tension, flirtation she refuses to let go of.

“Not quite,” I say flatly. “I need you to handle something for me. There are no charging stations for the Rivian, and I’m not about to start pushing it down the road like a goddamn idiot. Get me something else.”

She hums, dragging it out like she enjoys making me wait. “Mmm. A big, strong Alpha like you, stuck in a town without power? Tragic.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Brielle.”

“Relax. I’ll have a rental arranged by tomorrow. Anything else?”

“Can I get the car earlier?”

“With the documentation I need to send, and to find a reliable company, I can promise that you will have a car by tomorrow morning.”

“Anything I need to deal with at the office?”

“Nothing urgent. Your father has been checking out some construction sites down at the bay, but that’s about it.”

My jaw tightens. Of course he is. “Let me know if anything changes.”

She sighs dramatically. “You could at least say goodbye properly.”

I hang up. This has to work.

So far, all I’ve managed is a walk-through of the docks and a handful of local businesses—most of them barely staying afloat. Charming, sure. Profitable? Not even close.

If I’m going to build the kind of resort this place desperately needs, I’ll need permits, zoning approvals, and a hell of a lot less resistance from the locals. That starts with the chief officer for Land, Housing and Physical Planning.

If I can get him on board, the rest will fall into place—and I can finally get the hell out of here.

I roll out of bed and into the bathroom, turning the shower on, expecting steaming water to wash away this miserable morning. Instead, ice-cold water blasts my skin.

Perfect.

I grit my teeth and endure it. I have stayed in five-star resorts around the world, have had entire hotel floors reserved just for me, and now I’m showering in water that probably came straight from a frozen lake.

By the time I dress and head downstairs, my irritation is a steady burn.

The inn’s manager, a man in his sixties, stands behind the counter flipping through an old magazine. He’s got a permanent slouch, thin graying hair, and a faded flannel stretched over a gut that speaks of too many beers and too little work. He barely looks up when I approach.

“When is the water getting fixed?”

He exhales through his nose, still reading. “Plumber’s on vacation. Could be a few days.”

I stare at him. “A few days?”

“Yup.”

My fingers twitch. The incompetence in this place is unreal. “Right. Good to know.”

I walk out before I say something that will get me banned from this joke of an establishment.

Coffee. I need coffee.

So far, everything I’ve had in this town has been borderline undrinkable.

Weak, watery, an insult to caffeine. Yesterday, though, I found out that a small flower shop, Haven’s Nook, serves coffee and tea.

It smelled better than the burnt sludge everywhere else, and the woman behind the counter caught my attention.

Chestnut hair. Pretty.

An Omega. One that carried the scent of Alphas.

Maybe she was taken. Maybe she just had them around often. Either way, she’s the most interesting person I’ve seen since I got here, and I needed coffee. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

The air is crisp as I walk through town, early morning light stretching long shadows across the pavement. Shops are just opening, and locals moving about at their usual leisurely pace.

I push open the door to Haven’s Nook. The bell above the door chimes as I walk in, and the warmth hits me instantly.

Floral, earthy, with the underlying scent of fresh-brewed coffee.

And there she is.

Behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, delicate fingers adjusting a bouquet of wildflowers in a glass vase.

I step forward, watching as she glances up and notices me. She studies me for a second, then quirks an eyebrow. “What was your name again?”

“Julian.”

She hums as she clears the flowers she has on the counter. I take a moment to glance around. Lilies, sunflowers, and roses in neat arrangements. Small potted plants on wooden shelves. The whole place is too charming for this town.

She wipes her hands on a towel and nods. “I’m Grace.”

“Well, Grace,” I say, stepping up to the counter, “I’ll take a coffee.”

Her lips curve slightly. “Just black, right?”

“Strong.”

She pours it without another word. Just as she slides the cup toward me, a voice comes from the back. Deep. Confident. A man steps out, his stride easy, like he belongs here. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with the relaxed posture of someone who has nothing to prove.

I don’t need to guess who he is. The scent on Grace tells me everything.

He crosses the space without hesitation and presses a kiss to her lips before saying, “Heading to the docks. I’ll see you for dinner?”

She nods, eyes warm. “Yeah, I’ll make something good.”

He turns toward me, gives a polite nod. “Morning.” Then he’s gone, the bell jingling in his wake.

Grace exhales. “Sorry. That’s my husband, Jake. He’s usually a lot nicer to out-of-towners, I promise, but he’s a bit stressed out with work.”

“Work?”

She looks almost shy as she says, “He’s the mayor of this town.”

So that’s the mayor? Huh. I wonder why he would end up married to a small-town florist, but I just bite my tongue. Omegas tend to make Alphas go crazy. Thanking the heavens that will never be me, I simply nod. He’s territorial and irrationally jealous. Makes sense.

“No worries,” I say, taking my coffee. “You are pretty. He has every right to be possessive.”

She laughs. “You have no idea.”

I lift a brow. “That bad?”

She leans on the counter, voice dropping slightly. “Let’s just say small-town Alphas do not take chances when they find what they want.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

She tilts her head. “You married?”

I scoff. “Not interested in the institution.”

She smirks. “Cynic.”

“Realist,” I counter.

She shakes her head like she disagrees but doesn’t press the point. Instead, she refocuses. “You looking for anything else while you are in town?”

“Yeah. A car rental place. Know of any?” I could wait for Brielle, but I need a car to move around.

She wipes her hands on a towel, thinking. “Closest one is on Harbor Street. Weston’s Rentals. Old man runs it, but he has decent cars.”

“Appreciate it.”

She nods as more customers file in, the slow hum of morning picking up pace. I slide a few bills across the counter and head out.

The car rental can wait. Time to meet the assistant mayor, who also is the chief officer for Land, Housing and Physical Planning. I just don’t get small towns.

The town hall is a squat brick building with a dated sign out front. Small, like everything else in this town. Inside, the walls are covered in old photos, framed certificates, and notices about community events. It smells faintly of paper and furniture polish.

At the front desk, a woman with glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a blouse one button away from respectable looks up. “Do you have an appointment?”

I set a fifty down on the counter. “Squeeze me in.”

Her lips press together, but she takes the bill, tucking it away before making a call. A few minutes later, she’s nodding toward the hallway. “This way.”

She leads me to a wood-paneled office where the assistant mayor sits behind a cluttered desk. He’s old but sturdy, with silver hair, thick hands, and the sharp eyes of someone who doesn’t miss much.

His suit is worn at the elbows, but the watch on his wrist says he knows the value of money.

He gestures to the chair across from him. “You must be the developer.”

“Julian Vance. Vance Real Estate.” I sit, adjusting my cuffs.

His gaze flicks to my watch, then my suit. I catch the subtle shift in posture. Respect. Wariness. I have his attention.

“I hear you’re looking to build something big.”

“A luxury resort. Beachfront villas. High-end retail. Think: Montauk meets Napa.” I pause, letting the image settle. “We’d be revitalizing the shoreline, creating jobs, and raising property values.”

He leans back, studying me. “Growth can be a good thing. As long as it benefits everyone.”

Translation: What’s in it for us?

I don’t smile, but my voice sounds warmer. “Of course. We’ll employ local contractors and vendors. Ten percent of units will be reserved for residents at cost. And there will be a tourism fund paid out annually to support town services, schools, infrastructure—whatever you need.”

That gets him. His fingers still on the desk.

“And the tax revenue,” I add, “is projected to triple within the first two years.”

“Sounds impressive. On paper.”

I nod. “Which is why I’m not asking you to take my word for it. I’m prepared to show you detailed projections, architectural renderings, and a full environmental impact study already underway. If it doesn’t serve the town, I don’t build. Simple as that.”

He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “We’re having a town hall this afternoon.”

“I heard.”

“If you want this to happen, that’s where it starts. Present your plans. Let people see the vision. If they push back, you’d better have answers.”

“I will.” I stand and extend my hand.

He takes it, grip firm. “This town is small. Slow to change. But get the people behind you, and you’ll be surprised how fast things move.”

I give him a nod. “I’m not here to make noise. I’m here to make history.”

As I step out into the sunlit street, one thing is clear: It doesn’t matter what it costs.

This resort is happening.