Page 17 of Pack of Crooks

After she pickpocketed me this morning, I walked away feeling smug that I’d caught her, but then I got to the cafe and realized she had taken my wallet.

Naughty thief.

Out of all of the omegas who came to interview for our posting, how is it that she found it as well?

I run my finger along the spine of my book. It’s well worn. Some people keep books for aesthetics, whereas I keep them to consume. To lose myself in a world night after night when sleep evades me. This particular one is a paranormal romance with fated mates.

A laugh bursts out of me and the weight of Ezra’s and Maddox’s gazes lands on me. Of course. That’s what this has to be. The probability of me seeing the omega twice in one day in a city like this is slim, but something, maybe some supernatural force, brought us together again.

The universe has never been kind to me and my pack. Perhaps this is Fate’s way of atoning for the hell we’ve gone through. An apology.Sorry for the trauma, here’s an omega.

“What are you thinking?” Ezra asks. Sitting beside me, he’s been deeply focused on his laptop. The fan whirs, cooling the mechanics, and I glare at the computer as that mechanical smell tries to thread through my sunshine and strawberries.

“She’s meant to be ours.”

Sitting back, Ezra runs his palm over his five o’clock shadow. “She probably already has a pack.”

“No, my doubtful beta.” I brush my knuckles along the column of his throat before cupping the back of his neck and kneading. His eyes flutter closed, and I grin. Maddox releases his stress through patterns and movement. I bury mine deep, but Ezra? He holds all his tension in his neck and between his shoulder blades. “She doesn’t have a pack.”

“How do you know?” Ezra says, sighing in relief.

I see the moment hesitant hope fills his gaze. Ezra might be a loose cannon when it comes to our work, but when it comes to our pack, he’s cautious. I blame Tristan Mother Fucking Kain for that. In fact, I blame him for everything.

The nightmares that keep Maddox awake.

My insomnia, the inability to let my body relax.

The missing piece of Ezra’s soul that I’ve been fighting to reclaim.

We were all best friends before we became a pack. Met at our private elementary school and never separated. When Ezra’s mom and Tristan started dating, he seemed nice. Then he took us all on our firstboys’ trip.

There’s a special place in hell for those who attended those special auctions. And an even hotter circle of hell for those who did unspeakable things to us while Tristan watched, counting his money with each cry we made. Ezra, as a beta, became a target. We were all robbed of our innocence, but Ezra had it the worst.

There were five more trips before I convinced Ezra to move in with me. My parents were never home, and that alpha couldn’t hurt us if he couldn’t get to us. But by then, it was too late. The damage was done. We’ve spent years recovering, killing each and every one of those assholes, saving Tristan for the very last.

Jaw tight, rage on my beta’s behalf flooding through my veins, I take a breath, caging that familiar anger and saving it for another day when I can take it out on that fucking piece of shit.

“Kill?” Ezra asks, gaze searching.

I look away, protecting him from memories he doesn’t deserve to relive. “If she belonged to someone, she wouldn’t need to steal,” I say simply.

He frowns. “She might just enjoy it.”

“Maybe Ezra is right,” Maddox says, coming to a stop.

No. She’s not taken. She’s single. Most importantly. . . “She’s ours,” I insist. Our omega is smart and capable. She smells like heaven.

Maddox’s phone vibrates. He glances at it, grins like the devil, and marches to the foyer, waiting in front of the elevator. Ezra and I both turn to watch him.

“What is it?”

As the doors open to reveal the front desk attendant holding two paper bags from the grocery store around the corner, Maddox glances at us and lifts an eyebrow. “Strawberries.”

“Oh you’re so fucked,” I tell him, excitement coursing through me. Maddoxhatesstrawberries.

The elevator shuts, and he strides toward the kitchen. I jump over the back of the couch, and Ezra, far more reasonable, simply stands and walks around it, but we both join Maddox at the island. He takes out container after container of ripe, almost heart shaped fruit. Green leaves top the vibrant red strawberries.

I snatch a container and Maddox lunges for it, and while he’s distracted, Ezra grabs one for himself too.