Page 99 of Pack of Crooks

Melanie tries to keep her reaction in check, but when I carefully lift her off the ground, she sucks in a breath and pain radiates across her face. Anger wants to flood through me, but I hold it back, carrying the terrified omega to the bus while Jo leads the rest of them out of the building.

The alphas are as far away from the sidewalk as possible, alert for any cops or pedestrians, but it’s late enough that the street is deserted. A bus idles at the curb. As gently as I can, I help Melanie inside, sit her near the front, and get off before she is too overwhelmed by my presence. I go to my pack and watch Jo help the omegas on the bus, waiting with the one who didn’t want to join them.

Once all of the omegas are off to safety, we gather together. Jo’s shoulders slump and she leans into Lark. That same heaviness weighs on all of us.

“We’ll be seeing you?” Mac asks. Our packs generally don’t come together unless something like this happens.

“Hopefully not soon,” Kill says.

“Tell your omega I said hi,” Jo murmurs. “I’m ready to go home,” she confesses.

Our packs break apart. Mine is quiet as we head back to our SUV. Kill and Maddox walk on either side of me, but it feels like part of us is missing. My heart aches for Hazel.

Maddox must be thinking the same thing, because when we pull away from the curb, he heads toward her apartment. For Lottie’s sake, we won’t break in tonight, but even just being close to Hazel will help soothe us.

She can’t move in soon enough.

twenty-seven

HAZEL

The week between dinner with the guys and moving in with them is rough. Outside of Maddox’s visit, every minute spent in the dilapidated building makes me hate it even more. And then there’s work. Between rushing to meetings with Tristan, his increasingly bad mood, and not being able to have lunch with Vivian—yeah, work sucks.

It’s not forever,I remind myself.

KILL

Hey, gorgeous. We’re five minutes out.

“Lottie,” I call, smoothing my hair as I walk through the small apartment, checking and double checking drawers for anything we might’ve left behind.

My sister bursts out of the bathroom, grinning. Her hair is in a cute messy bun. “I had to brush my teeth,” she explains with a funny look. “Can’t let my bad breath run your pack off.”

I chuckle. “I think they’ll survive bad breath, it’s your aversion to putting your laundry in a basket that might make them think twice.”

“My room is my space,” she says solemnly. “It’s sacred.”

“Can you check that everything is taped up?”

She nods and brushes past me. I grab the last box and head to the small closet with accordion doors, chewing on my cheek as I drop to my knees. My nest. While it’s nothing special and definitely not fit for a pack, it’s worked for me. I carefully fold the shirts I stole from Pack Lennox and the one Maddox gifted to me and place them in the box, then do the same with the blankets and pillows. Nerves flutter in my gut and my lungs strain.

Nests are crucial for omegas in heat, but some have a special connection with theirs outside of that. For me, my nest is my anchor. A tiny little shelter from the world when it got to be too much, and when I managed to steal shirts from the pack, it became more than that. It became an obsession. Dismantling it feels wrong down to the tips of my toes.

I’ll have a new nest soon enough. Everything will be fine. Breathe, Hazel, breathe. Swallowing, I battle back a wave of anxiety that has me unsteady on my feet. I pinch my eyebrows together and shake my head.

Someone knocks.

I take a step, but the room tilts.

“Hazel?” Lottie’s voice is distorted but even still, I can hear the concern.

“Okay,” I say, trying another step.I’m okay. The floor careens toward my face. Oh fuck. I’m not okay.

“Is she okay?”

Why does Lottie sound so scared?

“She’s breathing. Her cheek might be bruised, but she’s okay,” Ezra assures her.