Page 24 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

“You look like shit,” Jude announces when he arrives nineteen minutes later, Caleb and Mason flanking him like bodyguards with shopping bags in tow.

“Thanks,” I mutter, pushing myself to my feet. My legs have gone numb from sitting in one position too long. “Nice to see you too.”

Caleb’s nostrils flare as he scents the air, his pupils dilating instantly. “Fuck.”

“Exactly,” I agree, stepping between him and Leah’s door when he unconsciously moves toward it. “She’s further along than I initially thought.”

Mason frowns, concerned. “Has she made any noise? Called out?”

“Nothing,” I report. “But I heard the shower running for a while. And I think she might be nesting—there was a lot of movement at first, then quiet.”

Jude paces the hallway, his usual playful demeanor replaced with uncharacteristic focus. “This is bad. She can’t stay here unprotected.”

“We can’t force our way in either,” I remind him firmly.

“I know that,” he snaps, then immediately looks contrite. “Sorry. My instincts are... loud right now.”

“All of us,” Caleb agrees, his voice strained. He’s keeping his distance from the door, as if afraid his control might slip if he gets too close.

“So what’s the plan?” I ask, looking to Mason—always our voice of reason.

Mason runs a hand through his dark hair, thinking. “We take shifts. One of us stays in the hallway at all times. Not to intrude, but to keep other alphas away.”

“Is that enough?” Jude questions.

“It has to be,” I say firmly. “Until or unless she asks for more.”

Caleb nods, his expression grim. “I’ll take first watch.”

“No,” Mason and I say simultaneously.

Caleb’s eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“Because your control is already slipping,” Mason points out gently. “No offense, but your scent right now is... potent enough for me to catch.”

It’s true. The dark chocolate of Caleb’s scent has intensified to something richer, darker, heavy with alpha pheromones that would only exacerbate Leah’s condition if she sensed them.

“I’ll go first,” I volunteer. “Then Mason, then Jude. Caleb can take over once the worst has passed.”

Caleb looks like he wants to argue, but instead gives a curt nod. “Fine. But I’m staying close. In the building or nearby at least.”

“We all are,” Jude agrees. “I noticed a coffee shop across the street. Perfect surveillance spot.”

“This isn’t a military operation,” I sigh.

“It kind of is,” Mason points out with a small smile. “Operation: Protect Leah While Respecting Her Boundaries And Trying Not To Be Creepy About It.”

Despite the tension, I feel a laugh bubble up. “Not the catchiest code name.”

“I’ll work on it,” Jude promises, some of his usual humor returning.

Caleb hasn’t budged. His attention is fixed on Leah’s door, his posture rigid with restraint. “What if something goes wrong?” he asks quietly. “What if she needs help and can’t call for it?”

It’s the question we’re all avoiding. Omegas in heat can become disoriented, dehydrated, even dangerously feverish. Without a proper support system...

“I’ve been researching,” I say, pulling out my phone to show them the articles I’ve bookmarked. “Signs of heat distress, emergency interventions, proper hydration strategies.”

“Of course you have,” Jude murmurs, but there’s affection in his voice.

“We’ll know if something’s wrong,” I continue. “And if it does, we’ll deal with it then.”

“And in the meantime?” Caleb asks.

I settle back down against the wall. “In the meantime, we wait. We protect. We respect her choice.”

The elevator dings at the end of the hallway, and we all tense as heavy footsteps approach. A stocky man in his fifties rounds the corner, keys jangling at his belt, his expression darkening when he spots us.

“What’s going on here?” he demands, his voice carrying the authoritative edge of a beta who’s used to being in charge. The name badge on his jacket reads “Building Manager.”

“Just visiting a friend,” Jude offers with his most charming smile.

The manager’s nostrils flare—even with his dulled beta senses, he can probably detect the pheromones we’re all putting out. His eyes narrow. “All four of you? Camping in my hallway?”

“We’re concerned about our friend,” Mason explains smoothly, stepping forward. “She’s not feeling well.”

“Uh-huh.” The manager crosses his arms. “I’ve had three complaints about alphas loitering. You’re making the residents nervous.”

Caleb straightens to his full height, a low growl building in his chest. “ We’re not leaving her .”

The manager doesn’t back down, which I have to grudgingly respect. “This isn’t a hotel lobby, gentlemen. You can’t just set up camp here.”

“You don’t understand,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I understand plenty.” He taps his nose. “Been managing omega-friendly buildings for twenty years. I know what’s happening, and I know you boys think you’re helping, but this is still private property.”

Mason places a restraining hand on Caleb’s arm as his growl deepens. “We’re concerned for her safety,” Mason says, his tone reasonable. “The scent of an omega in heat can attract unwanted attention.”

“Which is why this building has scent-dampening technology in the ventilation system and security at the entrance,” the manager counters. “We’re equipped to handle this situation. What we’re not equipped for is four agitated alphas stinking up my hallway with territorial pheromones.”

“Beta,” Mason corrects mildly.

The manager waves a dismissive hand. “Three alphas and a beta, whatever. Point is, you need to clear out. You’re welcome to leave a note, or call her, or whatever modern courting rituals you kids do these days. But you can’t stay here.”

I glance at the others, seeing the conflict on their faces. We could refuse, could try to intimidate this man into letting us stay, but that would only make things worse, possibly bringing actual security or even police. The last thing Leah needs is that kind of drama outside her door.

“We understand,” I say finally, standing up. “But can we at least leave these supplies for her?” I gesture to the pile Jude assembled.

The manager’s expression softens slightly. “I’ll make sure she gets them.”

“And can we check on her?” Mason asks. “Just to be sure she’s okay?”

“One of you, once every few hours,” the manager concedes. “But no camping out. I’ll have to insist on that.”

Caleb looks like he’s about to argue, but a significant look from Mason silences him. “Fine,” he grits out.

“Thank you for understanding,” the manager says, his tone softening now that the confrontation has defused. “For what it’s worth, I do think it’s nice you boys care so much. Just try to care from a more appropriate distance, alright?”

We gather our things, leaving the supplies for Leah neatly stacked by her door.

“I don’t like this,” Caleb mutters as we head toward the elevator.

“Neither do I,” I admit. “But making a scene won’t help Leah.”

“So what’s the plan now?” Jude asks once we’re outside the building.

“We take shifts in the car,” Mason decides, practical as always. “One of us can check on her every few hours, like the manager said. The rest stay close, but not in the building.”

“I’ll take first car shift,” Caleb volunteers immediately.

“And I’ll take first check-in,” I add, already mentally calculating how to space out our rotations to provide maximum coverage without violating the manager’s rules.

“What if she needs us?” Jude asks, basically voicing all our concerns.

Mason pulls out his phone. “We call her. Text her. Let her know we’re nearby if she needs us, but respect her space if she doesn’t.”

“And if she doesn’t answer?” Caleb presses.

“Then we reassess,” Mason says firmly. “But we don’t panic, and we don’t break down her door unless we have genuine reason to believe she’s in danger.”

It’s a sensible plan, if not the one our instincts are screaming for. But that’s the thing about being in a pack—sometimes you have to override your individual desires for the greater good.

And right now, the greater good is respecting Leah’s choices, even if they terrify us.

Night falls. We establish a rotation: one in the building checking on Leah’s door, one in the car outside, two at the coffee shop across the street. Every two hours, we switch.

At 10 PM, during my second building check, I find the supplies gone from Leah’s doorstep. A good sign—she’s taken them in, which means she’s alert enough to recognize help when it’s offered.

I press my ear to the door, listening for any signs of distress, but hear only silence. After a moment’s hesitation, I slip a note under her door—just a simple message telling her we’re nearby if she needs anything.

“How is she?” Jude asks when I return to the car. It’s strange seeing him like this. His usual exuberance dampened by worry.

“Quiet,” I report. “She took the supplies in.”

He nods, relief flickering across his features. “That’s something.”

Midnight comes and goes. Mason returns from his check-in with nothing to report. Caleb paces outside the coffee shop until the manager threatens to call the police, at which point he relocates his brooding to the shadow of a nearby tree.

At 2 AM, it’s Jude’s turn.

“Bring her more water,” I suggest, handing him a fresh pack of bottles. “And maybe some of those protein bars from the gas station. Heat burns a lot of calories.”

“I know how heats work, professor,” he says, but takes the supplies without further complaint.

He returns fifteen minutes later, his expression troubled.

“What is it?” I ask immediately.

“Nothing,” he says, too quickly. “Everything’s fine.”

“Jude.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just... her scent is really strong now. Like, really strong. And I thought I heard her moving around in there. But when I knocked, she didn’t answer.”

Caleb straightens from his slouch against the car. “We need to check on her.”

“We’ve been checking on her,” Mason points out.

“No, we need to check on her,” Caleb insists. “Actually see her. Make sure she’s alright.”