Page 28 of Stalked By the Alphas

27

ZACH

I ignore the text from Noah as I haul some second-hand furniture into the house all on my fucking own while Carter is going off the plan with Hazel and has forbidden me to tell Noah. It’s easy for him to say that; he’s not the one shoving and lugging beds and sofas all over the place on his own.

“Arsehole,” I growl as I struggle with the double mattress up the steep stairs. “Absolute arsehole.”

Sweat drips down my back as I finally manoeuvre the mattress into place. Panting, I slump against the wall, glaring at my phone as it buzzes with another text from Noah. I know I need to respond soon, or he’ll get suspicious, but right now, I’m too pissed off and exhausted.

Carter’s sudden change of plans has thrown everything into chaos. I understand his reasoning, though. Seeing Hazel in person clearly affected him more than he anticipated, and I get that. He knows I get that, and that’s why he singled me out as the weakest link. Noah will not be happy about this. So now we’re scrambling to set up this house as if Carter’s been living here, all while keeping Noah in the dark. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

I head back downstairs, grimacing at the ache in my muscles. The living room is starting to look somewhat lived in, with mismatched furniture and a few hastily purchased knick-knacks scattered about. It’s not great, but it’ll have to do. The built-in fridge in the fairly modern kitchen has been switched on and has a few essentials in it. Bread. Tins. Plates, cups, cutlery... I’ve spent a fortune. Carter owes me big.

My phone buzzes again, and I finally give in, opening Noah’s messages.

Where the hell are you?

Carter’s not answering either. What’s going on?

Zach, I swear to god, if you don’t answer me in the next 5 minutes...

“Fuck,” I mutter, quickly typing out a response.

Sorry, been busy. Everything’s fine. Carter’s making contact with Hazel. I’ll fill you in later.

It’s not a total lie, but it’s far from the truth either.

Silence.

That is not good.

But I don’t have time to mess with this. There is more furniture to get off the hastily rented van and into this house in the next two hours, plus the bed needs to be made up and towels put out. And do not get me started on the fact that he explicitly said one bed .

I drag myself back outside to the van, cursing under my breath. The sun beats down mercilessly as I lift an end table and take it inside.

As I’m arranging the table in the lounge, I hear the distinct sound of a car pulling up outside. It’s too soon. Carter shouldn’t be back yet.

Noah storms into the house, his eyes narrow as he comes up short and takes in the furniture.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands, rounding on me. “Where’s Carter? And why does this place look like someone’s moving in?”

I swallow hard, knowing I’m caught. “Noah, I can explain...”

But even as the words leave my mouth, he holds up a hand. “Forget it,” he growls. “He’s changed the plan, hasn’t he? He has taken years’ worth of planning and work and flushed it down the crapper because Hazel looked up at him with those big green eyes, and he caved. Am I right?”

I sigh. “You know you are.”

He lets out a frustrated growl. “So why keep me in the dark? Why tell you and not me?”

“He thought you wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“And you are?”

“I’m more easily convinced,” I state bitterly.

His hard expression softens. “Need some help? He is an absolute arsehole for making you do this alone.”

“That’s what I said,” I mutter. “Yeah, can you make the bed up?”

“ Bed? As in one bed? ”

We exchange a knowing stare.

“He’s a prick,” Noah mutters but heads upstairs anyway.

I breathe out, knowing that it could’ve gone the exact opposite way than it did. Unless he is biding his time and not taking it out on the messenger? But that is not my problem. It’s Carter’s.

I head back out to the van, grabbing a couple of dining chairs and tucking them into place at the round table I’d already hauled in earlier.

“He’s really going all in, isn’t he?”

I shrug, not meeting Noah’s eyes as he joins me back downstairs. “Seems that way.”

He is quiet for a moment, then asks, “What exactly did he tell you about this change of plans?”

I hesitate, trying to decide how much to reveal. “Not much,” I admit. “Just that he didn’t want to go through with the plan anymore and that he was bringing her here.”

Noah snorts. “Didn’t want to go through with the plan anymore. Just like that.” He clicks his fingers.

I pause, weighing my words carefully. “I actually get it. Being with her during her heat affected all of us. Don’t deny it, Noah. I know you feel it as well. I think now with him talking to her, interacting with her, seeing her as our friend, our omega that we have always loved instead of someone who left us without a word five years ago has made him realise that we don’t need to do this. We don’t need to break her. ”

“No,” Noah agrees, to my surprise. “Because she is already broken.”

I bite the inside of my lip, feeling guilt and shame crash over me that Hazel was hurt so long ago, and we never knew about it. She never confided in us or let us help her through the pain. Everything we have ever done was for her, but maybe if we’d known about this abuse, we could’ve spared her some of the deeper trauma. But even as I think that, I know it’s not true. Her parents disliked us and made it known. They didn’t want Hazel hanging out with us. They had to go. I tighten my hand on the back of the chair, nearly snapping the cheap wood.

Noah’s words hang heavy in the air. I turn away, unable to meet his gaze. The guilt I’ve been suppressing for years threatens to choke me.

“We didn’t know,” I mutter, more to myself than to Noah. “If we had known...”

“Would it have changed anything?” Noah asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We did what we thought was best for her. For us.”

I shake my head, frustration building. “But look at her now, Noah. She’s falling apart. Is this really what’s best for her?”

Noah is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is measured, controlled. “It’s too late to change course now. We’re committed. Carter can change the plan, and that’s fine. Part of me expected this, but from you, not him. ”

The accusation isn’t malicious, just fact. I understand it and don’t get offended.

“So, you have a plan within a plan?” I venture, knowing my packmate all too well.

He grins. “When do I not?”

He turns on his heel, and moments later, I hear him lifting stuff out of the van, but inside, my guts are churning. I’m not sure I want to know what Noah has up his sleeve.