Page 58 of Storm

The table falls into uncomfortable silence. I feel a surge of protectiveness toward Frankie, watching how he shrinks under the alphas scrutiny. He's been nothing but kind to me for four years, snuck me gum, played cards with me when no one else would. And now he's sitting here like he doesn't belong, when the alphas are the ones who dragged him into this mess.

"You know what?" I say, setting down my fork with a clatter that makes everyone look up. "If I'm supposed to be on my best behavior for your fathers, you all better start treating Frankie like an equal member of this pack."

Reed's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I say, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "You brought him in as your beta. He's part of this pack now, not some servant or afterthought. So start treating him like a person and not just a designation."

Frankie makes a small, choked sound beside me. "Storm, it's fine?—"

"It's not fine," I cut him off, turning to face the alphas. "He's sitting here looking terrified because you're all acting like he doesn't belong. But he does. You made sure of that when you dragged him into this mess."

Alexander's lips twitch, like he's suppressing a smile. "She's right," he says, surprising me by taking my side. "Pack is pack. All members equal."

"All members equal?" Reed scoffs. "That's not how pack dynamics work and you know it."

"Maybe it should be," I fire back. "Maybe if you all weren't so obsessed with who's an alpha and who's a beta and who's an omega, the world wouldn't be such a fucking disaster."

Jonathan watches me with an unreadable expression. "You have strong opinions for someone who's only been in a pack for a few days."

"Yeah, well, I've had twenty years of watching how this system treats people based on their designation. So excuse me if I'm not impressed with your hierarchical bullshit."

Frankie's scent shifts beside me, the toasted marshmallows and cinnamon taking on a sweeter edge that makes my omega instincts hum with approval. He's responding to my defense of him, his beta pheromones broadcasting appreciation in a way that makes my heart squeeze.

Without meaning to, I perfume in response, dark chocolate notes filling the air around us. The reaction is immediate—all three alphas tense, their nostrils flaring. Reed's hand pauses halfway to his mouth, and Jonathan's grip on his fork tightens enough that his knuckles turn white.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mutter, trying to control my scent and failing miserably. "Can we not make this weird?"

Reed clears his throat and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of pills, which he slides across the table to me. "Heat suppressants," he says, his voice rougher than usual. "As requested."

I stare at the bottle, then back at Reed. "Thanks. What about blockers?"

"You didn't say you needed them," Reed replies smoothly. "But I'll get them."

Jonathan looks confused. "When did she request suppressants?"

Reed and I lock eyes across the table, and I suddenly realize—it was him. He was the one watching through the camera this morning, not Jonathan. The knowledge makes heat creep up my neck, all those mornings I put on a show, thinking I was taunting Jonathan...Oh fuck. It really was Reed.

"This morning," I answer, looking away first. "When you two were out."

"I see," Jonathan says, though his tone suggests he doesn't see at all.

Alexander watches this exchange with interest, his gaze moving between me and Reed, a small smile playing at his lips. "Well, I think Storm makes an excellent point about pack dynamics," he says, smoothly changing the subject. "Frankie is one of us now. He should be treated accordingly."

Reed's eyes narrow at his pack mate. "And what exactly does that mean in practical terms, Alex?"

"It means," Alexander says, reaching for another spring roll, "that we stop treating him like he's invisible. We include him in conversations, decisions. We make him feel welcome." He turns to Frankie. "What do you think, Frankie? What would make you feel more like part of the pack?"

Frankie looks like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes wide as everyone's attention turns to him. "I... I don't know," he says uncertainly. "I'm just not used to—" he gestures vaguely at the table "—all of this."

"All of what?" Jonathan asks, his tone surprisingly gentle.

"Sitting at the same table," Frankie admits, looking down at his plate. "Being asked for my opinion. In the Omega House, betas eat in the staff room. We don't... socialize."

"Well, that's a load of crap," I declare, reaching for the beef and broccoli again. "We socialized all the time."

"That was different," Frankie says, a small smile appearing despite his nervousness. "That was just us."

"And now it's all of us," Alexander says firmly. "So, Frankie, tell us something about yourself that we don't know. Something not in your personnel file."