Their handshake is quick, firm—two alphas sizing each other up like it’s habit—before it pulls into a familiar, back-slapping hug.
Oli huffs out a quiet laugh. “I was worried you’d be pissed.”
“Nah.” Brock pulls back, eyebrows raised. “More shocked.” He laughs. “I cannot believe you’re mated.” His voice lowers, like he’s sharing a secret meant to be overheard. “But are you sure about Rhett? I’ve told you what kind of asshole he is. You could definitely do better.”
“What can I say? The old man grew on me.” Oli finally smiles, and I can practically see the worry leave his body.
Yeah. I definitely like Brock.
“Alright.” Brock claps his hands together as he turns to Rhett. “Where are these unfortunate omegas that are stuck with you?”
Rhett doesn’t move right away. He just looks at his brother, confusion lining his brow. “You’re acting weird. Is everything okay?”
Brock’s gaze flickers toward the couch, then he leans inand whispers, “It reeks of fear and rage in here.” He gives Rhett a pointed look. “If someone doesn’t cut the tension soon,I’mgoing to fall into distress.”
I shift, a little uncomfortable. He’s right. Everything inside me is still wound crazy tight. And it doesn’t help that the room is humming with a bizarre energy—suitcases, shuffling feet, and the low thrum of urgency hangs in the air.
Rhett nods, like he understands what Brock is saying. Then he steps forward, leading his brother and the tall blonde beta—Melissa—into the living room. The pack alpha’s expression softens when he looks at Charlie and me.
“Autry, Charlie,” Rhett says, voice quiet but proud. “This is my brother. Brock—my mates.”
Brock’s expression shifts immediately from a bit silly to serious. He straightens, shoulders back, then he offers a respectful nod. “It’s good to meet you both. Really. Rhett’s very lucky.” There’s no teasing in his tone now, just sincerity. Then he elbows Rhett’s side, and says, “They are fucking stunning, man. Truly beautiful.”
I smile, happy I could make Rhett proud.
But the second they all move back into the entryway, discussing luggage and logistics, Charlie leans into me and whispers, “That was odd. Right?”
I shrug. “Everyone loves to talk about omegas like we’re furniture. You’ll get used to it.”
Charlie snorts like it’s just one more thing, then he shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”
Thirty minutes later, we have a game plan.
Melissa noticed a police cruiser parked right outside our building when they came in, so they decide it’s best not to use Rhett’s SUV. Thankfully, Brock brought a van that can fit all of us and our luggage, but we’re packed in like sardines.
It also doesn’t help that it’s old, with no seats, and it smells like dusty crackers.
Oli’s shoulder is wedged tight against mine, and Myrick’s knee is pressed to my thigh. Rhett’s seated across from us, holding Charlie close, his big arms braced behind him like he’s trying to shield the omega from every sudden jolt or bump. Even Dolly’s curled up on the floorboards, panting lightly, ears perked.
Brock and Melissa are up front, calm as can be. Melissa drives like she’s out on a casual Sunday errand, and Brock leans one arm out the open window like this is a casual drive, despite the fact that it’s almost four o’clock in the morning.
“Everyone stay down,” Brock says over his shoulder. “Another cop passed us. They don’t look too interested, but let’s not tempt fate.”
We all instinctively sink a little lower, trying to shrink ourselves into the shadows of suitcases and tangled limbs. My breath sticks in my throat and my heart beats so hard I swear I can feel it pressing behind my eyes. Like it wants to punch its way out of my skull.
Myrick shifts beside me, pulling his arm free, then he gently takes my hand. His palm is cool and dry, a stark contrast to how clammy mine feels.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping no one is listening. The words scrape out of my throat like broken glass as the van rattles over another speed bump. “I’m just so, so sorry.”
The luggage stacked behind us shifts with the jolt, and Rhett lunges up, slamming a forearm against the top suitcase to keep it from falling on us. Oli quickly reaches up, helping to muscle everything back into place.
“It’s okay,” Myrick whispers, once it’s clear we won’t be crushed. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
I don’t understand why he’s not looking at me like I’m ruining his whole life. Because I am. But instead, he squeezes my hand tighter.
“Your shoes,” I murmur. “And your sweaters. You couldn’t even bring your?—”
“Fuck the shoes.” He cuts me off, voice fierce and low, eyes locked on mine. “You and Charlie are the only things that matter.” His eyes flicker to Dolly. “And my pup.”
