Cute, the gesture says.You think you matter.
Blaze's arm slides around my waist.
The motion is smooth, casual, like he does this all the time. His hand settles at the curve of my hip, warm through the fabric of my uniform, possessive in a way that makes my heart stutter.
"This is Seraphine," he says, and there's a challenge in his voice now—a dare for anyone to say something negative. "Our pack's Omega. We finally found her."
Our pack's Omega.
We finally found her.
The words land like bombs.
I see them hit—watch the expressions change, watch the realization dawn, watch the jealousy curdle into something more complicated.
Because being claimed by one Alpha is enviable.
Being claimed byfour—by a pack, by this particular pack with their mysterious backgrounds and their undeniable presence—is something else entirely.
The Omega opens her mouth.
Closes it.
Opens it again.
"I... congratulations," she finally manages, and the word sounds like it's being dragged over broken glass. "How... nice for you."
Blaze's grip on my waist tightens slightly.
Protection.
Warning.
Mine.
"Thanks," I say, and I don't bother hiding my smirk. "We're very happy. Now if you'll excuse us—pack business."
I let Blaze guide me past them, feeling their eyes burn into my back as we walk away.
That was mean, part of me acknowledges.
They didn't deserve that.
But another part—the part that's been mocked and belittled and treated like garbage for three years—feels a savage satisfaction at the reversal.
How does it feel to be looked down on?
Not great, is it?
A giggle threatens to escape.
I swallow it down.
We walk in silence for a few steps, Blaze's arm still around my waist, the warmth of him pressed against my side.
"That was petty," he observes, but there's approval in his voice.
"She started it."
