The cold November air hits me as soon as I step outside the building. It's sharp and clean, carrying the scent of pine from the trees lining the street and that particular metallic promise ofsnow that's been hanging in the air for days. My breath comes out in visible puffs, and I realize I'm breathing too fast. Almost hyperventilating.
Okay. Breathe. Just breathe. You have a contract. You have an opportunity. You just need to solve one tiny problem: finding a pack in less than two weeks. Simple. Easy. Totally doable.
I make it to my car—a beat-up Honda Civic that's older than some of the high schoolers in town—and sink into the driver's seat. The interior smells like the vanilla air freshener I hang from the rearview mirror and the faint coffee stain on the passenger seat that I've been meaning to clean for three months.
I set the contract folder on the passenger seat carefully, like it's something precious. Because it is. This folder represents everything I've been working toward. Everything I've been dreaming about.
And all I need to make it real is a pack.
A pack. The thing I swore I'd never need again. The thing that nearly destroyed me last time. The thing that requires vulnerability and trust and opening myself up to the possibility of being hurt again.
I pull out my phone, staring at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
What do I even do? Post on social media? 'Looking for pack, must be available immediately, serious inquiries only'? That sounds insane. Like a Craigslist ad but for life partners.
Maybe an anonymous forum? I could post on one of those omega support sites. 'ISO pack in Oakridge Hollow area, looking for non-toxic Alphas who won't use my trauma against me and actually respect boundaries.' That's not desperate at all.
The thought makes me cringe so hard I actually groan out loud.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter to my empty car. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I'm going to post pack applications like I'm hiring for a job position. 'Wanted: Alpha pack members. Must be emotionally available, financially stable, and not a manipulative nightmare. Previous toxic behavior is disqualifying. References required.'"
It's a mockery. The whole thing is a mockery. Finding a pack should be natural, organic, something that happens over time through genuine connection. Not something you scramble to arrange in two weeks because a brand deal requires it.
But what choice do I have?
I can't let this opportunity slip away. I can't go back to barely scraping by, three jobs, ramen noodles, anxiety about rent. I can't let Kael win by proving I'll never amount to anything on my own.
I need this.
And if finding a pack in two weeks sounds impossible, well, I've done impossible things before. I left Kael. I built a life from nothing. I turned my chaos into content that people actually enjoy. I can do this too.
I just need to figure out how.
My phone buzzes. A text from Hazel:"Can you pick up a shift tomorrow? Mila called out sick and we're slammed. Will pay you in cinnamon rolls and love."
I smile despite everything.Yes, obviously. I'll take any shifts you need. Also, hypothetically, how does one find a pack in less than two weeks? Asking for a friend.
Her response is immediate:"WHAT. Call me RIGHT NOW."
Right. I should probably tell my friends about this. They'll either have brilliant advice or equally panic with me, and both options sound better than spiraling alone in my car.
But first, I need to at least start researching. I open my browser and start typing search terms that make me cringe even as I write them.
"How to find a pack quickly"
"Omega pack matching services"
"Speed dating for pack formation"
Is that even a thing? That can't be a thing. Please don't let that be a thing.
My phone buzzes again. Multiple texts from Hazel, escalating in concern and capital letters.
I take a deep breath, looking between my phone, the contract folder, and my search results that are somehow both helpful and deeply depressing.
"Okay," I say out loud to myself, to the universe, to whatever force is listening. "Let's try to figure this out because my freedom and future is on the line!"
CHAPTER 6
