“It’s not a plan,” a low voice says from the corner.
We all turn to Dane. His jaw is clenched so tight I can practically hear his molars grinding. For a man who communicatesmostly in grunts and eyebrow raises, the sheer volume of his silence is deafening.
Tristan jerks his chin at him. “You’re doing that thing where you look like a Viking contemplating arson. Use your words, big guy.”
Dane’s pale blue eyes flick to me. “Sheforgother planner,” he says slowly, like each word is being dragged out of him with pliers. “Andher phone.”
Diego holds up the teal notebook like a peace offering. “We return it. With coffee. And…maybe those muffins Rett suggested?”
A muscle twitches in Dane’s jaw. “Or,” he says, in the same tone one might suggestor we could set the building on fire, “we go to her apartment. Now.”
Tristan snorts. “Ah, yes, the classic romance strategy: ‘Hello, person who fled my presence, here I am at your doorstep uninvited with my emotionally constipated brothers.’”
Dane doesn’t laugh. He just stares at the planner. “She’s on PackTrackr.” His voice drops to a growl. “And she’s obviously not thinking clearly. She’s vulnerable.”
Ah. There it is. His real fear.
He’s practically vibrating with the effort of stringing this many words together. “She’s… out there. Alone. With our…” He gestures vaguely at his own neck, as if the concept of claiming marks is too scandalous to say aloud.
I cross my arms. “So your solution is to… what? Camp outside her door like overgrown guard dogs?”
A beat. Then, “Yes,” as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world.
Diego hangs his head. “Dane.”
“It’s efficient,” Dane mumbles.
Diego shakes his head. “Hermano, you can’t ‘efficient’ your way into a woman’s heart.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples where the static is building. “Look. We’re going in circles. We scared her. If we show up enmasse, we’ll scare her more.” I take the planner, flipping to a page covered in Zoe’s neat handwriting and a doodle of a frowning cupcake. “This is a woman who likes to keep her life orderly, each item in its place. We need finesse.”
Tristan’s eyes narrow in concentration. “Diego, you said something about muffins?—”
“Tristan, no,” I cut in immediately.
“—and we should buy out the entire bakery and have them?—”
I glare at him. “Orwe could just bring her asinglecoffee and her planner like normal,non-obsessivepeople.”
Tristan looks genuinely disgusted. “Where’s the romance in that?”
“The romance,” I grit out, “is in not terrifying her further. We fuckingneedher.”
A beat of silence. Then Diego, ever the peacemaker, gently takes the planner and places it on the table. “One coffee. Her planner. A sincere apology. That’s our starting point.”
Dane exhales through his nose, which is basically his version of a scream. “When we first met,” he says, his voice stilling all of us, “everything was chaos. We were just four alphas trying to survive our first year without killing someone or getting kicked out.” He looks back at me, his eyes filled with a raw, painful vulnerability. “I swore then I’d always have your backs. That I’d keep our pack safe.” He shakes his head, a gesture of pure frustration. “I don’t know how to do that by sending muffins, Rett. I just don’t.”
The raw honesty of his confession deflates the last of the tension in the room.
I soften my own stance, my voice gentler. “I know. But we have to try.”
The static hums louder in my skull, but for the first time, it’s competing with a far more terrifying thought:
We know how to win. If a billionaire needs to move a priceless diamond, build a secret lair, or protect themselves from acorporate rival, they don’t call three different companies. They make one call. To Sterling Solutions. We’ve spent our entire lives mastering the art of the transaction. We know how to win. And, we know the rules for courting an omega.
But this? Wooing a beta? A woman who is completely immune to our usual bullshit, who demands authenticity, who can’t be swayed by a scent or a growl?
We are completely, utterly out of our depth.
