ZOEEEE! I’ve been texting you for HOURS! The PackTrackr thing is INSANE! Are you OK? I’m coming over. Now. With reinforcements. Text me if you’re not dead or kidnapped.
Oh no. Leah. I completely forgot she’d be texting me. I type a quick reply.
Not dead or kidnapped. But yes, please come over. I need help.
Three dots appear immediately, followed by:
Leah
OMG YOU’RE ALIVE! Be there in 20. Caleb’s driving. I need DETAILS.
Great. Not only is my best friend coming over, but she’s bringing one of her alphas. Just what I need right now. Another alpha in my space while I’m still processing last night.
I gulp down more coffee and take a stress bite of the pastry. It’s obscenely good, melting on my tongue in a way that makes me close my eyes involuntarily.
But the moment of bliss is short-lived as annoyance surges back. Myplanner. They kept my damn planner. The little book that contains my entire professional life, and they’re “keeping it safe” like I’m some kind of disorganized child.
Twenty minutes. That’s all the time I have to somehow spin this catastrophic, life-altering, alpha-fueled dumpster fire into a believable, “no big deal” story for my best friend.
I check my reflection in the bedroom mirror, adjusting the scarf. It looks ridiculous. A bulky winter accessory with my tank top and leggings. But it covers the marks. That’s all that matters right now.
The doorbell rings exactly nineteen minutes later because Caleb has never been late a day in his life. I take a deep breath and open the door.
“You’re alive!” Leah launches herself at me, wrapping me in a tight hug that nearly dislodges my carefully arranged scarf. She pulls back, her eyes wide with concern and curiosity. “What the hell happened last night? I’ve been sending messages like crazy!”
She looks radiant. Her hair has grown out of the bob she’d cut it into, now falling in soft waves past her shoulders. There’s a glow about her that only comes from being thoroughly loved and claimed by not one, but three devoted alphas. And balanced out by their beta, Mason.
Behind her stands Caleb. Her pack alpha is tall. Imposing. His green eyes take in every detail of my apartment with the hypervigilance of an alpha protecting his own. He’s holding two car seats, one in each hand, containing the newest additions to their pack—twin girls with Leah’s hair and striking blue-green eyes that would make me crumble into oohs and ahhs if they weren’t sleeping right now.
“Are you going to let us in, or are we having this conversation in the hallway for Mrs. Grant’s entertainment?” Leah asks, one eyebrow raised.
I step back, allowing them into my apartment. Caleb nods at me as he passes, his nostrils flaring slightly. I know what he’s doing. Scenting me, picking up the traces of the Sterling pack that cling to my skin despite my best efforts.
His eyes narrow fractionally, but he doesn’t comment.Instead, he sets the car seats down carefully on my coffee table, making sure both babies are secure before straightening up.
“I’ll wait downstairs,” he says to Leah, his deep voice rumbling through the small space. “Take your time.”
Leah rolls her eyes affectionately. “You don’t have to go.”
“Yes,” he says, with a pointed look at me, “I do.” His eyes flick to my scarf, then back to my face. “Some conversations need privacy.”
He drops a kiss on Leah’s forehead, then leans down to kiss each of his daughters. “Text me when you’re ready.”
And with that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with Leah and two sleeping infants.
“Well,” Leah says, dropping onto my couch. “That was his subtle way of saying you reek of alpha, and it’s making him twitchy.” She pats the spot beside her. “Sit. Talk. Start with why you’re wearing a wool scarf indoors.”
I sink down next to her, suddenly exhausted. “It’s... complicated.”
“Zoe Clarke, if you don’t tell me what happened with the Sterling pack right now, I swear I will wake up these babies and leave you alone with them.”
I glance at the sleeping infants, their tiny faces peaceful. “That’s a low blow.”
“I’m desperate! Do you know how hard it is to get twins to nap at the same time? This is a miracle, and I’m wasting it on your crisis, so spill.”
I take a deep breath, then another. “I need to show you something. But you have to promise not to freak out.”
“That’s literally the worst way to start a conversation, but fine, I promise.” She leans forward, eyes bright with anticipation.
