“Hey, that was the plan! Deliver the chocolate, remind her about her appointments, see if she was okay. The bathroom thing was... improvisation.”
The sound of a door opening interrupts our bickering. Dane strides into the living room, his workout clothes damp with sweat, his expression as unreadable as ever. He stops, looking at each of us in turn.
“What happened?” he asks simply.
Diego and Rett turn to me expectantly.
I sigh. “CliffNotes version? I went to the gallery, gave Zoe the chocolate, we ended up in the bathroom, I made her come with my fingers, the claiming marks are definitely taking hold, and the static disappears completely when I’m with her.”
Dane blinks once, the only indication that he’s processing this information. Then he turns and walks to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of water. He takes a long drink before asking, “And how is she?”
Leave it to Dane to cut through the bullshit and ask the one question that matters.
“Confused,” I admit. “Overwhelmed. But... responsive. Very responsive.”
A muscle in Dane’s jaw twitches. “You shouldn’t have cornered her at work.”
“I know,” I say, the bravado finally fading. “But I needed to see her. The static was driving me crazy, and I just... I needed to see if it was real. This connection.”
“And?” Rett prompts.
“It’s real,” I say softly. “Whatever this is, it’s real. For all of us.”
A heavy silence falls over the room as we all process this. The implications are staggering. A beta that can bond with an entire alpha pack. A beta that can silence the static.Ourbeta.
Rett’s phone chimes, breaking the moment. He pulls it out, his eyebrows rising slightly as he reads the message.
“It’s her,” he says. “She wants to have dinner. Tomorrow night at 8. All of us.”
“Let me see,” Diego says, moving to read over Rett’s shoulder. His face breaks into a wide smile. “She wants to talk! This is good, right?”
“Depends on what she wants to talk about,” Dane mutters.
“Who cares?” I say, some of my earlier energy returning. “She’s willing to see us. That’s a start.”
Rett stares at his phone, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. “What should I say?”
Diego blinks in surprise. “Since when do you ask for input on texts?”
“This is uncharted territory,” Rett says simply. “This affects all of us.”
It’s such an un-Rett-like sentiment that we all stare at him for a moment. Rett, who makes million-dollar decisions without breaking a sweat. Rett, who once fired his father’s oldest friend for incompetence without a second thought. Rett, asking for our input on a text message.
“Just say we’ll be there,” Dane suggests.
“Add that we’re looking forward to it,” Diego chimes in.
“And that we miss her,” I add.
Rett rolls his eyes. “I’m not writing a Hallmark card. ‘We’ll be there’ is fine.”
He types quickly, then shows us the screen.
We’ll be there
“Wow,” I deadpan. “So romantic. She’ll swoon.”
“It’s direct,” Dane says approvingly.
