“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Because watching you win was more entertaining than actually winning,” Cole admits. “Plus, you look so pleased with yourself when you take our chips.”
“Pretzels,” I correct automatically. “We’re playing for pretzels.”
“Whatever. The point stands. You’re adorable when you’re gloating.”
Adorable.
The word makes me flush hot, and I have to look away to hide it. But I can feel them all watching me. Can sense their attention like an actual touch.
“This might be the best poker game I’ve ever played,” Cole announces, leaning back in his chair.
“Agreed,” Malik says.
“Definitely top five,” Jalen adds.
“Top three,” Dax amends. “Sierra’s vicious. I like it.”
The casual way they say it, like I’m just one of them, makes my chest do something complicated.
We play another few hands. I win most of them, though Jalen manages to catch me once on a bluff. The victory makes him grin in a way that’s so genuinely delighted I can’t even be mad about losing.
Outside, the storm continues. Rain still drums against the windows, though it’s gentler now. More rain than deluge. The wind has dropped enough that I can’t hear it howling anymore.
The storm is really ending.
The thought makes my hands shake slightly as I gather the cards for my turn to deal, and I have to take a breath to steady myself.
Not yet. I’m not ready to think about that yet.
“So,” I say, shuffling the deck. “Tell me about your pack. How did you guys form?”
The question seems to catch them off guard. They exchange glances in that silent communication thing that packs do.
“Military,” Dax says finally. “We met during our first deployment.”
“All four of you? At the same time?”
“More or less.” Malik settles back in his chair. “Dax and I were in the same unit. Cole was intelligence. Jalen was combat medic.”
“Different specializations,” Jalen adds. “But we kept getting thrown together on missions. After a while, it just... clicked.”
“Bonded during a particularly shit deployment,” Dax says bluntly. “The kind where you either form a pack or break completely. We formed.”
I can hear the weight in those words. The things they’re not saying about that deployment. About what they went through together.
“We officially formed a pack after discharge,” Cole continues. “Couldn’t imagine going back to civilian life separately after everything.”
“But why event planning?” I ask, genuinely curious. “That’s not exactly a typical post-military career path.”
Malik’s expression softens. “My sister. She’s an omega, got mated while we were deployed. When we came back, she was planning her wedding and drowning in stress. Asked for help.”
“We were supposed to just assist,” Cole picks up the story. “But Malik got invested. Started redesigning her whole vision. Making it better.”
“And I’m apparently good at making things look pretty,” Malik says with a self-deprecating shrug.
“You’re good at making things perfect,” Jalen corrects. “The wedding was incredible. People noticed. Started asking if we did this professionally.”
