“Are not going to be pack. Professional rivals. Remember? Competitors. People who stole our wedding.”
But I’m already moving, my body overriding my brain’s very reasonable objections. My feet hit the floor, and I’m pulling open the door before I can talk myself out of it.
The hallway is dimly lit by the emergency lights, casting long shadows. The air is cooler out here than in my room, and I can smell them, all four alpha scents mixing together in a way that makes my omega practically purr.
“This is such a bad idea,” I mutter, but I keep walking.
I stumble slightly, bracing a hand against the wall for balance. Down the hallway. Past the bathroom. Toward the living room where the voices are coming from.
My heart is pounding, and I’m very aware that I’m wearing basically nothing and probably look like a disaster and am definitely giving off omega-in-heat pheromones like a beacon.
This is going to be mortifying.
But what if they’re actually hurt?
What if something’s actually wrong?
I round the corner into the living room, and all four pairs of alpha eyes snap to me immediately.
Fuck.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sierra
The awareness slams into me. Four alphas, all focused entirely on me, and my omega practically does a backflip of excitement.
ALPHAS.
“I heard a crash,” I manage, trying to sound normal and professional and like I’m not currently running a fever in tiny pajamas. “Is everyone?—”
That’s when I see the blood.
Jalen is in the kitchen, standing by the sink with his hand wrapped in what looks like a dish towel. Even from here, I can see red seeping through the fabric. Broken glass glitters on the floor around his bare feet, and there’s a shattered glass in the sink.
My omega does not like this.
Alpha is hurt. Alpha needs help. Fix it.
“What happened?” I’m already moving toward him before I consciously decide to, my bare feet careful on the hardwood.
“It’s nothing,” Jalen says quickly, but his voice is tight. “Just grabbed a glass in the dark and it broke. I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Barely.”
“Jalen.” Dax’s voice comes from behind me, low and worried. “Let her see.”
I reach Jalen and very carefully step around the broken glass. Up close, I can see more blood on his hand, dripping onto the counter. The dish towel is already soaked through.
“Let me see,” I say, knowing I’m using my omega voice without being able to stop myself. The one that’s soft but brooks no argument. The one that makes alphas want to listen and comply.
It works. Jalen unwraps the towel slowly, revealing a nasty gash across his palm.
“Shit,” I breathe. “Okay. First aid kit?”
“With the emergency supplies,” Cole says from somewhere behind me. “I’ll get it.”
