And then the line goes dead.
By the time I’m dressed, the guys are circling with stress etched in their faces.
Beck leans in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. “What was that about?”
“No idea. The mayor wants me to come to a town meeting.” I shove my phone in my pocket like that can hide the unease crawling under my skin. “It sounded… official.”
Ford steps closer, eyes sharp. “Lo.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, because it’s easier than explaining how the mayor’s voice is still a hook in my ribs.
Hayes studies me for a long beat, then says, calm and certain, “One of these days, you’ll know you can’t lie to us any longer.”
Ford tilts his head. “We can feel you. Every second.”
“We’re coming with you,” Beck announces.
I open my mouth to argue. Close it when I see their faces. They’re not moving on this. And maybe, God, maybe I’m glad for that.
I guess I need to get changed…
I stare at the closet because it’s a test I didn’t study for. Smart. Polished. Something that says respectable citizen, ready for a town meeting.
“Why does everything I own look like a crime against fashion?” I mutter, shoving hangers aside.
Hayes leans in the doorway, arms folded, wearing that slow grin that makes my pulse skip. “Pretty sure you could wear a garbage bag and still shut down the room.”
“That’s not helpful,” I shoot back, even though my cheeks warm.
“Helpful wasn’t the goal.” He pushes off the frame, sauntering closer, his fingers brushing a sundress on the rack. “This one’s good. Soft. Looks like you. Would pair well with one of those big sweaters you own by the dozen.”
Before I can answer, Beck appears behind him, brows drawn. “Too sweet. They’ll underestimate her.” He digs past both of us and yanks out a sleek black number. “This says, ‘don’t mess with me.’”
I blink. “Pretty sure that says ‘funeral chic.’”
Ford’s voice rumbles from the bed where he’s sprawled out. “She’s not wearing black. Pick something that makes her look like ours.”
That word does something to me. Warmth blooms under my skin, sharp as a brand.
Beck smirks, unbothered. “You want to scent her up too, big guy? Maybe stamp ‘property of us’ across her back?”
Ford sits up, eyes flashing dark amber. “Don’t tempt me.”
My stomach flips, heat coiling low. God, not the time.Definitelynot the time.
“Okay,” I cut in before this turns into a testosterone contest. “Neutral. Professional. Non-threatening.”
Hayes hums, fingers landing on a soft cream blouse and tailored trousers. “This,” he says simply. “Elegant. Confident. Doesn’t scream Omega trying too hard.”
I take them, smoothing the fabric waiting for it to steady me. “Yeah. This works.”
By the time I shimmy into the outfit, I feel… different. More polished. Someone who might actually belong in a meeting called by the mayor.
“What the hell do you think this is about?” Hayes asks. “This seems soweird.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I mutter, tugging at my sleeve. My stomach’s a tight knot. “Maybe it’s… God, maybe it’s about the parade.”
That gets all three of them to look at me.
