She rattled off that ingredient list like she teaches a class on it. Like she's done this a thousand times. Like coffee is her language and she's been fluent since birth.
I arch an eyebrow but lift the mug anyway, because I'm too tired to argue and too curious not to try it. The first sip is...unexpected. Warm and floral and subtly sweet, with none of the bitterness I usually associate with coffee. The lavender is gentle rather than overwhelming. The honey rounds out the edges. The oat milk gives it a smoothness that doesn't coat my tongue the way dairy would.
I frown—because I refuse to give her the satisfaction of admitting it's good—and take another sip. Then another.
It's good. It's really, genuinely, annoyingly good. Far better than I was expecting. Far better than anything I could have made myself. Far better than most of the overpriced drinks I've paid fifteen dollars for at boutique coffee shops in the city.
"Do you like it?" she asks, and there's something hopeful in her voice that makes my chest do something complicated.
"No."
Elias snickers. "He likes it. He's just being a dick."
"I'm not?—"
"You're absolutely being a dick," Tank confirms. "You always get grumpy when something tastes better than you expected and you don't want to admit it."
"I hate both of you."
"You love us."
"Those things aren't mutually exclusive."
Tank steers the conversation back to the matter at hand with his typical efficiency. "So you're saying that because our pack doesn't have an Omega, they're going to fire you?"
All eyes turn to me. Even Rosemarie, who's been hovering near the counter with an expression I can't quite read.
I sigh, the fight draining out of me. There's no point in hiding it. They're my pack. They deserve to know what's happening.
"Yes," I say. "Industry standard for high-profile campaigns. Unbonded Alphas over thirty-five are considered... unstable. A liability. They think we're one bad day away from going feral, I guess." I take another sip of the coffee that I definitely don't like."It wouldn't be a big deal if one of the biggest opportunities of my career wasn't hanging in the balance."
"Which opportunity?" Elias asks, and the teasing is gone from his voice now. This is my packmate. My brother in everything but blood. The man who's been by my side through every success and failure of the last ten years.
"The Valentine's photoshoot." I set the mug down, suddenly unable to hold it. "Dolce & Gabbana. They approachedme—not my agency, not through normal channels. They came to me directly because they wanted my specific aesthetic for their Valentine's campaign."
I pause, gathering the words that have been sitting like lead in my chest all morning.
"Do you know how rare that is? To have a brand like Dolce & Gabbana seek you out personally? To have them say they wantyou, specifically, because no one else can capture what they're looking for?" I laugh, bitter and hollow. "I've been waiting for this moment for fifteen years. And now it's slipping through my fingers because of something completely outside my control."
"And if I can't secure an Omega in the next seventy-two hours, I lose the contract. I lose the Dolce shoot. I lose my slot for New York Fashion Week—which is inthree weeks. I lose everything I've been building toward for the last decade."
Silence.
Heavy, uncomfortable silence.
I can feel Rosemarie's eyes on me—curious, assessing, maybe even sympathetic. But I don't look at her. I can't. Because if I look at her, I'm going to think about the fact that she's an unmated omega standing in this kitchen, and my brain is going to start doing calculations that are completely inappropriate given the circumstances.
Elias's expression has gone tight, the way it does when he's trying not to show how much something is affecting him. Tankis unreadable as always, but I can see the way his hands have curled into fists on the table—the same hands that have pulled me out of more bad situations than I can count.
They know what this means. They know how long I've worked for this. How many sacrifices I've made. How many relationships I've let fall apart because I was too focused on my career to give them the attention they deserved.
They also know what this means forthem. Because my income isn't just about me. It's about the pack. It's about the investments we've made together, the plans we've built, the future we've been working toward as a unit.
And now it's all going to disappear because I don't have an Omega.
Because we don't have an Omega. Because no omega has ever looked at our pack and seen something worth claiming.
We're "Late Alphas." Defective, by society's standards. Too old to still be unbonded. Too selective, too demanding, too discerning. There's always a reason we're given for why we're alone. Never mind that we've been waiting for the right person. Never mind that we didn't want to settle for something that would make everyone miserable in the long run.
