Something in my chest tightens, then eases.
“I didn’t know that growing up,” I admit. “Betas were always treated like an afterthought. Like they were optional.”
“They’re not,” he says firmly, not angry, just letting me know. “Not to us.”
The certainty in his voice makes my throat ache. I think of Beck again, of the way everyone listens to him without question, the way his presence is woven into every part of this house.
“Do you want me to make you something else to eat?” Warren asks, pointing at my empty bowl.
“I’m good,” I shake my head, watching as he grabs the empty bag of granola and tips it upside down into his mouth, finishing off the last few crumbs. “This was a tiny bag,” he says with a small frown.
I can’t help but laugh. “It was a forty-eight ounce bag.” I tap the front of the packaging. “I’m pretty sure you're only supposed to eat a quarter cup.”
Warren arches a brow, completely unrepentant. “I’m pretty sure one container is one serving.”
My gaze drops to his lean, firm chest, wrapped up in his snug dress shirt. “You might be built now, but you're going to regret those serving sizes when you’re older,” I tease.
He folds the empty bag as he leans in, resting his forearms on the table. “I’ll let older Warren deal with that.”
I laugh. “Must be nice. I can’t even look at a piece of bread without gaining ten pounds. Once I hit twenty-five, everything stuck to this ass.”
Warren’s eyes go wide, and one corner of his mouth lifts. “Well, in that case, let me get you a loaf of bread.” Hestarts to shift like he’s about to stand, and I burst out laughing.
“Don’t you dare.” I reach out without thinking and grab his forearm, fingers wrapping around solid muscle, tugging him back into his chair. “Sit. You’ve done enough damage for one breakfast.”
He looks down at my hand still touching him, then up at me, surprised for half a second before he laughs too. It’s easy and unguarded, the sound warm in a way that makes my chest feel light.
“Alright,” he concedes. “No bread.”
I pull my hand back, suddenly feeling very warm. Heat creeps up my neck and settles in my cheeks, my pulse fluttering a little too quickly as Warren keeps looking at me.
His gaze lingers on my face, quiet and intent, like he’s taking his time to admire me. It feels weird to have someone look at me like that.
The attention makes my chest feel tight in a way that’s almost dizzying.
I drop my eyes to the table, suddenly shy, my fingers curling in my lap as I try to remember how to breathe normally.
“Okay.” Warren clears his throat, the sound soft but deliberate, like he’s breaking the moment for both of us. He reaches toward me, and I hold my breath, but instead of touching me, he picks up my bowl. “Do you want anything else?”
I shake my head, shifting nervously in my chair.
He nods once, like he expected that answer. “Okay,” he says again, softer this time. Then he stands and walks off toward the sink.
I stay where I am, listening to the quietsounds of Warren rinsing the dishes. It all feels so…domestic? Normal? Nice.
I stare down at the table, tracing a faint scratch in the cool marble with my fingertip.
It hurts a little to admit it, but this might actually be a good pack.
I don’t want to hope too hard, but I can’t help it. Not when everything here feels so different from what I was taught to expect.
I swallow hard as I rub my palms over the top of my sweatpants.
Because the truth is, it’s not like I can leave. I’m mated now. Bound. My life is tied to these alphas whether I want them or not. Cass is already woven into me in ways my body understands better than my mind does.
And soon, Warren and Grason will claim me too.
The thought sends a shocking shiver right through me.
