“A few more years?” I say incredulously. “Kieran, I’m thirty. You’re thirty-two. Most alphas our age already have multiple pups running around.”
He shrugs, unconcerned. “Most alphas don’t run a billion-dollar real estate empire while raising an eight-year-old.”
I bite back a growl of frustration. This is exactly why I waited until we were alone to bring it up. Kieran has been putting off completing the pack since our parents died, always with a different excuse.
First, it was grief. Then it was stabilizing the business. Then it was Nora needing stability. There’s always something.
My mind flashes back to the pharmacy, to those haunted green eyes and the scent of cherry blossoms. To the way she looked at me, wary but interested, her omega instincts responding to my alpha even through the scent blockers she wore. The way her lips parted slightly when our fingers touched, sending electricity shooting up my arm. The vulnerability in her voice when she thanked me for helping with her dropped items.
I hadn’t planned to follow her home. It just... happened.
My wolf took over, desperate to know more about this unmated omega who’d affected me so strongly. I tracked her car from a distance, watching as she drove to a run-down apartment building that made my alpha instincts howl with displeasure.
No omega should live in such conditions. She needs a pack to protect her.
I’d observed from my car as lights came on in a third-floor apartment. Later, two other women arrived—omegas, I guessed by their builds and the way they moved. Through the windows, I could see them talking, eating. But even from a distance, the sadness in Francine’s posture was visible to me.
Something was wrong. She wasn’t happy. And every fiber of my being wanted to fix it.
“I’m not talking about just any omega,” I tell Kieran now, my voice lower, more insistent. “This one is special. I felt it the moment we met.”
Interest flickers briefly in Kieran’s eyes before he masks it. “I don’t think…”
“This is different,” I growl, my patience fraying. “You know as well as I do that our pack needs an omega. We’re powerful, sure. We’re wealthy. But we’re incomplete. If we want to truly establish ourselves as one of the dominant packs on Howl’s Edge, we need the stability an omega brings.”
Kieran’s expression remains impassive, but I know I’ve struck a chord. Pack politics are important to him, perhaps more than to any of us. He understands the value of perception, of tradition.
“Besides,” I continue, pressing my advantage, “aren’t you tired of fucking random betas whenever the urge strikes? It’s empty, Kieran. It doesn’t satisfy the wolf. We need a real mate—a pack omega who can handle all of us.”
A muscle in Kieran’s jaw twitches. My words are affecting him. He opens his mouth to respond, but the front door bursts open with a gust of cold air and excited chatter.
“It’s so fluffy!” Nora’s voice rings through the house, high and delighted. “Drake! Kier! It’s snowing so much!”
I turn to see Nora bouncing into the dining room, snowflakes melting in her dark curls. Her cheeks are flushed pink with cold and excitement, her bright eyes sparkling. Behind her, Rowan strides in, his tall frame blocking the doorway momentarily. His long dark hair is pulled back in its usual man-bun, a few strands escaping to frame his face.
He’s always serious, but he laughs at Nora’s excitement over the rare snow event.
Elias follows, looking as put-together as always in his button-down shirt and glasses, snowflakes dusting the shoulders of his wool coat. He brushes them off meticulously, his fingers precise. Unlike Rowan’s stoic silence, Elias offers a warm smile as he enters.
“The first real snow of the season,” he announces, his amber eyes gleaming. “Nora insisted on catching snowflakes on her tongue for over twenty minutes.”
“Twenty-eight!” Nora corrects, jumping up and down, the snow on her boots creating small puddles on the hardwood floor. “And I made a tiny snowman, but Rowan said we had to come home for dinner! He’s so annoying. Keir, can we go back outside?”
Even though Kieran is pissing me off, the sight of my little sister warms my soul.
“You were turning into a tiny snowman yourself,” Rowan rumbles, his deep voice carrying a rare note of amusement. He ruffles Nora’s hair, sending more melting snowflakes cascading around her face. She giggles, swatting at his hand.
Kieran’s expression softens as he watches our little sister, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
“Go get changed into dry clothes, pup,” he tells her, taking on the paternal role of father after our parents had died. “We don’t want you catching a cold. That’s the last thing I want.”
“I never get sick!” Nora protests angrily, but she’s already skipping toward the stairs, leaving a trail of damp, icy footprints behind her.
Kieran turns back to me, gesturing toward Nora’s retreating form. “See? We have a little one to take care of. There’s no time for gallivanting around chasing elusive omegas.”
Rowan, who’s in the process of shrugging off his black tactical jacket, lets out a chuckle.
“Is that what this is about?” he asks, hanging his coat on the back of a chair. “Drake feeling his age and wanting to settle down?”
