Mason’s golden-brown eyes study my face, and something shifts in his expression. “You look familiar.”
My heart stops.
“Do I?” My voice comes out strangled.
“Yeah.” He tilts his head slightly. “Have we met before?”
“No. Definitely not. First time in Mistberry Cove. Never been here. Total stranger.” I’m talking too fast.Slow down.“Though,I guess people say I have one of those faces. Generic. Very forgettable.”
“I don’t thinkforgettableis the word I’d use,” Mason explains, watching me intently.
“Could be my sister,” I blurt out. “She arrived in town yesterday. Said she came to this café. Maybe you saw her?”
Understanding dawns in Mason’s expression, and his mouth curves into a grin. “That was your sister?”
Oh, damn. That’s the grin of someone who definitely remembers the powdered sugar and Instagram incidents.
Mason’s grin widens. “Yeah. We met.”
Dylan appears beside him, coffee cup in hand, his green eyes bright with amusement. “Wait, that viral beignet girl is his sister?”
“Apparently,” Mason says, still studying me.
They’re both staring now, and heat creeps up my neck. This is a disaster. They’re connecting the dots. They’re going to figure it out.
“So she’s an Omega,” Mason asks, his tone casual but pointed, “under your care?”
The question lands like a stone.
Right. Siblings. Of course they’d assume I’m responsible for her, that I’m keeping my sweet, fragile Omega sister safe from the big, scary world.
Because that’s the script, isn’t it?
Omegas are precious. Rare. Delicate. Too delicate to be on their own. Too important to be trusted with independence. We’re supposed to stay close to home, find a nice Alpha (or three), and start popping out babies like it’s a sacred duty. The world wasn’t built for us to lead, but to focus only on what’s inside of a nursery.
We need guidance, they say.
Protection.
Preferably from someone bigger, stronger, and conveniently male.
Unmated Omegas? Dangerous and in danger. A threat to themselves and others. Especially if they leave the pack and start thinking they can be more than what natureintended.
So yeah. According to the usual metrics of Omega behavior, I’m failing spectacularly.
I left. I didn’t just stray from the lines; I jumped the damn fence. And the longer I pretend to be someone else, the more obvious it becomes that half this world is just waiting for me to trip up so they can say,See? Told you she couldn’t do it alone.
But then… Nina.
Running this entire café on her own, calm and competent and an Omega. I mean, she could be mated, but I don’t get that impression with how she was flirting with me moments earlier. Maybe this town isn’t as backward as some of the others. Maybe there’s space here to breathe. To hide. Totry.
I chuckle at the two Alphas watching me. Right, they want a response. “No one keeps my sister exactly under control or care. But I try.”
I square my shoulders, adding a little puffed-up big-brother energy. “She’s independent. Does her own thing.”
Dylan shoots Mason a look, something flickering between them—interest, maybe. Curiosity?
Then Dylan turns back to me, grinning like he already knows the answer. “But what Mason is really asking,” he says, “is whether she’s with anyone right now.”
