Page 108 of Taken By the Pack

Rachel’s eyes flick over Grace, then to me, something smug in her expression. “We were just wondering what kept you two.”

I don’t take the bait, but Liam isn’t done.

“I’d ask why you’re late,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair, “but I can smell it on you.”

Rachel snickers. My mother sighs, adjusting her napkin.

I grit my teeth. Grace’s face burns, but she doesn’t lower her gaze.

I pull out a chair for her. She sits, smoothing her dress, and I take the seat beside her. A waiter appears almost immediately, handing out menus.

“Would you like to hear tonight’s specials?” he asks.

“Oui,” my mother says smoothly.

The waiter begins rattling off the options, all in French. I glance at Grace. She’s frowning slightly, eyes scanning the menu like it’s written in code.

I lean in. “I’ll order for you,” I whisper.

Relief flashes in her expression, and she nods.

When the waiter turns to me, I don’t hesitate. “For her, thefilet de bœufwith the truffle reduction. Medium rare. And a glass of the Margaux.”

She exhales, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”

Liam raises a brow. “Ordering for her already?”

“Liam,” my mother warns.

I ignore him.

The conversation starts out polite—forced small talk about Westbrook Real Estate opening a new branch in Driftwood Cove. My father talks about expansion. My mother comments on the local architecture. I keep my responses clipped, focusing on my wine glass more than anything else.

It’s when the food arrives that things take a turn.

“So, Grace,” my father says, cutting into his steak, “tell us about your family.”

Grace hesitates, setting her fork down. “My parents were nomad Omegas. They passed away when I was little.”

There’s a beat of silence. My mother’s lips press together.

“And you were taken in by extended family?” my father asks.

Grace shifts. “No. I was raised in the system.”

I feel her tense beside me. My grip tightens around my knife.

Liam lets out a low whistle. “The system, huh? No pack to claim you?”

I shoot him a look.

He raises his hands. “I’m just saying. No wonder you latched onto Ash so fast.”

Grace stills.

Rachel smirks, swirling her wine. “I mean, you have to admit—it’s a bit convenient.”

Liam lets out a low laugh. “No, wife. I’m pretty sure what you’re suggesting would require a certain level of intelligence. What you’re looking at is an unclaimed mutt! Feral.” He spits the last word out like it’s arsenic.

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