Page 122 of Taken By the Pack

She’s standing near a sleek black SUV, looking almost exactly the same as the last time I saw her—same wavy hair, same sharp eyes as when she was in high school.

But there’s something different. Something in the way she holds herself. And then I place it.

The scent.

She doesn’t just smell like herself anymore.

Jonah stands beside her, looking as rough as ever, arms crossed over his broad chest. And right next to him—his twin brother, Declan. My stomach tightens because the realization is instant.

She’s in a pack with them.

And it’s not just them. There’s a third scent clinging to her—one I recognize instantly, seconds before that deep voice cuts through the air.

“Parking in this town is a nightmare.”

Rhys.

The moment he strides over, everything clicks into place.

Jesus.

Fiona went and got herself a whole damn harem.

She must see the realization dawn on my face because her cheeks flush. Jonah just smirks, throwing an arm over her shoulders like he’s staking his claim.

Declan watches me carefully, his gaze assessing. Rhys, though—he grins wide.

“Jake fucking Marshall,” he says, reaching out to clasp my shoulder in that familiar, brotherly way. “Haven’t seen you since—what? Senior year?”

“Something like that,” I say, shaking my head. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Didn’t know you were still here,” he throws back. “Always figured you’d get out.”

I snort. “Yeah, well. Plans change.”

His gaze flickers over my shoulder to Grace, who’s watching the exchange with open curiosity.

Rhys gestures toward her. “And this is?”

I slide an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. “This is Grace. She owns the flower shop in town. And these two,” I nod toward Rowan and Ash, “are my packmates.”

Ash gives a small wave. Rowan just nods, still holding the damn Westbrook brochure like it personally offended him.

Fiona looks between us, her eyes sharp. “Packmates, huh?”

Something knowing flickers in her gaze, but she doesn’t say it out loud.

Grace, ever polite, offers her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Fiona takes it, smiling faintly. “You too. And of course, I know about your shop. I just haven’t found the time to come in.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” My girl smiles at Fiona.

For a second, it’s almost normal. Just two old friends catching up. But there’s an unspoken undercurrent, something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“I heard you were by the store looking for timber,” Declan directs at Rowan, “but we had closed for a few days.”

“I heard,” Rowan replies.

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