Page 108 of Pack Plus One

Mrs. Finley considers this. “No family that I know of. Not close ones, anyway. Maybe her best friend, Zoe.”

Zoe.

The best friend we briefly met when we came over to Leah’s for that disastrous dinner.

The one who gave Caleb that assessing look, like she was mentally calculating how quickly she could take down all four of us if necessary.

“Do you have Zoe’s contact information?” Liam asks hopefully.

Mrs. Finley shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. Leah is quite private about her personal connections.”

“Thank you for your time,” Mason says politely, already pulling Caleb back from where he’s been silently looming like the world’s most attractive gargoyle. “If you hear from her, would you please let her know we’re concerned? And that we need to explain the misunderstanding?”

“I’ll pass along the message,” Mrs. Finley says, in a tone that suggests she will actually do it. “And gentlemen? For what it’s worth, I believe you. But whether Leah will is another matter entirely.”

With that parting shot, she closes the door firmly in our faces.

“Well,” I say after a moment of stunned silence. “That went better than expected.”

Caleb growls, the sound vibrating through the hallway. “We need to find this Zoe person.”

“How?” Mason asks practically. “We don’t even know her last name.”

We regroup outside the building, huddling on the sidewalk like the world’s most pathetic pack of alpha hounds who’ve lost their quarry. I immediately pull out my phone.

“Zoe,” I mutter, typing into the search bar. “That’s got to be enough to find someone in this city.”

Caleb glares. “That narrows it down to about 500 people.”

“476, according to this search,” I correct, holding up my phone to show the results. “But point taken.”

Mason exhales slowly, running a hand through his usually immaculate hair. “We’re screwed.”

“We barely even met her,” Liam points out. “Just that one time when we were arriving for dinner and she was leaving.”

“All I remember is that she seemed intrigued by our pack dynamic,” I say, scrolling through endless social media profiles of women named Zoe. “Kept looking between us like she was trying to figure out our hierarchy.”

“She wasn’t much taller than Leah,” Mason offers. “Brown hair in a short cut.”

“That describes approximately half the women in this city,” Liam says with a sigh. “We need more to go on.”

Caleb paces the sidewalk, his agitation evident in every step. Passersby give us a wide berth, no doubt sensing the frustrated alpha pheromones rolling off him in waves.

“Maybe the building manager knows Zoe’s last name,” I suggest, looking back at the building entrance. “Worth a shot, right?”

Liam nods, already turning back toward the doors. “It can’t hurt to ask. We’ve already woken him up and invaded his morning.”

“I’ll stay here,” Caleb growls, clearly not trusting himself to maintain civility at this point.

Mason and I follow Liam back into the building, the cool air of the lobby a stark contrast to the warming morning outside. The building manager is behind his desk now, sorting through mail in his small office with the resigned air of a man who’s given up on the possibility of a peaceful day.

He looks up when we enter, his expression instantly souring. “You again? I thought we were done here.”

Liam approaches with his most diplomatic smile. “Just one more quick question, and then we’ll be out of your hair. Do you happen to know Zoe’s last name? Leah’s friend?”

The manager stares at us like we’ve just asked him to solve advanced calculus. “You don’t even know her best friend’s last name?” he asks incredulously. “What kind of relationship is this exactly?”

“We’re working on it,” I say cheerfully. “Our relationship is still in the... early stages.”

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