Page 144 of Pack Plus One

“Is that...?” Zoe starts, then trails off as recognition dawns. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

“That young man,” Mrs. Finley says, peering through her bifocals, “looks familiar.”

“He should,” I say through clenched teeth. “He’s the alpha who told me opening my own bakery was ‘cute but unrealistic for an omega.’”

“The one who said your cupcakes were ‘adequate for amateur work’?” Zoe adds helpfully.

“The very same.”

Mrs. Finley’s expression hardens. “Well,” she says, drawing herself up to her full five-foot-two height, “this simply won’t do.”

And before I can stop her, she’s marching toward the door, fabric swatches forgotten.

“Mrs. Finley, wait—” I call, but it’s too late. The elderly omega is already crossing the street with alarming speed for someone who complained about her bunions not five minutes ago.

“Oh my god,” Zoe whispers, gleeful. “This is going to be amazing.”

We scramble after her, dodging a delivery truck as we rush across the street. By the time we reach Alpha Bites, Mrs. Finley is already facing down Eric, her tiny frame vibrating with indignation.

“Young man,” she’s saying as we approach, “do you have a permit for that awning installation?”

Eric looks down at her, his expression a mix of confusion and condescension. “Yes, ma’am. Everything’s in order.”

“I very much doubt that,” she sniffs. “The neighborhood association has strict guidelines about signage. Article seven, section three clearly states that all exterior modifications must be approved by the committee.”

Eric’s mouth opens, then closes. He clearly hasn’t expected to be confronted by a septuagenarian wielding bylaws like weapons.

“I assure you, our paperwork is in order,” he says, his alpha voice dropping into that authoritative register that used to make me want to please him. Now it just makes me want to vomit.

“We’ll see about that,” Mrs. Finley says ominously. Then, spotting me and Zoe, she adds, “Ah, Leah dear. Come explain to this young man the consequences of violating zoning ordinances.”

Eric’s gaze shifts to me, and his expression changes—surprise, followed by something that might be guilt, quickly masked by smug satisfaction.

“Leah,” he says, his voice warming with false affection. “What a coincidence.”

“Coincidence,” I repeat flatly. “You’re opening a bakery. Directly across from mine. And you’re calling it a coincidence.”

He has the audacity to shrug. “It’s a prime location.”

“It’s deliberate sabotage,” Zoe counters, stepping forward. “And pathetically transparent.”

Eric’s attention shifts to Zoe, his lip curling slightly. He’s never liked her, probably because she saw through his alpha posturing from day one. “This is a business decision,” he says coolly. “Nothing personal.”

I laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “Nothing personal? Your sign literally specifies ‘proper omegas,’ Eric. That’s about as personal as it gets.”

Eric straightens his tie—a nervous habit I once found endearing but now recognize as the prelude to bullshit. “Not every omega wants to be a... free spirit, Leah.”

The way he says “free spirit” makes it sound like “feral animal.” My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I become aware that I’m still covered in wallpaper glue, my hair is a disaster, and I probably look exactly like the unprofessional mess he thinks I am.

I step closer, fury overriding my usual caution around confrontation. “What you’re offering is mediocrity dressed up as superiority. And you’re only doing it to spite me because I didn’t fit into your narrow definition of what an omega should be.”

Zoe’s hand lands on my arm, a gentle restraint. “He’s not worth it, Leah,” she murmurs.

But I’m too far gone, years of suppressed anger finally finding an outlet. “You couldn’t handle that I had ambitions beyond being your supportive little mate,” I continue, my voice rising. “So now you’re trying to sabotage the thing I’ve worked hardest for.”

Eric’s expression darkens. “You’re being dramatic. This is business, not a vendetta.”

“Is that why your sign specifically targets ‘proper omegas’?” I demand. “Is that why you’ve set up shop directly across from me? Is that why you’re opening exactly two weeks before my grand opening?”

---