Page 146 of Pack Plus One

She nods, satisfied. “Now, about that wallpaper...”

As Zoe and Mrs. Finley take care of my wallpaper disaster, the world turns grey. I can only stare out my shop window, watching the people moving about over at Alpha Bites.

I can’t believe he’s doing this to me.

I’m still absorbing the fact that Eric is more of a cunt than I first thought when the bell jingles. It’s a delivery person with a large arrangement of sunflowers.

“Delivery for Leah Carter,” the beta announces, setting the vase on my counter.

I open the small card tucked among the blooms.

For the omega who makes her own success. We’re just lucky to witness it. - C, J, L, M

“It’s from those handsome hunks, isn’t it?” Mrs. Finley grins, peering over my shoulder at the card.

I ignore her, my throat suddenly tight. The flowers are beautiful—bright and bold and perfectly imperfect, just like me.

I’m staring at them when Zoe comes close. “They’re good for you,” she says quietly, watching my expression. “You know that, right?”

Before I can respond, the bell jingles again. This time, it’s Jude, his arms loaded with paint cans.

“Leah!” he calls cheerfully. “Liam calculated the exact shade of yellow that would optimize the lighting, so I bought—” He stops short, noticing the tension in the room. “What’s wrong?Why do you look like someone died? Was it Mrs. Finley? She’s right there, so that can’t be it.”

“Young man!” Mrs. Finley exclaims, but there’s no real anger in it.

“Eric opened a competing bakery across the street,” Zoe explains, gesturing toward the window.

Jude sets down the paint cans with care, his usual exuberance vanishing as he processes this information. “The ex? The one who?—”

“Yes,” I cut him off. “That Eric.”

Jude’s expression darkens in a way I’ve rarely seen. His typically playful scent turns sharp, protective alpha pheromones filling the small space.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he says, his voice deceptively light. “For him.”

Something about his tone makes me nervous. “Jude, don’t?—”

“I’m not going to do anything,” he assures me, already pulling out his phone. “I’m just texting the pack. For... informational purposes.”

“Jude,” I warn.

“What?” He looks up, all innocence. “They’re on their way to help with the display cases anyway. They should know about potential... obstacles.”

I groan, already imagining Caleb’s reaction. The head alpha’s protective instincts are intense under normal circumstances. Add in a direct threat from an ex, and I might as well start planning Eric’s funeral.

“I can handle this myself,” I insist. “I don’t need pack intervention.”

Jude studies me for a moment, his expression unusually serious. “Has it occurred to you that maybe we need to help? That seeing you threatened makes us feel like shit if we can’t do something about it?”

That brings me up short. I’ve been so focused on maintaining my independence that I haven’t considered how my situation affects them.

“Oh,” I say softly.

“Yeah, ’oh,‘” Jude confirms. “Look, none of us thinks you need saving. We know you’re badass and competent and scary good at butter lamination. But we’re your pack, bonded or not. Let us have your back without making it a referendum on your independence.”

Mrs. Finley nods approvingly. “The boy makes sense, Leah.”

“I hate when you’re the voice of reason,” I tell Jude, which makes him grin.

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