Page 52 of Pack Plus One

I scramble through my apartment like a burglar who just tripped the alarm, nearly face-planting over my own coffee table. My oversized emerald sweater—the one I specifically bought to look chic and unbothered—snags on a rogue nail as I fling open the window and I clamber onto the metal platform.

“Of course,” I mutter, wrestling with the fabric. “Because why wouldn’t there be a rusty death trap waiting for me right now?”

A thread of green yarn unravels behind me like a breadcrumb trail, marking my path of shame.Perfect. Now they’ll have evidence.

The metal groans ominously beneath my feet.

This is how horror movies start.

I take one step down.

The entire structure shudders.

This is also how horror movies end.

I look down. All that’s there is the giant dumpster and the little service entrance road that I’ll use to make my escape far far away from this place. I make it exactly one flight before the universe remembers it hates me. My foot slips on a loose rung, and suddenly, I’m airborne.

Time slows.

I have approximately 1.7 seconds to contemplate my life choices:

Why didn’t I just answer the door like a normal person?

Why did I wear my nice leggings today?

Is this how I die? With my body broken on asphalt?

Then—

THUD.

I land with a bone-jarring impact in something soft and warm and?—

Oh God.

Oh no.

The dumpster.

Just my luck.

“Let me get this straight,” Zoe says, lowering her phone after taking what must be the fiftieth photo of my misery. “You’re hiding from four hot, rich, devoted men because...?”

I groan from the depths of her bathtub, sinking deeper into the steaming water. The lingering scent of garbage clings stubbornly to my hair despite two rounds of shampoo.

“Because it’s insane, Zo! Three days ago, I was kneading dough. Now I’m questioning my life choices! And taking a bath in your bathroom because I landed in a dumpster trying to escape one of them!”

Zoe bursts out laughing again, snapping another photo. “Say ‘cheese.’ This face is going on your bakery’s ‘About Us’ page.”

“I hate you,” I inform her, sinking lower until the water reaches my chin.

“No, you don’t.” She perches on the toilet seat, scrolling through her photos with a satisfied smile. “What you hate is that you have four gorgeous men, a pack I might add, chasing you, and instead of enjoying it like any sane omega would, you’re hiding in dumpsters.”

“It’s not that simple,” I protest. “It’s... complicated.”

“What’s complicated? You like them. They like you. You’ve already had mind-blowing sex. The only complicated thing is why you’re fighting this so hard.”

I close my eyes, trying to articulate the swirl of emotions churning inside me. “It’s too much, too fast. I barely know them, Zo. And they barely know me. This isn’t some fairytale where everyone lives happily ever after after one magical night.”

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