Page 6 of Pack Plus One

Dignified. And I can do this.

I can do this.

I can fucking do this!

Once he’s gone, I unroll the banner across the counter. The logo, a stylized cupcake with omega symbols as sprinkles, stares back at me. I’d designed it myself, a bold statement that omegas can create their own success, even in Sweetwater City.

“Newsflash,” I mutter to the empty bakery, “omegas can run businesses and have a pack. Or neither. Or both. Why is this a controversial take?”

My phone buzzes again. Another PackPlus notification.

Fuck!

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuck!

Just what I need—another alpha promising the moon while looking down his nose at me. Or worse, pitying the poor, packless omega trying to make it on her own.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” I tell Zoe almost two weeks later as we sit in a coffee shop far across town from the latest PackPlus disaster. “That was mythirdandfinalattempt.”

“The vest guy couldn’t have been that bad,” Zoe says, though her expression suggests she knows better.

“He showed up in a leather vest with no shirt, Zo.No shirt! In a coffee shop! And then he grabbed my wrist and tried to ‘test our compatibility’ by scenting me right there between the cream and sugar station.”

Zoe winces. “Okay, that’s bad.”

“And yesterday’s beta kept calling me ‘darling omega’ and tried to feed me a strawberry. ‘For the aesthetic,’ he said.” I make air quotes, rolling my eyes. “And don’t even get me started on today’s pack.”

“The growlers?”

“They literally growled at the waiter for ‘looking attheiromega wrong.’ I had to excuse myself to ‘check on my cactus’ just to escape.”

Zoe laughs so hard she snorts coffee through her nose. “You don’t have a cactus!”

“They don’t know that!”

When her laughter subsides, Zoe reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You’re gonna die alone.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m kidding.” She sobers slightly. “Look, just go alone. Hold your head high, steal some fancy appetizers, and leave. Who cares what Eric thinks?”

“Ido,” I admit. And I hate the truth of it. “Not because I want him back or anything, but because Ihatethat he was right. Twoyears later, and I’m still packless. Still the omega who doesn’t ‘inspire’ protective instincts.”

“That’s not because of you,” Zoe says fiercely. “That’s because most alphas are entitled jerks who think omegas should be grateful for their attention. You’re just selective.”

“Tell that to the forty-seven weirdos who responded to my ad,” I mutter.

“Did you check all forty-seven?”

“I checked enough.” I sigh, staring into my coffee. “The wedding’s in two days. I think it’s time to admit defeat.”

“So what’s the game plan?”

“Show up in my killer black dress?—”

“The one that gives you legs for days?”

“That’s the one. Smile when Eric inevitably gloats. Drop a casual ‘Sorry, can’t stay for the wedding—bakery emergency’ and get the hell out of there before the actual ceremony.”

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