Page 76 of Pack Plus One

Despite the tension, I find myself smiling. “That’s a terrible generalization.”

“But accurate in this case,” Jude insists. “Trust me.”

After some debate, we decide it’s worth a try. Mason, as the least intimidating of us, volunteers to knock on Mrs. Finley’s door.

The rest of us wait in the car, tense with anticipation.

Twenty minutes later, Mason returns with a smug-looking Mrs. Finley in tow. She’s wearing a floral housecoat and slippers, her silver hair in curlers, but seems utterly delighted by the drama.

“Well, well,” she says, peering into the car window that Jude rolls down. “Quite the pack you boys have going.”

“Did you check on Leah?” Caleb demands, leaning across Jude.

Mrs. Finley’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Such concern! I remember when my Harold would pace outside my building during my heats. Alpha instincts never change, do they?”

“Mrs. Finley,” I interject before Caleb can growl at her, “we’re just worried. Is Leah alright?”

The elderly omega’s expression softens. “She’s in pre-heat, dear. It’s not comfortable, but she’s managing. Has herself quite the nest set up in there.”

Some of the tension eases from my shoulders. “So she’s okay?”

“Physically, yes,” Mrs. Finley confirms. “Though she did seem agitated about something. Kept looking out her window at the street.”

My gaze snaps to Mason’s, a silent communication passing between us. Leah’s looking out her window—at us, most likely. She knows we’re here.

“Did she say anything?” Jude asks. “About us, maybe?”

Mrs. Finley’s smile turns sly. “Not in so many words. But I know a nesting omega when I see one, and that girl is preparing for something.”

“What does that mean?” Caleb demands.

“It means,” Mrs. Finley says with exaggerated patience, “that she’s gathering her strength. For what, only she knows.” She pats Jude’s cheek through the window. “Now, if you boys willexcuse me, I need my beauty sleep. Do try not to growl at any other residents before morning.”

With that, she totters back toward the building, Mason escorting her to the entrance.

“Well, that was cryptic and unhelpful,” Jude mutters once she’s gone.

“Not entirely,” I disagree, my mind racing. “We know she’s physically okay, and we know she’s aware we’re outside.”

“And looking for us,” Caleb adds, his voice tight with something between hope and anxiety.

“Let’s not read too much into it,” Mason cautions, returning to the car. “She could just be checking that we’ve respected her wishes and left.”

We lapse into silence, each lost in our own thoughts. The night stretches on, punctuated only by our regular check-ins at Leah’s door.

Around 9 AM the next day, during my turn, I notice something odd. The scent outside her apartment has... shifted. It’s still unmistakably Leah, still heavy with heat pheromones, but there’s something different about it. Something I can’t quite place.

I press my ear to the door, listening intently, but hear nothing.

“Leah?” I call softly, not wanting to disturb her if she’s finally sleeping. “It’s Liam. Just checking that you’re okay.”

No response.

A tendril of unease winds through me. I knock again, a little louder this time. “Leah? Can you just let me know you’re alright?”

Still nothing.

I hesitate, torn between respecting her privacy and my growing concern. Finally, I pull out my phone and send her a text:

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