Page 114 of Pack Frenzy
JESS
The drive home was quiet. Even with the radio on, my thoughts were louder.
I changed, fixed my hair, painted confidence over the cracks—but my reflection didn’t buy it.
Now the city’s all glass and chrome again, and the closer we get to Nexus, the tighter my ribs feel.
Nexus headquarters rises from the skyline like it’s allergic to warmth. Clean lines, mirrored glass, and a lobby that smells like power. The guys look carved from the same element as the building: sharp, contained, unshakable.
I’m the only one who feels like an imposter.
By the time we pull up, my pulse’s doing double time. The valet’s already opening the door, but Rowan beats him to it. His hand finds mine—steady, grounding.
Cassian circles to my other side, scanning the line of dark suits and glittering dresses like he’s expecting a threat.
Eli smooths a nonexistent wrinkle from his sleeve, calm as ever. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs, the words meant for me alone.
And for a second, I almost believe him.
Rowan’s in his usual black suit, collar open just enough to prove he doesn’t care about their rules. Cassian somehow made formal wear look dangerous. And Eli—God, he looks like every Beta dream of control and composure, sleeves rolled once, voice calm as marble.
Together, they’re gravity.
And I’m pretending I belong in their orbit.
At the entrance, a woman in a silver Nexus badge checks their IDs against a sleek tablet, her smile polite and soulless. “Mr. Kade. Mr. Locke. Mr. Hawthorne. And Miss Mancini.”
The way she saysMiss Mancinimakes it sound like a question.
Eli thanks her smoothly while Rowan’s jaw ticks once. Cassian just gives a sharp, warning grin that makes the greeter look away fast.
Then we’re inside—the kind of inside where the air itself smells expensive.
If confidence had a scent, this place reeked of it.
Perfume and polished marble, starched collars and money—too much of both. The Nexus dinner isn’t a dinner so much as a performance, every table a stage where Alphas and Omegas pretend they’re not being graded.
I smile when people look at me. And I keep my breathing even, because the last time I was inside Nexus walls, I didn’t have a pack to hide behind.
Now I do.
And I can’t hide how terrified I am that Nexus might change its mind. Tell the guys there was a mistake and I’m not supposed to be with them.
It wouldn’t take much—a misplaced signature, a re-evaluation, one person deciding I don’tfit.
They’d call it “reassignment.”
I call it losing everything that finally feels like mine.
So I keep my smile fixed and my heartbeat slow, like maybe I can fake belonging long enough for it to become real.
The ballroom hums with low conversation. Crystal chandeliers throw light that feels more like scrutiny than warmth. I tug at the sleeve of my dress—navy silk, smooth and a little too fancy for me—and take a sip of water just so I’ll have something to do with my hands.
At the next table, an Omega laughs too loudly, and I glance over and blink.
Lily.
She’s glowing. Literally—Omega glow, the kind that comes from four Alphas who adore her. One has his hand resting protectively at her back, another’s watching her mouth like every word is gold. She sees me, beams, and mouthsheyand I wave back before I can stop myself.
