Knot Her Shot (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 2)

Chapter 16

chapter

sixteen

I stareat the alpha in front of me, blinking in disbelief.

It’s—

Him.

The perfectly tailored navy suit. The terrifying scowl. The monogrammed cuffs.

The same ones that flashed under my face as he splattered steamed milk all over me a few days ago. Three letters, embroidered in no-nonsense-navy: SCP.

Now I know the “S” stands for Smith. The “P” stands for Pierson.

The “C” must stand for that one rude word I don’t even like to think to myself.

It all makes sense. Their file said that the alpha owns a property development company. Smith must develop the properties and then invest in businesses. He’s one of the alphas who’s been stomping around, throwing orders at me.

In fact, this alpha is theworst one. He fired Nan. And he’s the only alpha who feels entitled to bark at me.

“Faster.”

“If you can’t do your job, I’ll find someone who can.”

“We don’t have all day to deal with your incompetence!”

“I don’t give a fuck what your excuse for being pathetic is.”

The longer I stare, the worse it gets.

I recognize his watch, too. Its flat, gold face caught the light as he tossed his scalding drink in my face. His cufflinks, too—each one a simple gold bar with smaller bookends on either side.

I know all of these tiny details by heart, because he’s shoved so much dominance and intimidation at me, I’ve spent the last two months unable to look up at his face when he speaks.

Fear seizes inside of me while my mind races, trying to rationalize. Attempting to make sense of how he could treat me so callously while smelling so utterly perfect.

His scent. Why didn’t I smell it in the coffee shop? As soon as I got close enough—I assumed the coffee grinder was the source of the earthy, overpowering aroma of fresh coffee.

But maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe it washim.

Now that he’s here in person, I sense that bitter richness underscoring Damon and Cassian’s sweeter scents.

It’s him.

Hissmell.

The same one I, ironically, fantasized about for years.

Because he’s part of this pack. The pack I’m supposed to be scent-sensitive to.

Weeks of him yelling at me, calling me names, barking orders… that must be what sent my Omega over the edge. He’s the reason I’ve felt so erratic and uncomfortable lately. Even when I didn’t recognize him, she did. And his actions were a heck of a lot worse than any average rejection.

It could also be the reason I’ve felt so frazzled and hormonal at work. My body reacted instinctively to his proximity, even when scent-neutralizers inhibited my mind’s ability to comprehend why.

Frustration creases his features while he stares back at me, scowling. If I weren’t so devastated, I might be annoyed that the expression does nothing to diminish how handsome he is. Between his square jaw, straight nose, and thick blond hair, it’s undeniable.

He’s shocked. That makes sense, too, assuming he never really looked at me too closely. I wear tons of de-scenter to work, and the other smells in there are so strong, he’d never scent me inside the shop. Between that and my oversized clothes, I’m sure I didn’t seem too interesting.

No. To Smith, I was just another servant. Someone weaker and smaller.

Meaningless.

Certainly not good enough for him. Or his pack.

My scent burns, along with any hope in my heart.

No matter how much I denied it to myself, for a few minutes, I really did think Damon and Cassian wanted to take me home. I believed it was finally happening.

Am I really this naive after all these years? Haven’t I learned better yet?

The queasy sensation in my stomach is so familiar, my eyes prick with tears. I know this feeling—it’s a warning. My body is ramping up, filling with adrenaline, preparing for the pain. If I don’t leave first, this pack alpha will ask me to.

And the last thing I want to do is burst into sobs when this gloriously handsome, horribly cruel man rejects me.

I move toward the door, darting around Damon and Cassian as I whisper, “I need to go.”

Cassian starts to protest, “What’s going on?”

I swallow a whine, unable to even look at him. If I do, I won’t be able to move. And I need to.

The ever-darker scent of smoking coffee grounds underscores my anxiety. Smith is furious.

I chance another glance at his face and instantly regret it. Lord, why does he have to look like this? It’s a good thing I didn’t have the nerve to glance up at him all this time. If I had seen just how gorgeous he is when he’s angry, I might have just dropped to the floor of Proper Coffee and presented.

Oh my God. What is wrong with me?

“Rems,” Cassian says again, his voice edged with alpha insistence. “What happened?”

I shift on my bare feet, trying to ignore the slippery slick gathered at the top of my thighs. “I just need to go,” I blurt, humming with the desire to flee and hide.

Cassian lumbers over to me, reaching out to touch my cheek again. His face drops into a fearsome scowl, but pure pain streaks through his eyes while he mutters one word that absolutely breaks my heart.

“Already?”

He doesn’t seem angry. He seems like a man who’s been having the best dream and was just told it’s time to wake up. Resigned but not ready. Wistful for something he’s still in but knows he’s going to miss immensely.

Like he had feared this moment since he saw me again.

Like, maybe, he actually does want me to stay.

Damon chimes in, his voice closer than before. “Of course you can leave, sweetness. I’ll drive you home right now. But I think we all want to know why you’re in such a rush all of a sudden.” He appears at Cassian’s shoulder, pinning me with those light blue eyes, so full of hope and worry. “Please?”

I stare up into their faces—Cass’s craggy with heart-wrenching longing, and Damon’s full of hopeful eagerness. The twin scents of hazelnut and autumn spice wash over me, banishing a bit of my panic.

They steady me while I wipe at my face, sniffing and gesturing at Smith. “He’s my boss,” I say again. “And he’s?—”

Horrible, abusive, scary…

I hear approaching footsteps, but Smith stops a few feet from the others. Fire snaps in his dark eyes while he barks, low, “Enough, omega.”

If I weren’t so totally overwhelmed, I might have the energy to be properly insulted. Some heat flares in my own eyes when I find the nerve to stare back at him, my spine straighter.

“Yes, Sir.”

Before any of them can give me another command, I do what my instincts are clamoring for and make my escape.