Chapter 22 #2
“Different specializations,” Jalen adds. “But we kept getting thrown together on missions. After a while, it just... clicked.”
“Bonded during a particularly shit deployment,” Dax says bluntly. “The kind where you either form a pack or break completely. We formed.”
I can hear the weight in those words. The things they’re not saying about that deployment. About what they went through together.
“We officially formed a pack after discharge,” Cole continues. “Couldn’t imagine going back to civilian life separately after everything.”
“But why event planning?” I ask, genuinely curious. “That’s not exactly a typical post-military career path.”
Malik’s expression softens. “My sister. She’s an omega, got mated while we were deployed. When we came back, she was planning her wedding and drowning in stress. Asked for help.”
“We were supposed to just assist,” Cole picks up the story. “But Malik got invested. Started redesigning her whole vision. Making it better.”
“And I’m apparently good at making things look pretty,” Malik says with a self-deprecating shrug.
“You’re good at making things perfect,” Jalen corrects. “The wedding was incredible. People noticed. Started asking if we did this professionally.”
“We didn’t,” Dax says. “But we figured, why not? We worked well together in the military. Why not try something new?”
“So, you just... started a business?”
“More or less. We had some savings. Dax knew business management. I knew how to make things beautiful. Cole could charm anyone. Jalen kept us all organized and sane.”
“And you built it into one of the most successful event planning companies in Sweetwater,” I finish.
“Successful enough to be your competition,” Cole says, and there’s something careful in the way he says it. Like he’s testing how I’ll react.
I should probably be irritated by the reminder. Should feel that competitive spark. But instead, I’m just... curious.
“You’re all unmated,” I say cautiously. “No pack omega.”
Another exchanged glance.
“We’ve been waiting,” Malik says quietly. “For the right fit.”
A thick silence falls, charged with the weight of his admission. I’m not ready to examine the implication.
“What about you?” Jalen asks, and the subject change feels deliberate. “How did you end up in event planning?”
I focus on the cards in my hands, shuffling them into neat piles. “I’m an only child. My mom and her alphas died when I was in college. Car accident. No siblings, no extended family that wanted anything to do with me.”
“Sierra—” Dax starts, sympathy thick in his voice.
“It’s fine,” I interrupt, even though it’s not. Even though the hole their absence left never quite healed. “It was a long time ago. But I had to figure out how to support myself. I needed an actual career.”
“Why events?” Cole asks.
“Because...” I pause, trying to articulate something I’ve never really put into words before. “Because events are about bringing people together. Creating moments of joy and connection. I didn’t have that. No family, no pack, no people who chose to keep me. But I could create it for others.”
The silence that follows almost makes me squirm. I have no idea why I told them all that, but it doesn’t feel weird that I did. Somehow.
“You built your business from nothing,” Malik says. “No pack support. No family backing.”
“Just me,” I confirm. “And a lot of determination.”
“That’s...” Jalen shakes his head. “That’s incredible, Sierra.”
“It’s lonely,” I correct quietly. The admission slips out before I can stop it.
More silence. But this time I can feel them all looking at me with something that makes my chest constrict.
“Do you want a pack?” Dax asks, and the question is gentle but direct.
My fingers still on the cards. Do I want a pack?
A week ago, I would have said no without hesitation. Packs were for other omegas. Omegas who had families to introduce them to potential alphas. Omegas who grew up with the expectation of finding a pack.
Not omegas like me, who learned early that the only person she could rely on was herself.
But that was before. Before this storm. Before the heat. Before I spent days wrapped in the safety of four alphas who seemed determined to take care of me whether I wanted them to or not.
Before I learned what it felt like to not be alone.
“I never really thought about it,” I say slowly, honestly. “It seemed like something other omegas did. Something that wasn’t for me.”
“And now?” Dax presses.
I look up at them. All four of them watching me with varying degrees of hope and uncertainty and something deeper I’m afraid to name.
“Now...” I swallow hard. “Now I’m starting to see the appeal.”
The words come out soft, but I can see the impact they have. Dax’s whole body relaxes slightly. Malik’s eyes go warm. Jalen’s smile is gentle and knowing. Cole looks like I just gave him something precious.
My face is burning. I can feel the heat spreading down my neck, my chest. “I mean, you’re... you know. You’re good at the pack thing. Very... appealing.”
“We’re very appealing,” Cole repeats, and his grin is slow and devastating. “Did everyone hear that? Sierra thinks we’re appealing.”
“Cole,” I groan, burying my face in my hands.
“Extremely appealing,” he continues, clearly enjoying my mortification. “Appealingly appealing. The most appealing pack she’s ever—”
“I will take back every single pretzel you won from me,” I threaten.
“You can’t take back winnings. That’s against poker rules.”
“I’ll make new rules.”
“Dictator,” he accuses, but he’s laughing.
But the question lingers.
I deal the next hand, trying to focus on the cards instead of the four alphas watching me like I’m the most interesting thing in the room.
We play several more rounds. Cole tries to bluff me again, and I call him on it immediately. He retaliates by correctly identifying my tell, earning him a rare win that he celebrates with entirely too much enthusiasm.
“I beat her!” he announces to the room. “I actually beat Sierra Smith at poker!”
“Once,” I point out. “You beat me once.”
“I’ll take it.” He’s practically glowing with satisfaction.
“Another for the win column?” Malik asks dryly. “Is this one next to the ‘Sex God’ column you started yesterday?”
Cole grins. “Right next to it. And they both have tally marks now.”
Despite myself, I laugh. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously appealing?” he suggests hopefully.
“Don’t push it.”
But I’m smiling as I say it, and from the way his own smile widens, he knows it. The laughter fades, but the warmth of it remains, settling between us in the quiet. But then the question comes before I can stop it: “Why were you so competitive with me? Professionally?”
The mood shifts immediately.
Malik sets down his cards, glancing at the others before he releases a breath. “Because you’re good. Really good.”
“So, you tried to crush me?” The words come out a bit sharp.
“No.” He meets my eyes steadily. “Not intentionally. But when we saw your work, saw how talented you were... we saw a threat to our business.”
“So, you poached my vendors.”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No excuse.
“And undercut my prices.”
“Yes.”
The honesty is almost worse than if he’d tried to justify it. I look at the others, seeing the same acknowledgment on their faces.
“We were wrong,” Dax says quietly. “The way we handled it. How we treated you. We were wrong.”
“We were fools,” Malik adds. “You weren’t just good. You were doing something different. Something better in a lot of ways. Instead of learning from that, instead of seeing you as a colleague, we saw competition to be eliminated.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why not just... be better? Outperform me fairly?”
“Pride,” Jalen says simply. “We’d built something from nothing, and we were protective of it. Too protective. When you showed up doing incredible work, we felt threatened.”
“So, you tried to drive me out.”
“Not drive you out,” Malik corrects. “But make things difficult enough that you’d back off from the major clients. Let us have the big contracts.”
“Because you thought you deserved them more than I did.”
Another pause. Then, from Dax: “Yes. We thought our pack status, our resources, our experience gave us more claim to those clients than a solo omega.”
The admission sits heavy between us. The big, ugly truth.
I should be angry. Should probably throw the cards at them and storm off. But instead, I just feel... tired. And oddly relieved that they’re being honest.
“That’s fucked up,” I say quietly.
“Completely,” Cole agrees. “We were assholes.”
“You were.” I look at each of them in turn.
“You made my professional life so much harder than it needed to be. Every vendor you poached, every client you undercut me on, every time you showed up at a venue I was touring... you made me feel like I had to fight twice as hard just to exist in the same industry.”
“I know,” Malik says. “And I’m sorry. We’re all sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t get me back the contracts I lost.”
“No,” he agrees. “It doesn’t. But if there’s any way to make it right—”
“There isn’t,” I interrupt. “What’s done is done. But...” I take a breath. “I appreciate the honesty. And the acknowledgment that you were wrong.”
“We were,” Dax says firmly. “And for what it’s worth, watching you these past few days, seeing how you handle problems, how you think about others… we were idiots. You’re not just a good person. You’re exceptional.”
The compliment makes my cheeks warm. “I thought we were past flattery.”
“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Jalen says. “You built a business from nothing, with no support, and made it successful enough to compete with established packs. That’s not just talent. That’s extraordinary.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Don’t know how to process the genuine admiration in their voices, the respect that feels so different from the competitive edge that’s defined our relationship until now.
“So,” Cole says after a moment. “Plans for after this?”
The question drops like a stone into still water.
After this. After the storm. After the roads clear. After we all go back to our separate lives.
Nobody answers.
The silence stretches, because none of us has an answer.
None of us knows what comes next.
Or if there even is a next.
I stare at the cards in my hands, at the pretzel chips I’ve won, at everything except the four alphas who might walk out of my life tomorrow.
And I have absolutely no idea what I want.
Or what they want.
Or what any of this means.
“I fold,” I say quietly, setting down my cards.
It’s meant to be about the poker game.
But it feels like so much more.