Chapter 9
NINE
Michelle
I couldn't sleep.
Again.
It was becoming a pattern, lying in my childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, while my suppressants failed spectacularly and my omega screamed at me for fighting what was obviously inevitable.
Three alphas were sleeping in my mother's house. My pack, because that's what they were, even if I was too scared to say it out loud, were down the hall, and every cell in my body knew exactly where they were.
Lucas in the blue room, probably dreaming about cozy content and village expansions.
Ro in the green room, likely planning tomorrow's filming schedule even in sleep.
Dex in the study, positioned so he could hear if anything went wrong, because protection was coded into his DNA.
And me, alone in my room, fighting the instinct to go to them.
My room smelled like pack now. Like cedar and vanilla and spruce and woodsmoke and leather and bergamot, all mixing with my peppermint and pine until I couldn't tell where their scents ended and mine began.
The suppressants were completely useless at this point. I'd been taking double doses for days, and all they were doing was giving me headaches while my omega laughed at my attempts at control.
Just give in, she whispered. Go to them. They're ours. We're theirs. Stop fighting.
"Not helpful," I muttered to my own biology.
I checked my phone. 2:47 AM. Too late to be awake, too early to give up on sleep.
My work inbox had thirty-seven unread messages. The GamerGear sponsorship needed final approval. Two potential clients wanted consultations. My other clients needed various levels of attention.
Professional Michelle had work to do.
But I couldn't focus on work when my entire body was vibrating with the need to nest, to claim, to surrender to pack bonds I'd been fighting for six days.
Six days. Less than a week. And these three alphas had completely upended my carefully constructed life.
I threw off the covers and headed downstairs. If I couldn't sleep, I might as well be productive. Or stress-bake. Either worked.
The kitchen was dark and quiet, and I moved through it with the muscle memory of someone who'd lived here for eighteen years.
Hot chocolate first—my grandmother's recipe, the one that always soothed.
Then maybe cookies. Or brownies. Something that required enough focus to quiet my spiraling thoughts.
I was pulling out the cocoa powder when my phone buzzed.
A video call. From Callie Cross.
At 2:47 AM.
I almost didn't answer, but Callie didn't video call at random. If she was calling at three in the morning, something was wrong.
I accepted the call, and Callie's face filled my screen—pink hair in braids, glittery eye mask pushed up on her forehead, her streaming setup visible behind her.
"Michelle!" she said, way too bright for the hour. "I knew you'd be awake. You're always awake when you're spiraling."
"I'm not spiraling. I'm making hot chocolate."
"At three AM. While you're staying with your fated pack. That you've been avoiding talking to me about." She leaned closer to the camera. "Honey. You're spiraling."
I sighed, settling onto a kitchen stool with my phone propped against a canister. "How did you even know I'm here with them?"
"Because you've been offline for days, which never happens. And because I saw the stream clips of you defending Lucas. Twice." Her expression softened. "Michelle. You jumped on camera. In front of thousands of people. That's huge for you."
"He was being attacked. I couldn't just sit there."
"You could have. You should have, according to your own rules. But you didn't. Because he's your alpha and you couldn't stand watching him hurt." She smiled gently. "So. Want to tell me what's actually going on?"
And just like that, I broke.
"I met them," I said, my voice cracking slightly.
"My fated pack. At Pike Place Market, six days ago.
Three alphas, Lucas, aka. CozyLuke, Ro, who I'd been emailing with for six months, and Dex, their security guy.
All three of them. At once. And I ran, Callie.
I saw them and felt the bond and completely panicked and ran. "
"Oh honey," Callie breathed. "That's…that's huge. Three alphas? That's so rare."
"Some people would disagree,” I mumbled, giving her a pointed look, to which she just raised an eyebrow.
I sighed and added, “I know. And then I fled to my family home to figure out what to do, and I invited them here because I'm an idiot, and now they're staying in my mother's house and integrating with my family and appearing on streams and I can't—" I stopped, taking a breath.
"I can't keep fighting this, Callie. My walls are crumbling.
My professional boundaries are disappearing.
Every instinct says surrender, and I'm terrified. "
"Of what?"
"Of losing everything. My business, my reputation, my independence, myself. Of becoming someone who exists only in relation to pack. Of disappearing the way my mom did after Dad died." The words spilled out, raw and honest. "Of caring so much that losing them would destroy me."
Callie was quiet for a moment, and I watched her process.
"Okay," she said finally. "I'm going to tell you a story. And you're going to listen without interrupting, because you need to hear this."
"Callie—"
"No interrupting!" She pointed at the camera.
"Michelle. Not too long ago, I was doing a networking event.
Meeting people, making connections, you know the thing that good managers force, I mean, encourage their clients to do.
" She paused and winked at me. “Then, boom, I scent-matched with a whole pack in front of a room full of people who all seemed to have their fingers hovering over the record button at the exact right moment.”
I knew this story. Of course I did. I had freaking been there, had a front row seat to one of my good friends going into heat in front of a room full of content creators. Callie's scent-match had gone viral.
"I remember," I said quietly.
"But you didn't have to worry about professional complications,” I argued. “Lucas was already my client. The ethics are different."
"Are they though? Michelle, you've been managing Lucas for less than three months. But you've been emailing with Ro for six months. You were already building something before you ever scent-matched. The foundation was there."
"That doesn't make the optics better."
"Maybe not. But here's what I learned, the industry is changing.
Slowly, yes. But it's changing. Six months ago, I was terrified of being seen as 'just an omega.
' Now I'm known as the omega creator who proved pack bonds can enhance your brand, not destroy it.
And before me was Kara, who basically gave the middle finger to the industry and has built her own thing.
" She leaned closer to the camera. "You know how many omega creators have messaged me thanking me for normalizing pack content?
Especially nontrad pack content? Hundreds, Michelle. We're changing the conversation."
"I don't want to be a trailblazer. I just want to do my job."
"Too bad. You’re already a trailblazer. You’ve built a successful management company as an omega in an industry that's hostile to omegas. This is just the next phase."
I slumped against the counter, feeling exhausted. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for the next phase."
"Michelle. I've known you for years. I've watched you negotiate impossible deals, handle PR nightmares, build a business from nothing.
You're one of the strongest people I know.
" Her voice gentled. "But you've been running from happiness because you're scared of losing control.
And babe? You're already losing control.
The question is, what do you want to catch you when you fall? "
My eyes burned with tears. "Them. I want them to catch me. But Callie, I'm so scared."
"I know. But you're already falling. I've seen the stream clips. The way you look at Lucas. The way you defended him, twice, Michelle. Twice you broke your own rules because you couldn't stand watching your alpha hurt. That's not business. That's pack."
"What if I mess it up? What if I can't balance both? What if—"
"What if it's everything you've been missing?
" Callie interrupted. "Michelle, you called me crying last year because you were so lonely.
You said you'd achieved everything you wanted professionally but you felt empty. Remember that? Remember when I caught you watching Luke’s stream?
I could see the longing etched on your face. "
I did. It had been after a particularly successful quarter, record clients, record revenue, industry recognition. And I'd felt hollow.
"I remember."
"This is why. You've been running from connection for so long that you forgot what it feels like to not be alone. And now you have three alphas who are patient and respectful and clearly adore you, and you're still running. But Michelle—you can't run forever."
"I'm not running anymore. They're here. In my house."
"Physically, yes. But emotionally? You're still running. You're still holding back. You're still trying to control something that can't be controlled." She smiled gently. "Just let go, honey. Let yourself fall. They'll catch you."
"How do you know?"
"Because you just told me that you watched Dex fall off a ladder and you cried.
Because I saw you jump on camera to defend Lucas without even thinking about the professional consequences.
Because you invited them to your childhood home, Michelle.
Your safe space. You only do that for people who matter.
" She paused. "You already know they'll catch you. You're just scared to admit it."
I stared at my phone, at my friend's face, and felt something crack open in my chest.
"I'm in love with them," I whispered. "All three of them. And it's only been six days and that's insane and I don't know how it happened but I'm—"