Chapter 11
Cole
I exhale slowly as I step forward, taking in the chaos around me. Xavier’s agitatedly pacing back and forth across the office. Massimo’s unbuttoned and his hair's a mess. And our newest pack member, Laurant is about to lose his fucking mind unless someone tells him what happened.
Fuck! I’m not completely sure myself what happened.
“We need to get out of here. Laurant, I’ll fill you in on the way home, but honestly, I’m not a hundred percent sure myself,” I say.
“I ordered the car,” Xavier says gruffly.
I sigh in relief.
“I’ll handle things with HR. Once we’ve sorted things out,” I say. “Masi, are you alright?”
He shakes his head, “No I-I can’t believe we have a scent match. No, no two matches.”
Laurent’s brows shot up and I could see the questions forming.
“Please, let’s hash this out in private. Then we need to check on Miss Hart and our new Master Perfumer.”
“How did Seb get involved?” Laurent asks.
“Cars here,” Xavier growls.
We slip out of the office long enough to enter the executive express elevator. Our armored limo is waiting for us in the private garage. It’s a Cadillac Escalade ESV Stretch Limo with bullet proof windows, reinforced body, run-flat tires, and a secret hidden compartment with weapons. With wealth and influence comes enemies and takers. Elite military specialists have trained me and the rest of the pack. Laurent has only been with us for two years. He trains off season and has a year to go before he’s done.
Though honestly, it’s time, we all brush up.
I put my hand on Laurent’s knee when he sits beside me. He’s the star of my hockey team, the New York Knights. I bought the team three years ago and he joined our pack not long after. We’d made it official less than a year later.
He’s the piece we were missing. It’s his desire for an Omega that led me to admit I’ve wanted one for a long time, but Xavier doesn’t. He had a terrible experience in his last pack and doesn’t want an Omega.
It took us six months to talk him into trying again. We agreed to take it as slow as he needs. As long as he doesn’t sabotage us. I don’t know what that’s going to look like. Judging by the smoke coming out of his ears, not well.
Traffic is heavy. Which means I have around eight minutes to summarize the story. Keeping my hand on Laurent’s knee, I give him an account of the events, starting with me entering Massimo’s office and ending with a near-panicked Veronica as she fled the office after Xavier barked at her.
I have a lot of smoothing over to do but pack comes first, and we need to get on the same page. The drive to the Penthouse in West Chelsea took exactly eight and a half minutes.
“I have questions?” Laurent says.
“Let’s get settled upstairs,” I say as the car pulls to a stop in front of our building.
We step into the private elevator and ride in tense silence. The scent markers clinging to each of us are a chaotic swirl: Xavier’s frustration, Laurent’s curiosity, my own confusion mixed with something I don’t even want to name yet.
The moment we enter the penthouse; Laurent breaks the silence. “Okay, now can someone explain how we ended up with not one, but two potential scent matches? That’s... rare, right?”
I head to the bar, pour myself a drink, then glance at the others. “Rare doesn’t begin to cover it.”
Massimo leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I didn’t even know I was reacting to Sébastien until he knelt beside Rowan. My nose was shot from allergies, and then ... boom. It hit me like a goddamn freight train.”
Laurent runs a hand through his hair. “Rowan, I get. I mean, I don’t get-get it, but I’ve followed her for years. But Sébastien?” He glances at me. “You didn’t tell me it was that Sébastien Ricci.”
Xavier’s brow lifts. “You know him?”
Laurent barks a dry laugh. “Know of him. I have every cologne he designed for companies in France. Hell, I have a signed bottle from his limited release in Grasse. The man’s a legend in scent design.” He pauses. “Didn’t realize he was an Omega.”
“Neither did we,” I mutter.
Xavier finally speaks, his voice lower than usual, more measured. “I’ve spent years imagining our Omega would be someone... calm. Predictable. Probably male. Maybe it was foolish, but I figured that would make everything easier. Controlled.”
Massimo lets out a soft sound that could almost be a laugh. “Since when have any of us done ‘easy’?”
“No,” Xavier admits, his jaw tightening. “But I wasn’t expecting to walk into a room and want to rip my own skin off just to be closer to her.”
We all go quiet again, each of us running our own internal calculations.
“I don’t think Rowan knows what she is,” Massimo says finally, voice softer than usual. “The scent, the way she looked. That wasn’t someone in control. She was terrified.”
“She thinks she’s a Beta,” I say, sipping the whiskey. “And right now, we need to treat her carefully. This isn’t just a new job for her. This is her entire world being turned upside down.”
Laurent tilts his head. “And Sébastien?”
Massimo exhales. “He was just showing up for work. A day late, sure, but he had no idea what he was walking into. I hired him. He’s our new master perfumer, not... this. And the plane's mechanical failure isn’t on him.”
“Not a scent match,” I say slowly, the words heavier than I mean them to be. “To her. To you. To us.”
Massimo nods, jaw tight. “Exactly. And the second he stepped into that office... instincts took over.”
There’s a long pause, the air in the penthouse thick with realization. None of us say what we’re all thinking, not right away.
Then I do.
“He’s one of ours.”
Massimo’s gaze flicks to mine. “So is she.”
The truth lands like a thunderclap, sudden and electric.
“Fuck,” Xavier mutters, dragging a hand over his face.
Laurent lets out a low whistle. “So... two scent matches. Two Omegas. One of them already works for us, and the other thinks she’s a Beta?”
“Exactly,” I say, voice hardening with resolve. “This is delicate. We don’t push. We don’t claim. We protect them. Let them come to us in their own time.”
Laurent frowns slightly. “So, we just... wait?”
I nod. “We wait. And we don’t fuck it up.”