Chapter 59
chapter
fifty-nine
I giggle as I fluff Serena’s skirt out, tossing a handful of tulle out of our limo.
She casts me a dark look that reminds me of her MMA fighter mate. “Thanks,” she adds flatly. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
I feel exactly the opposite, actually. After receiving a collection of scorching hot pictures and downing half a bottle of champagne at the salon, I doubt much could put a damper on my mood.
I’m here. At a society event. In this beautiful dress that one of… one of my alphas had made…
…with my pack.
The venue is every bit as modern and gorgeous as the day Meg and I toured it last summer. With the enormous windows and the timing of the gala, I knew we’d be perfectly poised to capitalize on this glorious sunset—and I was right.
Golden blush and tangerine-tinted lavender pour across the sky as we step onto the pavement. I tilt my head back, smiling to myself. Giddy. Genuinely overjoyed.
And… proud.
Of myself.
I look around at the beautiful building, my amazing friends dressed to the nines. The row of ultra-luxury vehicles queuing to valet behind us.
This is a really big deal .
My happiness only sails higher when we hit the “pink carpet” leading to the entrance.
Paparazzi and our own event photographers clamor for group shots of us.
Remi fusses with Meg’s strap while her twin adjusts the butterfly clipped into Remi’s bun.
Emma grins at me, holding out her hand. When I take it, she surprises me with a twirl and a dip that leaves us both laughing for the camera flashes.
We accommodate every photographer’s requests. Even, surprisingly, a couple who want pictures of me alone. And not one of them calls me the Fake Fiancée.
Once they’re finished, we hurry into the building’s grand, glass-and-gold lobby. Anticipation sparkles through my body as we step toward the row of doors across from the entrance. I know they lead to the event space, and I can’t wait to see the guys.
My pack , I think again.
Our alphas , my Omega adds, shoving me hard.
Urgently. Almost as if something is?—
All the girls pause at the same moment. Meg throws her arm in front of me, freezing as she tilts her head. Listening, I realize. Hearing something I can’t through her bonds.
Behind me, Serena spits a vicious curse, and Remi gasps. But still, I don’t understand that there’s a situation. Not until Emma’s hand scrambles to find mine, squeezing hard.
I turn to her crest-fallen face. “Bridget,” she whispers, bone-pale.
“What?” I ask, wide-eyed. Looking at each of them in turn. “Did something happen? I don’t have an internal observation deck, so one of you better tell me what you’re?—”
The rattle of one set of double doors shoving open cuts me off. Four alphas—one from each of their packs—come rushing out. Meg’s quarterback, Declan. Emma’s fireman, Micah. Serena’s huge former-linebacker, Jonah. And Remi’s broody goalie, Cassian.
They all look distinctly on edge. And relieved to get their hands on their omegas.
Cassian strides right over to Remi, cupping her face in his palms. Their eyes lock, and he barely has time to snap her into his arms before she starts to cry.
Jonah gazes at Serena with a similarly pained expression. “ Manamea ,” he whispers. Just one word, but her lips wobble before blazing anger snaps over her features. “No,” she asserts, stomping her heel on the marble floor. “ No .”
Her alpha sighs at the pleading note in her denial, pulling her close. Declan silently steps into Meg’s back, clenching his jaw as he wraps a solid arm around her. Holding her up, I realize. Because she’s so upset, she’s swaying .
Micah tries to embrace Emma, too, but she throws him off with a small, pained sound. Wrapping her arms around me instead.
Clinging to me like?—
Like she’s holding me together .
Which is the moment reality finally sinks in.
Oh .
This is about me .
But no one explains what’s happening. Or why. They all just stare at me. Grimacing or frowning or—in Remi’s case—sobbing.
I feel tears drip from Emma’s cheeks into my hair. And a strange sort of certainty sinks into my center.
Oh , I think again. Right. Of course.
“Say it,” I whisper to my best friend. “Tell me.”
She tries. I feel her inhale and fight for the words. But, in the end, it’s Micah. Stepping forward and placing his hand on Emma’s back. Leveling me with his dark, sympathetic eyes. Admitting, “Bridget, your— the Messina Pack…”
And, with that one small correction, I already know. I know .
“They were here, waiting for you, and Jesse snapped into a rut,” Micah finishes. “Because their mate is in there.”