Chapter 92
“Mr. Miller? Mr. Alistair Miller?” Someone calling my name filters through the rage clouding my mind.
How dare this motherfucker attack Sarah?
Whether she decides to join our pack or not is beside the point.
Rough hands grab me from behind before someone else shouts and I’m released.
I look around and see that Greg is holding Sarah, despite her struggles.
He’s singing quietly into her hair and rocking back and forth, trying to calm her down.
She looks angry at his efforts. Five large men surround Spencer where he’s sitting on the ground, and Paul is standing there with his hands up and his ID out.
Shit, how did things go sideways so damned fast?
“Pack Miller? Oh for goodness’ sake. You aren’t allowed to be in the center before filling out the proper forms…
though after this debacle, it’ll be a miracle if you’re allowed in at all.
I need you all to come back inside. Gregory, can you please bring Sarah inside as well?
I’ve already called the clinic; they’re sending someone over to look at her now as well as…
whoever that is.” The voice sounds more annoyed than horrified at what they just witnessed.
Maybe beating up random alphas is commonplace for our little firecracker.
Greg starts towards the building we all just ran out of, and Sarah flails harder.
His breath hitches in a sigh as he sets her down, keeping his arms out in case she loses her balance.
She leans in to give him a quick, reassuring hug before staggering over to Spencer and crawling into his lap, glaring daggers at the guards surrounding him.
His purr, unsurprisingly, builds to a loud rumble within moments as she curls into him and takes a deep breath against his chest. Despite the recent violence and tasers pointed at him, our resident giant smiles like an idiot and stands up, cradling Sarah as if she’s made of spun glass.
There’s whispered muttering from the guards surrounding us, and a gentle hand lands on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not sure how you got involved with this, but we’ll need to get a statement before you can return to your dorm.
” I round on the idiot beta standing behind me while Sarah cackles from her perch on Spencer.
The sound is broken and wheezing and quickly changes into a coughing fit.
I growl at the idiot in front of me, causing him to flinch back before I turn and march towards the visitor center to finish filling out our verification and pack registration paperwork.
Paul jogs to catch up with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Greg approach the befuddled-looking man who was speaking to me.
They talk quietly to each other for a few moments before the guard stares after us, confusion written plainly across his features.
Every single time, I swear.
Welcome back to Los Angeles.
Fuck.
We get back inside, and it’s something of a circus as we wait for the police to arrive so that Sarah can give a statement.
I busy myself filling out forms and getting copies made of all our licenses and pack registration, which is ironic because we brought new paperwork to have Sarah and Greg officially included in our pack.
It’s probably wishful thinking on our part, but Paul insisted.
His logic is sound, since she can’t really leave without permission from a guardian, and if she was part of our pack, we would legally be that.
Even though we all agree it would be in name only—our girl doesn’t need a guardian.
For shit’s sake, she’s older than Spencer.
Of course, if she decided she’d rather stay here, we would still extend the offer, so she has more freedom, but I know that we’re all hoping they want to return with us. She’s grown on me…like a fungus.
Spencer’s loud rumbling purr rattles across the lobby as he searches around for a large chair, finally settling on a long couch on the far side of the room.
Sarah is still curled into him with Greg on one side.
They talk quietly over her head while she snuggles closer, her hand reaching out to hold on to Greg’s shirt.
An obvious handprint-shaped bruise has already formed on the delicate skin of her throat, and the guards around us shift uneasily at a low rumbling growl that fills the room.
I send a chiding look towards Paul, as that’s the only person it could be coming from, but he’s staring agape at me, and it takes me a few moments to notice the vibration in my chest. Well, I guess I have more protective instincts than I knew about.
Collecting our identification cards from the woman behind the counter, I wave Paul over as I make my way across the room.
The pack registration paperwork is already filled out, despite the fact that we brought our own.
Apparently, they keep everything here as well and were able to print out a clean copy with all of Greg’s and Sarah’s information already on it.
It makes sense that they would have that option.
I’m guessing a lot of omegas find their packs while they’re here.
Without speaking, I pass their licenses back to Spencer and Paul, and hand the papers to sign over to Greg, allowing him to read through everything without adding any commentary to see what he thinks.
It’s a fairly standard registration, just legal documents stating that each person on the form would be a member of Pack Miller, signed and registered with me as the head of the family.
I would be happy if someone else wanted to take over my position, because it doesn’t really mean anything between the three of us.
If they want to change anything, I’m fine with that.
He reads through it a few times, lips moving as he traces the text with his fingers before looking at me, confused.
He taps Sarah on the shoulder, drawing her attention.
She looks over the paper in his hand, reading it several times before plucking it from his fingers.
Her eyes flip up, meeting mine, and her voice is a hoarse rasp.
“So…you want us to move to Mississippi? I don’t know, Teach.
That seems like you’re setting yourself up for trouble having me and Greg around.
” Her attempt at a snarky grin is marred by the pained grimace when she speaks.
She turns to look at Greg, handing him back the paper and making a “go-on” gesture with her hand as she settles back against Spencer’s chest, watching me closely.
Greg sounds more confused than snarky. “So…is this legit? I mean…you want us to come live with you? I hoped you’d want Sarah, but not everybody’s comfortable with a random beta. ”
She turns a hurt expression to her mate, but he just pats her hand before she can try to argue.
My breath comes out in a sigh as I lean forward, trying to take them both in.
“It’s whatever you want it for. I know how limiting it can get for omegas without pack support.
We don’t want you to be stuck doing something you don’t want, whether that’s staying here or moving in with us.
If you join our pack, you’ll have freedom to go wherever. ”
Sarah looks stricken as she pushes away from Spencer’s chest, and the big man almost whimpers with the distance.
Even Greg looks surprised at her reaction.
“I don’t need a pity pack.” Her voice is stronger now, but still rough and wheezy.
“If you want us, then great; if not, then you can keep it. And I don’t give a shit what Greg offered, he’s mine unless he wants to leave. So if you want me, he comes too.”
I nod along, expecting this, but her next words are more vulnerable, like she used up all her strength and is now laid bare.
“Do you not want us? I mean, I get it. I’m not exactly winning any prizes for being the best at omega-ing…
but am I really that bad?” Spencer starts mumbling into her hair as his arms tighten, pulling her close.
I don’t think she can hear him over his purr, though.
Paul is staring at me, a look of confusion on his face, while Greg just looks angry.
I don’t think it’s directed at me, but I feel the need to clarify, regardless.
“It’s not…you’re a fine omega.” Her loud snort in response sounds juicy and disgusting against Spencer’s shirt.
“We want you, but we don’t want you to feel like we’re your only option.
Does that make any more sense? Let’s be honest, Spencer is already madly in love with you.
Paul seems enamored as well…And I may…maybe, have grown a bit fond of having you around the house…
When you aren’t yelling at me in Spanish during Scrabble, anyway.
Plus, Greg is yours, we were already fully aware that you two are a matched set, like some kind of batshit-crazy bookends. Just having one won’t work.”
Sarah studies my face, as if she’s not sure if she can trust the offer, and as many times as this girl has gotten screwed over by people she should have been able to trust, that’s understandable.
She watches me closely as Greg takes the pen I offer and signs the paperwork, officially becoming part of Pack Miller.
I’m not sure what she’s looking so hard for; she doesn’t even break eye contact when she scribbles her own name on the line and passes it over.
Did she expect me to pull out a noisemaker and yell that we were only joking?
Was she watching for some pained expression to cross my face at the idea of being legally tied to her?