Chapter 21
GRACE
Iwait for Charlotte at the curb outside our apartment building with my hands buried in the pockets of my faded hoodie.
Even in late July, the early morning air is slow to take a hint.
A city bus coughs past. The exhaust curls between the old brownstones, mixing with the roses on my skin and the distant, earthy musk of the river.
It’s early enough that most of the Reverie cast is still asleep, or pretending they aren’t hung over after last night’s cast party post-show.
The building’s front door opens and Charlotte emerges with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She spots me and waves as she jogs down the stairs to meet me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” We hug and then start walking toward the arena. “Ready to kill it?”
She grins. “If by ‘kill it’ you mean ‘try not to eat it on a double loop,’ then yes, absolutely.”
“You should get credit just for showing up. Half the cast is still in REM.”
She laughs, but then her smile tightens. I follow her gaze, and I see why.
Up the block, three figures stride in loose formation—predators playing at nonchalance. It’s Charlton Pack. Tanner, Chris, and Evan, alpha-entitlement incarnate.
Charlotte curses under her breath.
“We can cut through the alley,” I suggest.
Charlotte squares her shoulders. “No. I’m so tired of letting them change my route in all things. I just want to walk to practice without being—”
“Hunted?” I offer, and it’s supposed to be a joke, but Charlotte’s hand tightens on the strap of her bag.
“Yeah,” she says.
We keep our heads down and our eyes forward. The prickle of their attention slips down my body like I’ve walked into a massive spiderweb.
“Hey, Charlotte!” Tanner calls. His voice is fake-friendly, not even trying to hide intent.
I meet Chris’s eyes. He’s trying to give me a don’t-get-involved look. Unfortunately for him, I don’t intimidate easily.
We walk past without addressing them. But then they follow us. Not running, but keeping the pace, just close enough that it’s clear they’re not giving up today.
“Come on,” I mutter, and steer Charlotte with a light hand on her elbow.
The arena’s only across one street and massive parking lot, but it feels longer with them at our backs. It’s like a tripwire tension running under every step. Charlotte’s steps get faster, but not frantic. She’s not going to give them the satisfaction.
At the crosswalk, Evan calls out, “Hey, you can focus on your career all you want, Charlotte.”
“We’ll be here waiting when you’re ready,” Tanner adds.
“No pressure,” Evan finishes.
Charlotte finally wheels around. “No pressure? What do you call this?” She gestures wildly at them. “You three should be lucky I haven’t gotten a restraining order yet. Fuck off!”
Tanner grins cruelly. It raises my hackle. I step between Charlotte and them.
Evan and Chris laugh. Evan says, “I hope your alpha’s nearby again to diffuse this.” His gaze lifts to Charlotte’s. “Hiding behind another omega’s alpha is pretty low, Charlotte.”
Rage simmers but I take long breaths to keep it down. I know I might smell like Reverie Pack’s omega, but I’m not her. Not yet—maybe not ever.
I put a hand behind me to push Charlotte backward and start walking, so I don’t have to turn my back to them. “Just go, Charlotte. We have better things to do.”
Tanner, Evan, and Christopher step closer as a unit. “We just want to talk to her.”
“Sadly, she wants nothing to do with you,” I snap. “Although I can see why.”
Tanner snarls. “You don’t speak for her.”
Charlotte pulls me along. “I’ll call the police if you don’t leave me the fuck alone. Go away.”
Christopher’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t. After all our history?”
Charlotte pulls out her phone. “I’ll do it right now.”
That’s enough to get them to pause. I keep moving Charlotte back to put more distance between us. They seem physically harmless despite always appearing where no one wants them. Like they’d not actually move on a real threat. But that doesn’t make me feel any better about any of this.
“Fine,” Tanner says. “But you’re ours, don’t forget it.” His gaze cuts to mine. “No matter whose omega tries to protect you.”
I move to close the distance and swing—to show these alpha dicks that an omega raised in Boston doesn’t need anyone to protect her—but Grace holds me back. Charlton Pack laughs in my face and then retreats. They’re gone from sight before Charlotte can calm me down.
“It’s okay, Grace,” she says.
I level her with a glare. “It’s not. You should call the police and get a restraining order.”
Charlotte nods. “You’re right.”
I pull her in and hug her tight. “You can stay at my place again, okay? And I can go with you to the police if you want.”
“I’ll handle it,” Charlotte says. “They’re not my alphas, but they’ve been my problem for years.”
“But not anymore, right?” I’ll make sure she gets that order. Charlton Pack doesn’t own Charlotte. No alpha simply owns an omega because of a scent-match alone. No matter how much they may want to.
Charlotte nods. “Not anymore. Come on, let’s get to the arena and start practicing.”
She moves first. I watch her go, see the way she squares her shoulders and jaw. I recognize the compartmentalization when I see it.
But I won’t let Charlotte run from this. We’ll deal with Charlton Pack together.