4. Chloe
CHAPTER 4
CHLOE
“I’m going to kill you.” I glared at Titus.
“Nah, you love me.”
“You did not just tell him that. People are going to get the wrong idea. Like they are going to have to get my approval to get into your stupid pack.”
“No. That’s why it’s a brilliant idea. I trust your judgment.”
I rage bit into my sandwich. Right into that perfect spot. It was still tasty, but it would have been better if everything didn’t look and taste like the little pocket of peace I’d managed to build for myself here was all about to come crumbling down into the dust.
I sighed and dropped my sandwich back onto my plate.
“That guy was absolutely wet for you.”
“A lot of them are like that.” Titus frowned, like dealing with his own hotness was a real problem for him.
I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t want to help you form your pack.” I thrust my plastic fork into my salad, though my poor lunch did nothing to deserve my wrath. Angrily swirling the romaine leaves around in the caesar dressing.
“Well, that’s why you are perfect for it. Since you don’t actually care about my pack, the guys will really have to stand out for you to say something nice about any of them.”
“But that means I am going to be drowning in all the alphas who want to get into your pack. Do you think that I want that?” I took a bite, angry that it was delicious.
Great, now I was mad at my salad.
“I can’t believe that you’re complaining about me getting you loads of attention from guys.”
“I can’t believe that you’re doing this to me.” I muttered.
“Come on, Chloe. Give me your honest feedback on the guys. No one is better at calling out bullshit than you are. You wouldn’t want me to end up with a pack full of assholes?”
I chewed my salad thoughtfully. Did I trust Titus’s judgment in picking his own pack?
Obviously not.
If Dorian was being honest and that was an example of Titus’s top choice, then yes my brother was in for a world of problems. Titus would probably make a pack with a literal psychopath, torturing omegas and making everyone generally miserable. Or stuff his pack full of the hottest guys who somehow all had the absolute worst emotional baggage.
“Fine,” I huffed.
“You’re the best.”
“And you’re the worst.”