Chapter 32 Griff
GRIFF
The storm's getting worse. The wind's howling louder, and even with the fireplaces working, the temperature in the building is dropping. People are bundling closer together, and the romantic tension that Beverly mentioned is becoming impossible to ignore.
Near the largest fireplace, I can see Pack Sunrise huddled together in a pile that's definitely more intimate than typical pack behavior. The alpha's got his arms around two omegas, and they're all pressed together in a way that suggests their heat cycles are syncing up from stress.
Stonefen Pack has claimed the fireplace in the smaller sitting room, and they're doing that low-level purring thing that packs do when they're settling in for extended nesting. The sound is actually kind of soothing, until you realize it means they're planning to stay put for a long time.
And Redtooth Pack is still running their compatibility experiments, but now they've got a line of people waiting to participate. Rebecca's got a whole system going with numbered cards and what appears to be a timer.
"NEXT!" Rebecca calls out, consulting her clipboard. "We need a beta male, aged twenty-five to thirty-five, with preference for mountain living and tolerance for aggressive pack hierarchies!"
A guy I don't recognize raises his hand tentatively. "I... I think that might be me?"
"Excellent! Please proceed to Station Beta for scent compatibility analysis with our omega Jennifer. She enjoys hiking, baking, and has a slight preference for possessive alphas!"
Jennifer waves enthusiastically from behind a table covered in what looks like scientific equipment. Or possibly just kitchen supplies repurposed for matchmaking. It's hard to tell the difference at this point.
That's when the pack politics really start getting out of hand.
"EXCUSE ME!" A voice booms across the main hall with the subtlety of a fog horn. "WE HAVE THE BIGGEST NESTING ROOM ON THE NORTH COAST!"
I turn to see Alpha Derek Thornmark standing on a chair like he's addressing troops before battle. He's a massive guy with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of presence that usually commands respect. Right now, he looks like he's lost his damn mind.
"Pack Thornmark offers premium accommodations!" he continues, gesturing toward the staircase like he's a real estate agent. "Our suite features panoramic mountain views, luxury bedding, and optimal temperature control!"
Within seconds, there's a stampede. Twenty omegas surge toward the stairs like it's Black Friday and Derek's offering the last discounted TV. I watch in horror as they push past startled alphas and betas, their survival instincts apparently overriding all social niceties.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, pushing through the crowd to get to the stairs before someone gets trampled.
"WAIT!" Another voice shouts from across the room. "Pack Blackridge has superior accommodations!"
Alpha Nico Moretti has positioned himself near the windows, surrounded by his pack members like they're a sales team.
"We can smell compatibility from across the treeline!
" he announces with the confidence of someone who's definitely lost touch with reality.
"Scientific approach to pack formation! Guaranteed optimal matches! "
I watch in fascination as six confused omegas and what appears to be the UPS driver who got caught in the storm slowly gravitate toward the Blackridge group. The UPS driver looks particularly bewildered, clutching his delivery tablet like it might protect him from whatever's happening.
"Sir," the driver says hesitantly, "I just need to deliver this package and get back to my truck..."
"Nonsense!" Derek declares, throwing an arm around the guy's shoulders. "You have excellent scent compatibility with our omega Sarah! This is clearly fate!"
Sarah, a young woman who looks like she'd rather be anywhere else, gives the driver an apologetic smile. The driver looks like he's questioning every life choice that led him to this moment.
But the real spectacle is happening near the fireplace.
"ATTENTION UNMATED INDIVIDUALS!" Alpha Rebecca Redtooth has apparently declared war on subtlety. She's standing next to a hastily constructed chart that looks like something out of a military planning session. "Redtooth Pack is officially commencing Operation Omega Hunt!"
Operation Omega Hunt. I can't make this shit up.
"Phase One involves snowshoe reconnaissance!" Rebecca continues, pointing to a diagram that suggests she's been planning this for months. "Phase Two includes compatibility tracking with hot cocoa bribes! Phase Three..."
"Rebecca," I interrupt, pushing through the crowd that's gathered to watch this trainwreck. "Maybe we should focus on basic survival before we start looking for anything?"
"Survival IS the hunt, Griffin!" she replies with the intensity of someone who's watched too many nature documentaries. "Crisis situations reveal true compatibility! We're simply facilitating natural selection with modern efficiency!"
Her pack members are distributing snowshoes to confused guests while someone's set up a hot cocoa station complete with marshmallows and what appears to be a sign-up sheet for "compatibility testing."
It's terrifying and slightly adorable, and I'm not sure which part disturbs me more.
I'm starting to think Beverly might be right about the crisis bonding thing. Everyone's acting like they're preparing for extended hibernation, and the scent of stressed hormones and pack bonding is getting thick enough to cut with a knife.
That's when my phone rings.
I look at the caller ID and see Logan's name, which is weird because Logan's supposed to be right here dealing with heating issues.
"Logan?" I answer, stepping away from the crowd for some privacy.
"Griffin." His voice is tight with something I can't immediately identify. "I need you upstairs. Now."
"What's wrong? Did the heating system fail completely?"
"No, it's..." Logan pauses, and I can hear him take a deep breath. "It's Savannah. She's in heat."
The bottom drops out of my stomach. "What?"
"She's been helping coordinate sleeping arrangements upstairs, and about twenty minutes ago her scent shifted. She's locked herself in one of the guest rooms, but Griff... the whole second floor smells like her heat cycle. Every unmated alpha in the building is going to catch it soon."
I look around the main hall, at the two hundred guests who are already acting on heightened instincts, at the packs that are clustering together and getting territorial, at the compatibility experiments and romantic tension that's been building all afternoon.
"Fuck," I breathe into the phone.
"Yeah," Logan agrees grimly. "Fuck."
I straighten up, already knowing I'm not going to like whatever comes next. Everything in me goes still. My pulse spikes, then tunnels into one single thought: not here. Not with them.
"Not with these fucking crazed alphas around, she's not," I snap, already moving toward the stairs. "Let's get to her. Now."