Page 13 of Pack Obsession

I really hope he’s wrong. Because right now, three criminal Alphas feel like my best chance at freedom.

How fucked up is that?

Chapter

Five

LOGAN

Icheck the hallway one last time before entering the office. Old habits die hard—clear the space, secure the perimeter, maintain control. Some lessons you never unlearn, no matter how far you get from the battlefield.

Nash is pouring himself two fingers of aged whiskey from the crystal decanter on the mahogany sidebar. Axel paces near the window—the man never could stay still when his mind’s working overtime.

I lock the door and activate the security monitors. The main screen on the wall flickers to life, showing various angles of the house. My attention catches on the feed from the great room, where our unexpected complication is sprawled across the leather couch.

She’s kicked off her boots, one bare foot dangling over the armrest while she stares unseeing at some show. The TV light plays across features that belong on a surfboard advertisement—sun-kissed skin, high cheekbones, and white-blonde hair—but there’s steel under that beach-girl exterior. I saw it in the way she faced down three Alphas without flinching, in how she’s already planning her next move. She’s savvy and a survivalist, and I admire that so much in her.

"Well?" Nash breaks the silence, coming to study the screen too. "We doing this?"

I lean against my desk, crossing my arms. "It’s half a million dollars we will lose from Julian."

"Fuck." Axel stops pacing, running a hand through his hair. "That’s a good chunk of our retirement money."

"Julian’s already paid half," Nash adds, but there’s tension in his comment. "The rest on delivery."

"Return it." My response comes out like gravel. "All of it."

"Logan—" Nash starts, but I cut him off.

"You heard her out there. You saw her face when she talked about him." My fingers find the dog tags at my neck—not mine, but a reminder of promises kept and broken. Last time I didn’t trust my gut instinct, a close friend paid the price… My chest tightens. "We’re not sending her back to that."

"It’s not that simple." Nash sets his glass down on the other end of my table, then removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "This job could set us up. Fewer risky heists, no more walking the line between legal and... our jobs. We could finally be done."

"There are other missions we can take. There always will be." Axel drops into a chair, his expression dark. "But taking a leaf from Nash’s book, if we cross Julian Hayes, our reputation…"

"Fuck our reputation." The words come out sharper than intended. "And fuck Julian Hayes."

"He’ll retaliate," Nash points out. "Start asking questions about our business. About us. Send his goons after us until he’s won."

"Let him try." A smile pulls at my mouth, nothing pleasant about it. "Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve dealt with an entitled assholes who thinks money makes them untouchable."

On the screen, Casey shifts, pulling her knees up to her chest. It’s a defensive posture I’ve seen too many times in war zones—someone trying to make themselves smaller, less of a target. The bruise on her cheek stands out stark against her skin.

"Fine, so if we help her, then we need to be smart about this." Nash’s fingers tap against his desk. "Julian has connections. Real ones, not the paid-for kind. If we burn him, we need a plan."

"We always have a plan." Axel’s knuckles crack as he flexes his hands. "Usually several."

"Speaking of plans," Nash glances at the monitor. "Then what about her offer?"

"No." The word comes out automatically, Alpha-firm. "We’re not involving her in the heist."

"Hear me out. If you insist on not handing her over, maybe she might come in handy. The security at this place we’re going to hit... it’s not just about cameras and alarm systems. The human element is our biggest obstacle. But an Omega in distress? That changes the equation entirely."

"You want to use her as bait?" Axel asks, his brow furrowing.

"I want to consider all our options." Nash states, "You’ve seen how she handles herself. She’s not some pampered princess who’s going to fall apart under pressure."

"She also has no clue about how to pull off a heist." I push off the desk, pacing now myself. "One wrong move in there and?—"

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