Page 14 of Pack Obsession

"Maybe Nash is onto something. We train her." Axel leans forward, intense. "Give her the basics, see how she handles it. If she can’t cut it, fine. But if she can..."

"We keep it professional." Nash shrugs, but there’s something careful in his tone. "She needs protection, and we need a distraction. Simple transaction to make up for the one we are about to lose."

I glance at the monitor again. Nothing simple about this situation. Especially not the way Axel keeps watching her onthe screen or how Nash’s usual tactical detachment reveals his protective edge.

"Nexus is another concern," I say, redirecting. "They’ll be looking for her, too."

"More reason to keep her close." Nash takes another sip of his drink. "We can hide her movements better if we know where she is. And our security systems are better than anything they’ve got."

"You’re taking her side now?" There’s no heat in my words. Nash has always had a soft spot for strays, even if he pretends otherwise.

"I’m taking the side of not getting our asses handed to us by corporate security because we tried to strong-arm our way past trained guards in the past, and it backfired." He pulls up files on his laptop; I assume information on the heist. "These guys guarding the building are ex-military, Logan. They won’t fall for standard tactics."

"But they’ll fall all over themselves to help a distressed Omega," Axel finishes. "Especially one who looks like that."

I shoot him a look, but he just grins, unrepentant. "Focus."

"I am damn focused on solving our problem. Give her two weeks of training. If she can’t handle it, we find another way. If she can..." He shrugs. "We get our payday without anyone dying, and she gets protection from Julian. Everyone wins."

"Except Julian, and us not getting that paycheck from him," Nash adds dryly.

"As I said, fuck Julian," I say firmly. "We’ll get more jobs. And from the moment we met up with him, we all agreed—there was always something off about him."

I study the monitors again. Casey shifted, curled into the corner of the couch now. Even through the camera, I spot the tension in her shoulders and the way she turns her head toward the exits. Training tells me that’s good situational awareness.Something primal inside me wants to remove whatever put that wariness there.

"Two weeks," I say finally. "We test her abilities, her commitment. First sign of trouble, we abort her joining us on the heist." That will give us enough time to better understand her situation and what we’re dealing with.

"Agreed," Nash says, shoving his phone into his back pocket. "I’ll start background checks and see what else we can dig up on her. And Julian."

"I’ll handle the training schedule." Axel stands, stretching. "Hand-to-hand first, then basic evasion techniques."

"No." Something in my tone makes them both look over. "We’ll handle her together, each of us training her in something different to see how she reacts."

They exchange looks but don’t argue. They know that tone—the one that says I’m not just speaking as their friend but as the Alpha who’s kept us alive through worse situations than this.

"Nash." He glances up. "Move her to the east wing guest room. Better security, more comfort."

"Going soft, old man?" But he’s already pulling up the house systems back on his phone.

"Professional courtesy." The words taste like a lie. Nothing professional about the way my instincts react when she’s near. "We’re not animals."

Axel watches the screen, where Casey’s finally dozed off, her features softened in sleep. "We’re three Alphas taking in a runaway Omega with a psychotic ex while planning a major heist and probably starting a war with one of the most powerful men in the city." He grins, wild and sharp. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Everything. Everything could go wrong. As I watch her curl tighter into herself, something in my chest tightens. The same instinct that kept me alive through three tours screamsthat this girl needs protection—real protection, not a business arrangement.

I reach for my dog tags again, remembering the last time I ignored those instincts. The price paid in blood and regret.

Not this time.

Axel and Nash file out without another word, but I linger, watching the screen where Casey stirs, her hand reaching unconsciously for something to hold on to and finding nothing.

Just for a little while, I tell myself. Just until we figure out a better solution. Just until she’s safe.

As I finally head out of my office, I stroll back to the main room and into the hallway, shoulder against the frame, taking time to really observe our unexpected complication.

Casey hasn’t moved from the couch, but there’s nothing relaxed in her posture. Her eyes are open. Her fingers trace patterns on the leather arm, seemingly idle movements that I recognize as someone mapping escape routes. The TV flickers, casting shadows across features that hold too much wariness for someone so young. Every few minutes, her head turns to the windows, to the doors, and back to where I stand. Never still, never letting her guard down.

It’s the shadows under her eyes that hold my attention—the kind that speak of too many nights worrying, maybe crying, too many days looking over her shoulder. I’ve seen that look before in places where peace was another lie people told themselves.

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