Page 35 of Pack Obsession

"Just admiring the decor." I aim for casual but miss by several miles. My words shake slightly, and I know he catches it. "Very murder-chic. Though the lighting’s a bit harsh. Maybe some candles? Fairy lights? Really soften up the wholetorture chambervibe."

"You’re late." He steps into the room, dropping the bag with a metallic clank that makes me jump. "And breaking rules. What do you think the punishment should be?"

I force a laugh, though it comes out more like a squeak. "Nothing? We could call it even for the whole kidnapping thing. Or maybe time served for good behavior?"

His grin is slow, predatory, sending heat curling through my stomach despite my fear. Or because of it. He moves past me to unzip the bag, and the scent of gun oil and manly Alpha fills the small space, making my head spin.

"Casey, come here."

"I’m good, thanks." I take a step back and bump into a shelf. Something metallic rattles.

"Casey." His command threads through his words like steel wire. "Come. Here."

My feet move before my brain can object. Stupid Omega instincts. Stupid Alpha voice. Stupid everything.

"Know what this room is?" He asks as I approach, his attention never leaving mine.

"Your personal Dexter cosplay space? Though you’re giving off more Patrick Bateman vibes with the whole tech-bro aesthetic."

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. The sound raises the hair on my neck.

"Storage. For things that keep us and our clients safe." He straightens and moves closer to me in the cramped space. His scent wraps around me, intoxicating, leaving me inhaling the dark chocolate and sea salt scent deeper. "See anything you like? Anything you want to try?"

I blink, thrown by the question. "Wait, you want to give me something? Not punish me?"

"We’re going hunting soon." His fingers brush my arm, barely there but sending electricity through my skin. "If you want to take a blade with you, you’re welcome to."

"Are you insane? I’m not hunting you with a knife." The very idea makes my stomach turn. Despite everything, despite the room full of evidence that these men are dangerous, the thought of hurting them feels wrong.

"Not saying to use it on me, sugar." The endearment slides like honey over broken glass. His hand moves to my lower back, guiding me closer to the display. "But if you’re going to break rules, you might as well learn to handle what you find."

I swallow hard as he reaches past me and pulls a knife from its display. The blade catches the light, looking wicked sharp and beautiful in a deadly way. It’s as long as my palm, so not large at all, the handle black smooth leather.

"Besides," he adds softly, pressing the handle into my palm, his chest against my back as he shows me how to grip it properly. "Sometimes, the most dangerous things are the ones that look harmless."

His breath fans against my neck as he adjusts my fingers on the handle, and I can’t help wondering…

Is he talking about the weapon in my hand or the Omega in his arms?

And which of us is more likely to draw blood first?

Chapter

Eleven

LOGAN

The woods breathe around me. Early morning mist clings to the ground, wrapping around tree trunks. Every sense heightens as I move through the forest—the smell of damp earth, pine needles crunching silently under my boots, branches swaying overhead.

Movement catches my attention, a flash of blonde through the trees. She’s learning, moving from cover to cover, but her white-blonde hair betrays her in the morning light. I shift deeper into shadow, keeping an eye on her. She tilts her head, scenting the air, and something primal stirs in my chest. The Omega hunting her Alpha. The thought shouldn’t be as intoxicating as it is.

She’s got good instincts, I’ll give her that. Keeps the wind in her face and moves quietly, despite her lack of training. Stubborn pride made her refuse the knife I offered at first, but after my persistence, she took it, insisting on leaving it in her room and not on this hunt. Fine by me to give her a weapon to use if she needs it.

I circle around, using the terrain to mask my movement. The forest floor slopes here, creating natural hollows perfect for concealment. She passes within ten feet of my position,completely unaware. The urge to reach out, to grab her, to show her how vulnerable she is, wars with the desire to let her continue tracking me. To see what she’ll do.

Her scent drifts to me on the breeze—sweet peaches and spring flowers, with that underlying sweetness that’s been growing stronger each day. My fingers dig into bark as I fight the instinct to inhale deeply. Tactical error, letting her perfume affect me like this, but damn if I can help it.

A branch snaps somewhere to my left. Not Casey—she’s still in front of me, crouching to examine something on the ground. Probably the mark I deliberately left. Smart girl, picking up on the signs. But the sound...

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