Page 58 of Pack Obsession

I bark out a laugh. “Three Alphas with broken pasts turned high-stakes thieves sharing an Omega? Fuck no.” Sharing an Omega has never been an issue between us, and I’m ready to have one of our own.

“And yet...” Logan lets the thought hang.

“...she looks at us like we’re something for her to solve,” I finish.

“She’s brilliant. Completely fucking eager to take on any challenge, too. You should have seen her in the woods during our training. Spectacular. But then we have–”

“Julian,” I growl, and the name sits between us like poison.

Logan’s expression darkens. “Three missed calls from that piece of shit just today.”

“He’s going to be a massive problem.” I stare out at the bright full moon, my mind already spinning through scenarios. “The connections he has... Nash did some digging. They’re not the kind you walk away from easily.”

“Then we eliminate the problem.” Logan’s voice drops into that flat, military tone.

We ride in silence for a moment, both lost in thought, anticipation of getting home for Casey eating me alive. Logan clears his throat.

“Speaking of threats... back to the heist.”

“Yeah?”

“The risk–” Logan starts.

“Is too fucking high,” I finish. “Not with an Omega we care about, I don’t know if I want her to get hurt.”

His smirk is knowing. “We’re all so far gone over her, it’s actually kind of pathetic.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. We both know it’s true.

Logan takes another turn, this time onto our private road. The trees crowd close, their shadows dancing in the headlights.

“You know what’s really pathetic? How fast we dropped everything when Nash called.”

“As if you wouldn’t have killed him if he didn’t tell you immediately.”

“True.” Logan’s grin is wolfish as he rounds the final bend. The house comes into view, warm lights glowing in the upstairs windows. Home. And somewhere inside...

Gravel sprays as Logan brings the SUV to a halt right at the front door. We’re out of the car in seconds, moving like demons to get inside.

I take the stairs two at a time, Logan right behind me, until Nash appears at the top landing. There’s something unusual about him, something in his expression that makes me pause. His hair’s a mess, his t-shirt is wrinkled like he just pulled it on, and his scent... fuck.

He had sex!

Jealousy twists inside… no hatred for him but that it hadn’t been me.

He presses a finger to his lips. “She’s sleeping,” he whispers, and that one sentence carries so much weight I almost stagger.

Logan mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously likelucky bastardas we follow Nash back downstairs to the kitchen. The familiar space feels charged somehow like everything’s shifted just slightly left of normal.

Logan heads straight for the fridge, grabbing three beers. The bottles clink as he sets them on the counter, the sound oddly loud in the quiet kitchen. Nash leans against the marble countertop, and that satisfied grin hasn’t left his face.

“You fucked her,” I state. Not a question. I know that look.

Nash’s grin widens, showing teeth. “Nothing in my life compares. Nothing.” He accepts the beer Logan slides his way. “The way she responded, the trust in her eyes... fuck, I wish I had better words for it.”

“That good, huh?” Logan downs half his beer in one go, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“A hundred times better.” Nash runs a hand through his disheveled hair, making it stand up even more. He shakes his head. “She’s different. She’s everything.”

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