Page 56 of Pack Larsen

She frowns and I smile, because that sentence alone has brought her back from the edge of panicking.

“Take a breath and pull your head out of your ass. You’ve got this, and we’ve got you, right? Anything happens in there, and we’ll burn the place down before we leave. Stick with us, and we’ll make sure that bitch doesn’t fuck with you. Now snap that backbone back into place, quit being a fucking chicken, and let’s get this shit-show on the road. Okay?” I tell her, my thumbs stroking gently over her cheeks while I do what I do best.

“You’re such an asshole,” she breathes, but, for the first time, it’s said with a huff of a laugh and a deep appreciation in those glittering, silver eyes. For the first time in all of my life, my shitty attitude and tough love approach actually works for someone, and Silver cups my hands over hers, takes a deep breath that I mirror, before she says, “Alright. Head’s out of any kind of orifice. Backbone is in place. Still a bit chicken, but fuck you, I’m allowed. Let’s do this shit.”

My mouth splits into a wide grin, and I echo, “Let’s do this.”

Rolling her shoulders back and chin raised like the baddie Aero calls her, Silver nods before she takes the first step toward the door. She grabs my hand before she disappears, and I stumble before following beside her, straightening in time for her to tuck her arm through mine. Snickering, the others follow, and I send them a snarl that has them wiping their grins away despite the amusement sparkling in each of their eyes. Dickheads.

I’m very aware of Silver as we step into the lavish home. So aware that I catch the moment she tenses, her whole body shuddering as she looks around at our surroundings. She frowns at several things, shaking her head and cringing at others, and I ask, “You good? Still got your head out of your ass?”

The pretty, little omega snorts and nods. “Yeah, just noting how many things have changed since I was here last.”

“You've been here before?” I ask quietly, conscious of my voice carrying through the echoing halls.

Silver flashes me an amused grin. “I lived here for sixteen years. We just stepped into my very own prison. Fun times.”

My mouth snaps shut at that, and I hold onto her a little tighter, a fury building in my chest as I look around with a new perspective. The walls are littered with photos of a pack that share similar features with Silver, several expensive decorative vases and ornaments placed on display units and such. It’s very minimalistic in style, but I would bet my life that just one thing in here would cost more than everything I own combined.

As a unit, we travel down a long hallway before we finally hear the first notes of a classical number playing from behind a set of heavy wooden doors carved with intricate designs.

Just before I reach out to push the door open, bracing myself for whatever hell we’re about to step into, I whisper to Silver, “Deep breaths, princess. We’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this,” she repeats with a firm nod.

All I can think of as I press on the door handle and open the door is that I hope I didn't just lie to the omega I want to claim as mine. It’s too late to back out now, though, because the door swings open suddenly, bringing with it the sound of classical music that filters into the hallway.

With one last look at one another, we all step into the room filled with expensively dressed partiers, waiters carrying silver trays of food, and a woman playing a harp to the left of an elevated stage that looks like it would be featured in a wedding venue magazine.

Fuck me, here goes nothing.

My eyes are taking in everything as we enter the massive ballroom decked out with white, gold, and silver banners, balloons, and fancy decorations that likely cost more than my entire outfit. The room is filled with people, several seated at round tables that border the empty dance floor, while clusters of people talk in groups with champagne glasses held in their perfectly manicured hands. Pretty sure those cost a fortune, too, the crystal sparkling under the warm fairy lights twinkling all across the ceiling.

Aero whistles quietly, breathing, “For a shitty person, she decorated the shit out of this room.”

Silver laughs loudly, drawing the attention of several groups chittering among themselves. Some smile and wave at her, and she offers the same in return, while some glare. My hackles rise at those assholes, and I lower our linked arms so I can entwine our fingers instead, holding her hand snugly in mine and vaguely noting how small her hand is compared to mine.

I feel Silver squeeze my hand and, without animosity or anger, something that seems to be on hiatus right now, she gently commands, “Don’t let it get to you. We’re surrounded with good and bad people, and I know which are which. Don’t give your energy to the assholes.”

“Should listen to your own advice,” I smart back, sending one dick with a rotund belly and a tux that barely fits his overhanging gut a scathing look that has him flushing red before turning his back to me.

Silver laughs again and pats my arm. “Trust me, I have and I still ended up here, holding your hand, feeling all kinds of conflicting things about you. Your brand of asshole is very different to theirs. Just trust that I know what I’m doing and, if I need you to knock someone out like you look like you’re itching to do, I’ll give you the bat signal to go ahead. Deal?”

Her goofiness and matching grin disarm me better than anything ever has, just as much as her words do. She’s feeling conflicting things for me? Does that mean there’s a chance of forgiveness?

Keeping my hopes bottled, I nod and clench my jaw instead, and she pats my arm again before pausing, her fingers playing with the silver cufflinks in my shirt sleeves that are poking out from beneath my jacket. “What are those?”

“Cufflinks,” I answer, swallowing hard, feeling like an idiot and praying she doesn’t ask to see them.

I’m not that lucky. She lifts my hand to check, and her mouth parts with a small, “Oh.”

Sure enough, she catches sight of the small princess tiara cufflinks I found while Pace took us to get our tuxedos measured. I bought them on a whim, and didn’t think I’d get close enough to Silver for her to actually see them. I’m fighting a damned blush now that she has, and I’m only saved by my embarrassment when Pace drops his hands to Silver’s bare shoulders and asks, “Shall we get a drink and find a table to sit at? Maybe meet this Meemaw of yours before the festivities begin?”

With her eyes still on my cufflinks, Silver nods and says, “Yeah, sure. I want to see Meemaw before I’m accosted by my mother anyway.”

“Sounds good, Sunshine. Lead the way,” Rage instructs, his own shrewd eyes eyeing the patrons in the massive ballroom like they’re the enemy. I mean, to him, they surely are, because his hangups are solely monetary based. It’s a miracle he got over it enough to give Silver an opening to wriggle her way into his heart and mind.

It takes her a second to do as told, rubbing her thumb over the cufflinks curiously, before she flashes me a look I can’t decipher and then leads us all to a free table two away from the stage. As soon as we’re seated, a waiter comes gliding toward us with a tray filled with full glasses of champagne, and Silver accepts two before either of us can take one and offer it to her.

---