“I am merely stating facts,” Knox says, his voice dry. “You have a reputation to maintain, Fallon. If people start seeing you home alone on weeknights, they might think you’ve lost your touch.”
“My touch is intact, thank you very much. I’m just… taking a breather.” I pause the game finally, setting the controller on my lap and twisting around to look at him. “Besides, we shouldgo out soon. The three of us. It’s been a while since we hit a bar together. Maybe we can find a nice Omega, bring her home. Remind ourselves why we’re the top pack in town.”
Knox sets his glass down with a clink. The easy atmosphere in the room evaporates instantly. His face shuts down, that unreadable mask slipping into place.
“I’m not interested,” he says flatly.
“Come on, Knox. Don’t be like that.” I swing my legs off the couch, planting my feet on the rug. “It’s been months. We work, we sleep, we repeat. We used to have fun. Remember Portland?”
Knox turns away, staring at the dark window. “Portland was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, and we were legends. Three Alphas, one objective. It was electric.” I stand up, walking over to the island. “Why are you so against it?”
“Do you have a problem satisfying women on your own?” He grunts.
“Why don’t you join in and see? Then you’ll understand why I keep the fridge stocked with Gatorade. C’mon. We no longer have to worry about the restaurant going under. We’re doing well. We should totally go out and celebrate. Show us you still know how to get down.”
I say it with a grin, teasing, trying to get a rise out of him. It usually works.
Knox turns back to me, his eyes cold. “I can satisfy a woman just fine, Fallon. You know that. I have no desire to prove anything to you or anyone else.”
“Then what is it?” I grab an apple from the fruit bowl, tossing it in the air. “Don’t you miss it?”
“It’s not just sex, and you know it,” Knox says, his voice dropping an octave. “This is a small town, Fallon. Things get complicated very fast here when we start bedding the locals. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone talks.”
“Who cares about talk?” I take a bite of the apple, the crunch loud in the quiet room. “Let them talk.”
“I care about the restaurant.” Knox steps closer, his intensity radiating off him. “I care about this pack. We have a rule for a reason. A very good reason.”
The rule. Just the mention of it makes the air feel heavy.
Years ago, in Portland, when we were younger, stupider, and fueled by ego and adrenaline, we thought we were invincible. We thought we could share everything.
And we did. We shared Omegas like they were appetizers, passing them around, enjoying the thrill of the group dynamic.
Until it wasn’t thrilling anymore.
First, there was Angela. She was sweet, soft-spoken, and she fell hard. The problem was, she didn’t fall for all of us. She fell for Eli.
She looked at him like he hung the moon, and while she tolerated us to be near him, the imbalance created a friction we hadn’t expected.
Eli got attached. Knox got possessive of the pack’s equilibrium. And I… I just felt like a third wheel in my own dynamic. It ended in tears, a shouting match in the kitchen, and Angela leaving with a broken heart.
Then came Mary. She was the polar opposite—witty, calculating, and manipulative. She knew exactly how to play us.
She pitted us against each other, whispering in Knox’s ear that I was mocking him, telling me that Eli was planning to leave. She nearly destroyed the friendship that built this business.
We didn’t speak for two weeks. If we hadn’t realized what she was doing before we signed the lease for this place, Blade & Butter wouldn’t exist.
“We made a vow,” Knox says, his eyes boring into mine. “Never let an Omega come between the pack.Jamais.Noemotional connections. No permanent relationships. We’re friends first, business partners second, and Alphas third. That is the order of operations.”
“I know the rule, Knox. I helped write it.” I finish the apple, tossing the core into the trash. “But that doesn’t mean we have to be monks. It’s just sex. Physical release. It doesn’t have to get complicated. We keep it casual. We keep it distant. No sleepovers, no breakfast, no promises.”
“Sex is rarely just sex for us,” Knox argues, though his tone loses a fraction of its edge. He looks tired. “We are a pack. When we come together, it’s intense. It consumes people. If we start dragging locals into that, we risk the balance of this town. We risk the reputation of the restaurant. I will not jeopardize what we’ve built here for a few hours of pleasure.”
“I think you’re overthinking it.” I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms. “But fine. Have it your way. You go focus on your chess set and your cookbooks. I’ll just sit here and wither away.”
“Ne sois pas têtu.It’s better that way.”
