"I shouldn't have let my pack into the position we found ourselves in. I definitely shouldn't have let you be affected likethis. I'm so sorry. Er, but I have some colleagues, trustworthy colleagues, I can reach out to if you still need support."
She holds up a hand, frowning and sniffing the air. She makes a sour face and flinches away. Her brow puckers, then something like understanding flashes across her expression, quickly followed by exasperation. She drops her forehead into her hands.
"You've gotta be kidding me."
She mumbles something under her breath. My brow furrows. It almost sounded like she was… swearing? She runs her thumb over her temple and leans her head towards the mezzanine.
"DelliEEEEEE! Get your gorgeous arse down here right this fucking second, babes!"
The nasal, shrill voice that rings out of her chest is, suddenly,notLauren Treloar. At least, not the one from the movies. Wait. Did she just say—
Seb blinks. "… you're not… no." He barks out a laugh. "No, wait. No way! Are you…? Loz? Like, Dellie's Loz?"
She snorts wryly. "You must be the North Shore fucker."
And then… it's there. Freesias. They're faint, slightly sour, perhaps a little singed around the edges, but they're there.
It's her.
I'm standing. I don't remember standing.
There's a wet splat from upstairs.
Then a strange whooshing pulses in my ears, along with the quiet mutter of "for fuck's sake, not on the fucking carpet."
I look up. She's there, on the mezzanine, her face pale, her mouth hanging open. She looks like she's seen a ghost. Like how an omega looks before she runs.
But she's not running. She's still. She's shaking like a leaf, but she's not fleeing.
Ralph finds his voice first. Relief surges down the bond. "… Dellie?"
She licks her lips. "Ralph?"
He stands. "Dellie… Adeline?" He runs his hand through his hair, then freezes as he looks at her.
Her gaze flicks between us. "What… what are… Oh. Oh!" She sighs, shaking her head. "Pack Xerxes. You're Pack X, aren't you?"
I nod, unable to form words.
"... how the heck did I miss that?" Her voice sounds strained. "I should have realised… you're the best, after all."
Lauren snorts. "They may be the best, babes, but they stink like Auntie Di's fucking medicine cabinet."
Dellie looks at her. "So…"
Lauren shrugs. "Not gonna yuck your yum, babes, but they sure as shit aren'tmine. You lot… ooof.Fuck. I should ping youse lot toHeatseekersfor false advertising—that isnotlike any kinda fuckin' springtime garden—at least, not like one I've been in." She chuckles and shakes her head. "Fucking idiots, the lot of youse."
She stands, running her hands over her cream slacks, smoothing the wrinkles out. "You're all adults. Fuckingactlike it and have afuckingconversation."
She walks towards a door on the far side of the room, then pauses. Her head turns back towards us, her expression flat and humorless. "You hurt her, I gut you."
Her growl would put the fear of God into the most hardened alpha. I feel myself flinch. James is frozen. Seb… just nods?
She sets her mouth, and stalks through the door, slamming it behind her. Dellie blinks a few times, then rushes down the stairs.
I can see James is restraining himself with everything he has, but even so, he can't avoid muttering that she should be holding the handrail. The rest of my pack is practically vibrating. But I'm frozen.
Ralph takes a small step towards her. His face is pale. "Dellie—"
