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“The Patricks’ donors are all high profile. See there?” Orion nudges me. “That’s Senator Patrick and his pack, with his omega—”
“Noelle.” My stomach deflates.
“You know her?” Atlas glances over his shoulder.
“Yes,” I answer in a sickly rasp. My ears buzz like a swarm of wasps is nesting in my throat.
I always thought karma would do its work on the evil bitch. But here she is, swilling a glass printed with her designer lipstick, giggling on the arm of a pack of politicians, and wearing a red, crystal-crusted gown that makes her look like a poisonous rose.
“She was the ringleader,” Jett offers without turning. “She put Lilah in the hospital.”
The guys’ heads whip to him, maybe wondering where the fuck he got that information.
Because how the fuck did he get that information?
I never named names. I never narked.
“It was that bad?” Orion casually rubs my hand where it rests on his arm.
I squirm, suddenly more focused on his touch than the slow reveal of all my sad, dark secrets. “I survived. And I doubt she remembers me.”
I hope she doesn’t remember me.
“You don’t have to greet the hosts. I’ll speak to them for the pack.” Atlas moves at the head of our formation, and the crowd parts in front of his overwhelming dominance. The beta servers dive out of his path the way you’d expect, but just as many alphas recoil as he leads us across the glittering ballroom.
“Table’s over there.” Hunter nods to a central table, where over-the-top orchid centerpieces decorate a white tablecloth set with sparkling crystal, and it’s all so gaudy, so wasteful, and so freaking beautiful that I know Noelle had a hand in planning.
She always loved to flash her cash.
Orion holds out my chair, and my stomach does a barrel roll. Everyone’s watching the Wyverns. Their attention sears my bare shoulders, and I can feel them wondering who the hell I am to the most notorious pack in town.
Orion slips into the seat next to me, thin-lipped. “Everyone’s staring.”
“At you or me?”
“Both.” Finn drops onto my other side, sliding his chair close. “We have the hottest omegas.”
I shouldn’t let him in my bubble, but the scent of blood orange and gunpowder reassures me just as much as it does when he starts playing with his knives. Finn licks his lips, meeting our watchers stare for stare, and every alpha, beta, or omega who meets his eye flinches the fuck away.
Atlas sits next to Orion, and Jett and Hunter fill out our table, which thank the sweet lord, only has enough chairs for our six.
“Drinks?” Orion asks.
“Drinks.” I nod. Lots and lots of drinks.
“Be right back.” Hunter heads for the bar.
As soon as he disappears, an alpha steps into his place.
“Atlas,” the man rumbles, offering a bone-crushing handshake.
They trade greetings and news while I pretend I don’t notice the guy checking out my neck from the corner of his eye. I fiddle with my fancy cloth napkin, wondering if I should just tie it into a scarf.
When the first guy disappears, another takes his place, then another, and another, pack leader after pack leader, all wagging their tails to make an impression on Wyvern Pack.
I sink deeper and deeper in my chair until I hear a giggle like breaking glass.
“Lilah Darling? Is that you?”
