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Even Atlas quirks a smile. “Bring your laptop? We’ll sit with you. Need to be close or you might panic again.”
“I’ll get it. Stay.” I’m tempted to yank Finn’s collar as a warning, but he’ll like it too much.
Instead I hook my finger in JJ’s ring and give an easy tug that sparks his purr.
I’m gentle, always checking in, afraid to push too hard, but he watches me like the moon watches the sun.
“Be good.” I smooth his silky hair.
“Only for you,” he murmurs.
“No. Hey. Star…” Finn moans, crawling after me.
Orion’s still cackling.
I hurry into my bedroom, and almost do the thing where I slam the lock and fall against the door.
Instead, I smile where they can’t see.
This pack is fucking chaos.
I grab my laptop and a stack of fresh Redfang papers before rejoining the mess in the living room.
I swear I’ve been gone thirty seconds, but JJ has Finn pinned to the carpet with a machete from who knows where and Orion flipped from maniac laughter to ragged gasping as Atlas tugs his hair and sucks his throat.
All four straighten hilariously fast—separating like they just got caught stealing my ice cream—and tug me back to my spot at the center of the pile on the couch.
Fucking.
Chaos.
And I love it.
Orion straightens his pants and goes to grab his laptop. Then he glues himself to my side to work on game code. Atlas cracks an omega behavioral textbook, highlighting like he’s studying for extra credit.
He’s going to get it.
JJ and Finn just pet my feet, sitting on the floor with their heads resting against my knees.
Circumstances make it crazy hard to focus on the files, but I breathe until my eyes uncross and their warm bodies read as a comfort instead of a temptation.
Have to find something.
I flip through pages, zoning out, trying to connect the numbers and find the one mistake the Redfangs must’ve made.
Finn’s drooling on my leg, snoring softly when I finally jerk. “Diamond Dolls and lobsters.”
“What in the what?” Orion lowers his screen.
Once upon a social, all the omegas were moaning over delicious, buttery lobster.
So I snuck a piece.
Threw up on the lawn.
But because of my long-time sea-bug hate, I remember the project I haven’t thought about in years.
“Diamond Dolls, LLC. I just remembered why I know that name. I did their books a few years ago, and they kept ordering blue lobsters from this same supplier on Dom’s island receipts.”
