Page 78 of Puck Your Charity

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. "What kind of loophole?"

"A permanent bond changes your pheromones." Susan wakes the screen up and slides the tablet across the scratched wood. "When compatible, scent-matched Alphas claim an Omega with a bite, it changes her scent profile. Other Alphas lose the ability to smell when she goes into heat. They catch zero trace of her pheromones. You'd no longer pose a risk of sending the hospital floor into chaos because the unbonded Alphas won't be affected by you. The liability drops to zero."

I stare at the glowing text on the screen. The words blur together.

"If you get marked," Susan taps the digital signature line on the document, "I can reinstate you tomorrow. You get your title back. You get your office back and you'd get a substantial raise for the hassle."

My heart hammers a frantic beat against my ribs.

A permanent bond with my Alphas.

Two months ago, the idea of an Alpha biting my neck and tying me to a pack forever terrified me. It felt like a prison sentence. I wanted my independence. I wanted to live alone in my beige apartment and ignore the world. I viewed a bite as the ultimate loss of freedom.

Now, the thought triggers a warm flutter in my stomach. I live in a mansion with four incredible men. They feed me, protect me, and make me laugh. They respect my boundaries. I share my bed with them.

But a bite is forever. It leaves visible scars. It means trusting them with my entire life. It means taking the final step into their world.

"I need time to think about this." I slide the tablet back across the table.

"Take a few days." Susan locks the tablet screen and slips it back into her bag. "The offer stands. We want you back, Olive. Sam asks for you every time he goes in for a blood draw. Think it over and give me a call."

She stands up, offers an encouraging nod, and walks out of the coffee shop.

I sit alone in the corner booth. The ice in my latte melts into water. I have the power to reclaim my career. I can walk back onto the pediatric floor and see Sam again. I can get my life back on track.

The price of admission requires handing my trust to my pack. I have to go home and ask four millionaire hockey players to mark me as theirs.

I grab my purse and head for the exit. Stepping out into the humid afternoon air, the city noise surrounds me. Cars honk and people rush past on the pavement. I unlock my sedan and slide into the driver's seat.

Gripping the steering wheel, I stare out the windshield. I just need the courage to walk through the front door of that mansion and lay all my cards on the table.

I navigate the busy streets of Manten, driving my sedan toward the affluent suburbs. The late May sun glares through my windshield. Traffic crawls at a frustrating pace, giving me way too much time to overthink the contract Susan emailed me.

I pull up to the iron gates of the mansion. The electronic sensor reads my car and swings the metal open. I drive up the winding paved driveway and park in the garage next to Finn's black Jeep and Lawrence's sleek sports car.

I cut the engine. Taking a deep breath, I grab my purse and step out onto the concrete.

I walk through the mudroom and kick my sneakers off. Pushing the swinging doors open, I step into the sprawling kitchen and living area.

The intoxicating aroma of the pack hits my nose. Crisp ozone, dark cedar, crushed black pepper, and juniper blend into a rich, comforting musk. The scent wraps around me like a warm blanket, easing the tense knot in my shoulders.

I stop in the arched doorway. I lean against the painted wood and watch them.

Finn and Lawrence sit on the large cream leather sectional. They hold video game controllers, their eyes glued to the huge flat-screen television on the wall. A loud racing game plays over the surround-sound speakers. Lawrence talks endless trash, a confident smirk stretching across his face. Finn laughs, his deep, dimpled smile on full display as he shoves Lawrence's shoulder.

Malcolm sits in his favorite matching leather armchair near the window. His long dark hair hangs loose over his broad chest. He holds a digital tablet, scrolling through game footage for the upcoming Alpha Cup Finals. He projects a calm, unshakeable aura, grounding the chaotic energy in the room.

Victor sits on the edge of the sofa next to Malcolm.

He wears a gray athletic shirt and dark jeans. His icy blue eyes lack the cold, arrogant glare from two months ago. He leans forward, pointing at the TV screen and offering Finn strategy advice on how to beat Lawrence. A genuine, relaxed laugh escapes his throat when Finn crashes his car into a wall.

The transformation astounds me. Victor no longer hides in the west wing or radiates toxic, miserable rage. He sits in the middle of the room, integrated and at peace. He puts the work in with his therapist, and the results show in every single interaction. The pack feels whole. The fractures in their foundation vanished.

A profound, undeniable sense of love hits my chest.

I stare at the four of them. The truth settles deep in my bones. I want the bonding mark. The hospital job offers a great bonus, but it means nothing compared to the men sitting in this room. I want to belong to them forever.

I step out of the arched doorway and clear my throat.