Page 22 of Pack End Game

"What?" Zak yelps as Spencer's foot slams down on the brake, throwing all of us forward. My seatbelt automatically locks, pulling me back against the seat as I grasp desperately for the coat in my lap to protect it at all costs.

Freddie leans forward and turns the radio off, letting the car descend into a moment of silence as Spencer resumes driving without a single word of acknowledgment of my claim. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"I tried to sell feet pics online when I was barely paying my rent." Freddie nods thoughtfully to himself. "Now that you have us, obviously, you won't have to sell your body for pleasure anymore. You can give it to us for free, and in return we'll... uhm, make sure you don't have to pay bills." He looks over at Spencer. "Is that still kind of prostitution? Sorry, the polite term is sex work now, isn’t it?”

"Freddie, shut up." Spencer groans and shakes his head. There's no malice in his words, and Freddie doesn't seem bothered. I have a feeling he's told to shut up as a common occurrence.

Freddie continues unfazed, "If my moms ask, though–I have two moms, by the way–maybe we can tell them you used to be a schoolteacher instead."

Zak's hand has tightened around mine like a snake trying to squeeze the life out of its prey. Spencer seems to have a similar grip on the steering wheel, the muscles of his arms tensed as he strangles the wheel at ten and two.

"I'm not a sex worker," I clarify, putting the guys out of their misery. Talking about my work always feels easier when I open with a shock-value joke, and then explain the much more reasonable reality. "I'm head of marketing for Nest & Knot. We sell sex toys. Most of the product lines are geared towards omegas, but there are a couple of product lines for general use, too."

The car slows, and Spencer loosens his death grip on the steering wheel as he turns into a circular driveway. All three guys try to discreetly exhale, but none of them does a good job of hiding their reaction.

There will be plenty of time for me to lecture them on the importance of sex workers later. As a beta, Freddie would be less likely to ever require their services for biological relief, but there are plenty of alphas and omegas who seek out professionals to help them through the more difficult times if they're single.

It makes me curious if my pack has ever volunteered at an Omega Center or possibly used similar services before–or after–they met with Freddie.

Not everyone can get by with suppressants or willpower.

We stop in front of a house. Their house. A monstrosity of a house. All I can see is giant gray stone walls at first from my window. Zak lets go of my hand so he can unclip his seat belt. Dread pools heavily in my gut. I kind of don't want to get out of the car all of a sudden, but everyone else gets out, so I don't feel like staying put is a reasonable option.

Spencer is out of the driver's seat and around the car to open my door in record time. The athlete side of him doesn't ever seem to relax. He's all muscles and sharp, watchful eyes all the time. I try to focus on him instead of the ugly house looming behind him.

"I have so many questions about your job," he says, offering me a hand up from the backseat. "So this topic of conversation is to be continued." He leans close, stealing the air right out of my lungs as I stare into his gorgeous, warm brown eyes. They glisten like fresh honey as he says, "I'm glad you seem to have a sense of humor. You'll need it when you see Freddie's weird feet and remember what he said about trying to sell feet pics to pay bills."

"Hey! My feet are the same amount of weird as anyone else's feet!" Freddie protests loudly enough that I have a feeling these guys don't have many friends in the neighboring mansion monstrosities.

Zak pats Freddie's shoulder. "The most important thing is that you love yourself."

"I think the most important thing," he elbows past Spencer and loops his arm through mine, "is being the first to show Mia around her soon-to-be home. You snooze, you lose." He sticks his tongue out at them as he drags me past them and toward the front door.

Even though I want to dig my heels in and refuse to get any closer to the ominous front door, which is as gray as the rest of the dreary house, I grit my teeth and let him pull me along. I'll let them give me the tour, and I can even do my best to keep an open mind.

But living here?

No. Hell fucking no. Every muscle in my body protests the very thought. A chill settles into my bones at the mere thought of walking through the entire house.

And that's all this place is: a house.

Not a home.

Chapter Twelve

Mia

"This place is huge, so we'll use the buddy system for the first few years until you get the lay of the land. You and I will be buddies, and Zak and Spencer can be buddies." Freddie looks over his shoulder to smirk at Zak and Spencer while he makes this suggestion in a decent impression of an official tour guide.

I ignore the churning in my stomach when I imagine being forced to visit this house for years. Unfathomable. Unacceptable. Over my dead body.

Actually, now that I think about it, all that stone makes this house feel like the kind of place that could have a dungeon. Maybe I should have heeded my brother's warning about having a breather before I dove headfirst into embracing my newfound scent-matches.

Freddie opens the front door and gestures wildly with his free arm. “Welcome home,” he sings theatrically.

Home.

He has no idea how wrong that word feels.