3. Hunter

"Do they usually get this one?" Graham holds up a container of yogurt. "Or this one?" He holds up another container. They look fucking identical.

"Get both," I grumble, plopping one of the containers into my stuffed cart.

Behind me, Elliot pushes a second cart that is already full.

"Don't you think you may be going a little overboard, Hunt?" Graham asks as we turn the corner into another grocery store aisle. He pretends to dribble a basketball, then grabs a box of sugary cereal from the shelf and dunks it into Elliot's cart. "Two points!"

Graham continues playing down the aisle, dunking things in as we go.

For a moment, I consider what he said. He has a point. We can't possibly need all this, but the kitchen has been overrun with takeout containers, and my pack is barely hanging on. I don't know exactly how I'm going to fix the hog-shit we're in, but I've got a hunch that it's gonna start with a home-cooked meal and a conversation.

My name is barely on the pack cooking rotation. I can grill a kick-ass steak, but my packmates learned a long time ago that I'm most useful on kitchen clean-up duty. Since Tristian moved in, he and Elliot have shared most of the actual cooking duties. And now Sadie.

Except with the constant commuting back and forth to Lux, all our routines are out of whack. We're always too tired. Everyone eats on the go or holed up in separate rooms on phone calls, researching, or working. Nobody is getting enough sleep. We're always catching up at work.

I rub my chest where Sadie's bond aches. She's muted a little with the distance, but I can still feel the overwhelming cloud of thunderous emotions. I push love and strength in the bond, my alpha howling at me to fix it.

It's a clusterfuck, and I've had enough. I've been trying to let my omega take the lead and handle this mess with her family the way she wants. From what little she talks about her life before, I know she's had few opportunities to make her own choices. But I'm her Prime Alpha, and it's killing me to watch her and my pack run themselves into the ground. I understand why she feels compelled to help. What her father did with his company is ten shades of fucked up. But this isn't on her. Not any more than she's already paid.

When Sadie first came around, I'll admit I was a dick. I didn't trust her, and I thought she was a spoiled rich brat, here to have fun with my pack and leave us for greener pastures. But I was wrong. The fact that she loved my packmates and accepted them was enough to make me love her at first. The more time I've spent with Sadie, the more I've gotten to know her, I've realized she's so much more than accepting and open. She's sweet and kind, with a touch of spitfire that drives me crazy.

If I didn't think before that she was brave, I know it down in my bones now after watching her handle this crisis. But I can't watch her weather this anymore. Not the way we have been.

It's not about the fact that I'm eating takeout. I'll cook every day and learn to be Betty-fucking-Crocker if that's what it takes to put some of this to rights. My pack needs stability and some sense of home. And my girl needs to rest and mourn.

"You know what else would be awesome?" Graham dances down the aisle in front of me.

"Ice cream," Elliot and I say together.

Elliot nudgesme out of the way and takes over putting up the groceries. I shovel the last of the takeout containers into the trash bag Graham holds. The menus are next, but Graham rescues them off the top of the boxes.

"Let's not be too hasty, boss."

I watch, annoyed, as Graham shoves the overfull bag into my chest and puts the stolen menus back in the drawer.

"So, what's the plan? Doc texted that she fell asleep on their way to pick up Logan. He's asked the team to drive them home."

My heart squeezes. Yes, this is definitely what we need. "Pack dinner tomorrow. Followed by a meeting. I think it's time we bring our omega home for good."

Elliot looks at me over his shoulder, his thick eyebrows bunched, but he doesn't say anything.

Graham looks at Elliot then at me. "Hunt, I'm with you. Something needs to be done, but you can't demand she stays here. She feels she needs to do this. We need to support her."

"And the support she needs is this pack. Here at home."

Graham shakes his head. "Let the record reflect this will not go over well."

"Heard. And vetoed. Next agenda item," I snap.

It's not as if I don't know my plan is heavy-handed, but I can't stand back and do nothing. If I thought what was best was to move our pack to the city for the next year, I would. But she ran away from that life for a reason, and she's not getting sucked back in.

Never affected by my attitude, Graham laughs as he takes the trash toward the mudroom.

Elliot finishes stuffing the groceries into the packed fridge and turns on me. "We should clean up before they get here. Maybe run her a bath. And make sure they have a little something to eat."

This has been as hard on him as her in different ways. He was up too early this morning, and he's been more on edge. He's been battling his past with all this. My tone softens. "Good idea, El. Can you work on the nest while I make something to bring up?"

"I'll start some laundry," Graham shouts from the back of the house.

"How about I make something, and you clean the nest?" Elliot asks, already pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"Second that motion." Graham hollers, the little shit.

"Fine. But I'm cooking dinner tomorrow," I grumble back.

Graham groans loudly. "I knew I saved those menus for a reason."

Elliot chuckles, and I can't even be mad.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, grabbing the cleaning supplies and heading upstairs.

Elliot carries a wrapped-upSadie through the front door, Logan and Tristian moving slowly behind him.

I check in with the security team the King Pack has provided us since this mess all started, wishing the guys a good night before locking up.

Sadie hasn't stirred upstairs, but the room is filled with the sharp, bitter tang of her unhappiness. Graham pulls back the blankets of the nest and removes her shoes, helping Elliot settle her into the bed.

I hold out my arms to my mate Logan, and he collapses against me, letting out a jaw-clacking yawn. "How did the proceedings go today?"

He shakes his head against my chest. "Too tired. Tell you tomorrow."

"All right, baby. Elliot made up a plate for you guys. Eat a little something, and you can rest."

"Still too tired."

I run my hands along his back, taking in his crisp scent. I've missed him. Missed her. I miss our life.

I tug on Logan's hand, pulling him to the pack closet. He stands pliant while I untie his tie and work the buttons of his dress shirt. Graham wanders in with his haggard-looking mate, Tristian, and does much the same. We're quiet as we finish up and shuffle toward the bathroom.

"Aww. You drew up a bath." Logan sighs. "That was sweet, guys." He kisses Graham's cheek then pecks my lips, running his hand through my beard. "I'm sorry we're all too wiped to enjoy any of it."

We take turns washing up for the night between the three sinks.

Tristian leans against the counter, running his hands over his face. "I'm sorry I didn't get her home sooner."

Logan wipes his mouth on a towel and puts away his toothbrush, holding my eyes in the mirror. He looks guilty, but this isn't on him. My boy has been running as hard and fast as our omega, trying his best to support her. He's taking on as much of the politics and press as he can so she doesn't have to. Besides, he can't help that he's required by the Supreme Council to be in court to give testimony in their ongoing investigation into LanCo.

"Nobody needs to be sorry," I say, lifting my brow at Logan then turning on Tristian. "Everybody is doing their best."

Graham pulls his mate into a hug. "Hey, you did good. She's asleep, and she obviously needs it."

"I'm worried," Tristian mumbles, half the words garbled into Graham's chest.

"I think we all are," I say. "But I have a plan. Tomorrow, pack dinner at six o'clock. I want everyone home."

A chorus of agreement rings out.

We finish washing up, then everyone trudges to bed. Elliot's holding Sadie, but I scoot in next to him, needing contact with our girl. He grunts but shifts so she's cradled between the two of us.

I take a moment to breathe her in. Usually, she smells like the most vibrant and colorful meadow, lush and sensual but still sweet. Tonight, her scent is a wilted bouquet drowning in sorrow.

It makes me restless. I want to fight my way out of this, but I know that isn't possible. Instead, my purr sounds, and I run my palm along her hair and down her back. The others join in until the room is full of that profoundly homey comfort that's pack.

Nobody sleeps in their usual spots. The nest becomes a rumpled pile of mismatched blankets as everyone finds a way to get close to her. The longer we hold her, the more her muscles loosen, and her breathing turns slow and deep. The bond in my chest aches a little less.

This is the answer. Whatever it takes to give us more of this, that's what she needs, what we all need. And if I have to go all alpha to make it happen, then I'll gladly play the part of asshole.