The Alphas Who Wouldn't Let Go

　　Layla's POV

　　The pins dug into my side as the seamstress circled me, muttering around the mouthful of metal that she'd parked between her lips. She patted at the Moonwoven gown, smoothing the fabric over my hips before stepping back and tilting her head to assess the shape and then stepping in again.

　　The mirror threw the reflection of me back in my face and I fought back the laugh that threatened to escape.

　　I was smothered in white from shoulder to floor, the perfect image of purity and not a single part of me felt as though it belonged in it. I kept my face blank as the seamstress worked because that's what they like from a good pack daughter.

　　Quiet, compliant and decorative.

　　"Hold still," the seamstress said, her voice almost a squeak as if my breathing actually offended her. "The fabric can be ruined so easily if you stretch it too far."

　　"I wouldn't dream of it," I said flatly, even though I wanted to rip the whole thing off and toss it out the window just to watch the elders choke on their tea.

　　My phone buzzed on the vanity. Once, then twice and then a third time, but this time it buzzed longer. The seamstress flicked her eyes towards it and then back to me.

　　"Don't you dare," she warned gently, like I was a child reaching for a hot stove. "The messages will still be there when I've finished the fitting, if the fabric is damaged even slightly I'll have to start all over again. Do you have any idea how difficult this material is to get hold of, let alone to work with?!"

　　"I'll risk it." I said quickly as I lifted my arm and she hissed at me, but she was too slow to stop me.

　　I grabbed the phone and swiped without checking who the sender was.

　　Erin. Of course it was Erin. No one else had a penchant for blowing up my phone with the latest gossip quite like she did.

　　"OMG LAYLA! I'm at the Pack Hospital and I legit just saw Kian with Chelsea. They were whispering about a test. She was crying. Pregnancy maybe?"

　　At that moment I felt as though the world had stopped. The only sound I could hear was a strange sort of static in my head as the seamstress still fussed with the hem like it even mattered anymore.

　　Then came the hard thud of my pulse and my stomach rolled as the anxiety and betrayal washed over me. I felt sick.

　　My wolf, Freja, snarled furiously in my head as the implications set in.

　　"How. Fucking. DARE HE!" she roared furiously with her canines bared, "And with HER?! SHE is the reason that he couldn't come today? Oh the absolute audacity of that bitch, Why does she always insist on throwing herself at him. What are you waiting for? Get out of this ridiculous dress and find them!"

　　"Miss Pearson?" the seamstress said carefully. "You've gone very pale. Is everything okay? Do you need to sit down?"

　　I set the phone down face up so that the words stared back at me and then, I snatched the material of the gown from the seamstress's hands as she gasped in horror and I yanked it off over my head.

　　"You're going to ruin it!" she squeaked as she grasped for it wildly and for a moment I let her hold it, her fingers clutching at it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

　　"Actually," I said, and my voice came out flat and calm, the way it always did when I was past the point of talking myself down from reacting impulsively, "I think there's a problem with the fit."

　　Her mouth opened to argue but I didn't give her the chance as I gripped it tightly with both hands and tore. The sound seemed to break something inside the seamstress, and I almost felt a little bad as the delicate threads snapped one after another, the skirt slumping into two sad pieces that slid over my arms and onto the floor. Her face crumpled like I'd kicked a puppy.

　　"You can't," she stammered, diving for the wreckage of the dress as she scrabbled wildly to collect it, "You can't do that! How could you?! That was a custom design! The Alpha's family approved the pattern themselves...it took three months to weave enough of the fabric to their specifications!! We...we can't replace this!"

　　"Well, I guess they'll need another three months then," I quipped as I stepped past her and pulled my jeans back on, shoving my arms into my hoodie angrily. "Charge me for it if you have to and you can add a tip for the distress... I'm feeling generous."

　　"Miss Pearson, please," she tried again, hands shaking as she gathered the fabric like it could put itself back together if she loved it hard enough. "The ceremony is in two weeks. People are expecting..."

　　"People expect a lot." I said as I scooped my keys off the vanity, "It doesn't always mean that they deserve it though." I finished coldly as I slid my phone into my back pocket, and walked out with her pleading trailing after me.

　　I cut through the foyer of the Pack House at a pace that had the omegas flattening against the walls to let me pass. A few looked at me like they wanted to ask if I was okay but I didn't slow down long enough to lie.

　　The sun hit my face on the steps and the cold slapped me awake.

　　"Good. We need to be focused when we get our hands on them!" My wolf paced furiously in my head and it was all I could do to stop her from forcing the shift and running there herself.

　　My car sat in the lot, black and sleek and loud, and I was grateful for the way it roared when I turned the key, the sound matching our anger. I peeled out before anyone could flag me down for a conversation that would end with me punching a window.

　　Traffic through downtown moved slowly so instead I took side streets, and drove probably a little too recklessly until the Gravehide Corporation building rose ahead of me, all glass and steel, catching the light and throwing it in my face like it wanted me to go blind.

　　I swung into the underground garage and slid into a spot marked Reserved like it had my name on it. It kind of did, if you asked the elders, who loved to say Kian and I were fate's neat little bow on a century of alliances.

　　The elevator up from the garage was stainless steel and smelled like someone else's cologne and as I watched the numbers climb it took a conscious effort for me to make myself breathe through my nose and not through my teeth. The last thing I wanted was for people to get the full rabid Layla experience. It wasn't a good look.

　　The doors opened on twenty and the lobby receptionist stood up so fast her chair rolled back.

　　"Ms. Pearson," she said, palms pressing flat on the desk. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Gravehide today?"

　　"I have business with Mr. Gravehide, yes." I said without sparing her a glance as I stormed across the marble floor.

　　She looked like she wanted to stop me, but she also looked like she liked her job and when it came to me, those two things didn't mix well.

　　I didn't bother to knock when I reached his office and the door flew open as I threw my weight behind it.