Page 119 of Knot Her Beta

As we near the end of the packet, the conversation winds down. It’s been an exhausting week, and the weekend won’t be much better. Tomorrow we’ll meet Dominic to finalize our joining the Wright Pack, and Sunday we’ll move.

By the end of the weekend, there will be no guest rooms, no Saturday visitors, and no question about where any of us belong.

We’ll finally be a pack.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Emily

First thing Saturday morning, the double doors swish open, and we walk into the local Registrar’s Office.

A big reception desk at the front takes walk-ins, with seating off to the side. I remember coming here when I first entered a courtship with Auren, and then again when we formalized our pack. I never thought I’d be here again, and butterflies take off in my stomach.

We bypass the front area and head down a hall labeled Pack Registration as Jared bounces with excitement. I don’t think he slept a wink last night. Not that I was much better.

“I’m telling you, I caught a glimpse of Grady’s phone this morning, and Holden is serving lobster rolls,” Jared says, his voice carrying in the empty hallway. He’s two steps ahead of me, walking backward. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. “And I saw a big can of clams, so I’m thinking chowder in bread bowls. And I know for a fact that Kyle brought in a couple of salmon yesterday, so smoked salmon hors d’oeuvre.”

“You shouldn’t be looking at other people’s phones,” Leif admonishes.

He walks beside Grady, scanning the hallway numbers, the satchel slung over his shoulder bouncing at his hip with each step. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Then Chloe shouldn’t be sending her bestie picks of the kitchen,” Jared insists. “If she’s going to spoil our welcome party for one of us, she’s spoiling it for all of us.”

“You’re going to be so sad when you’re handed a ham sandwich after this,” Dominic says from the front of our little procession, his leather portfolio tucked under one arm, his French braid hanging neatly down the back of his neck.

Jared whips around. “Holden would never.”

“This was very last minute,” I remind him. “And spring season is picking up. What Chloe sent was probably for the island hikers.”

Jared turns to our Beta. “Grady, tell them.”

He mimes zipping his lips, which twitch at the corners.

We round the corner, and a small waiting area comes into view. There are four plastic chairs and a single service window at the back with a glass partition and a small metal tray for passing documents.

Behind the glass, a woman in her fifties, with reading glasses pushed up on her forehead, types away on a keyboard with two fingers.

Dominic goes straight to the window and sets his portfolio on the counter with easy confidence.

“I’m here to sponsor three new members to the Wright Pack,” he says. “The paperwork should be on file.”

As the clerk’s head lifts, her glasses slide down to the bridge of her nose, and she peers at Dominic through the glass. “Names?”

Leif steps forward. While he’s already registered, he wanted to be here to see the rest of us join. Now, he opens his satchel and brings out three manila folders, each labeled with a name in Leif’s neat, angular handwriting. Wilson. Masterson. Finch.

The butterflies triple. This is really happening.

I thought I was ready after spending all week packing up the cottage, but it’s only just now become real.

The clerk draws the files through the window and opens the one on top. “Jared Masterson.”

Jared steps forward.

The clerk reads through the first page of his paperwork. “Status?”

He leans closer. “Lone Alpha.”

The clerk works through his paperwork, typing, pausing, typing some more.