Page 120 of Knot Her Beta

She turns to Dominic. “We’ll need your signature and sponsorship payment.”

He slides in next to Jared and goes through the process, sliding his credit card through the slot along with the signed paperwork.

The clerk processes everything and waits for confirmation. “Your sponsorship is approved. Welcome to the Wright Pack, Jared Masterson Wright.”

She notarizes each page with a stamp that leaves a raised impression on the paper before passing it back.

The whole transaction has taken less than fifteen minutes.

Jared exhales through his nose in one long, controlled breath and steps back from the window, bumping his shoulder into mine.

I bump back, and we share a happy grin.

“Grady Finch?” the clerk says.

Grady moves forward, his cane gripped tightly.

She opens his folder. “Status?”

“Unattached Beta,” he confirms.

The clerk types. Pauses. Types again.

Then Dominic signs and pays.

“Your sponsorship is approved.” Another notarization. Another form slid through the tray. “Welcome to the Wright Pack, Grady Finch Wright, effective today.”

Grady lets out a breath as he accepts the form. “Right. Good.”

Dominic waves him over, his phone coming out. “Hold up the paperwork so I can send Chloe a pic. She demanded proof.”

He huffs but does as directed, holding the piece of paper up next to his face while he sticks out his tongue.

The clerk references the last file before turning to me. “Emily Wilson?”

My knees tremble as I step forward.

She opens my folder, and I see my information at the top. Emily Renee Wilson, followed by my date of birth.

“Status?” she asks.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. “Lone Alpha.”

In the past, the words would have brought pain, but now they bring with them a sense of relief, because it means I can join the rest of my pack and be with my true bondmates.

I peer back over my shoulder, and there Jared stands next to Leif and Grady, all three men grinning at me with excitement.

Now that the time has come, I can’t wait to stand beside them, officially recognized as a pack.

Grinning back, I return my attention to the clerk.

Her fingers peck at the keyboard with two fingers, filling in the boxes. She hits Enter, but instead of an approval, a red error box fills the center of her monitor.

She frowns and pushes her glasses up her nose to peer at the error, and her lips flatten into a thin line.

“It’s showing you as registered to the Lavender Sky Pack,” she says. “I can’t process a transfer without a release from the registered pack head.”

My jaw tightens, but I came prepared for this, and now I’m glad I did.