The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 247

Book 2~ Chapter 12

** Alaric’s POV **

+25 Points

The number still doesn’t work. I stare at my phone as if the answer might magically appear if I glare hard enough. It doesn’t.

The message thread is painfully short.

Me: Safe travels.

Me: Did they catch you up?

Me: It’s Alaric, btw. You know, the guy who helped you escape.

Me: Are you okay? Do I need to come and rescue you already?

That’s it. Just a one-sided conversation that’s been mocking me since she left. I tap the call button anyway; maybe she just missed the messages.

The phone rings once, then immediately disconnects… again.

“Still trying?” Bastian’s voice drifts across the cabin

I don’t look up. “No.”

“Right.” His tone says he absolutely does not believe me.

I lean back on the couch, stretching my legs out across the small coffee table in front of me. The

lodge we’re staying in tonight smells faintly of pine and old smoke. Temporary housing while we

deal with a supply delivery tomorrow morning, or something like that.

Honestly, I stopped paying attention to the details when the girl from the coffee shop decided to

live rent-free in my head. Which is ridiculous. I’m an Alpha; I don’t chase women. Usually, women

chase me. Yet here I am, texting a number that clearly isn’t hers… again.

Bastian closes the book he’s been reading and sets it aside with a quiet thud.

“You do realise,” he says calmly, “that if she wanted you to have the correct number… she would

have given it to you.”

I glance at him finally,

“You do realise,” I counter, “that if I wanted your opinion, I would have asked.”

He arches one blonde eyebrow at me, and I scowl before returning my attention to my phone.

The contact still reads: Crazy Coffee Girl

I know her name; it’s the one that haunts my every thought. But Crazy Coffee Girl just fits her

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< Book 2 – Chapter 12

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better. Poppy is a delicate flower, and Crazy Coffee Girl is… well, she’s crazy and wild, and she has a defiant streak that calls to me.

Which also irritates me. Who gets on a bus and vanishes like that without a word? Someone who doesn’t want to be found. The thought should make me drop it.

Instead, it makes me more curious. The memory flickers back without warning. Her standing there with that defiant little smirk. The way she read the number aloud while typing. The moment she stepped onto the bus, and the look she gave me through the window.

I see it now; she was unapologetically amused. My lips twitch slightly. She has no idea the

dangerous game she has just started, because I never back down from a challenge, and that’s exactly what this feels like.

“She gave you a fake number,” Bastian says helpfully.

“I noticed,” I huff.

“Most men would take the hint.”

I shrug. “You should have realised by now that I’m not most men.”

That earns me a long, silent look. I ignore it.

The bus station moment replays again in my head. The way her hand had felt in mine earlier. Warm and small, but not fragile. There had been something else there too. Something I couldn’t quite place.

She’s definitely not human, wolf, or witch. She’s just. different, and now it’s bothering me. I know rumors usually hold some truth, but I don’t believe in goddesses, not living ones walking the earth, anyway. So I’m not even entertaining that possibility right now.

“You’re distracted,” Bastian says after a minute.

“I’m not,” I snap, too defensively.

“You’ve checked that phone fourteen times in the last ten minutes.” He scoffs.

“I’m waiting for a message.”

“From the wrong number?”

“Yes.”

He exhales slowly through his nose. “Are you aware of how crazy that sounds?”

I shrug. “I enjoy a challenge.”

“That’s not a challenge,” he says. “That’s a rejection

I snort. “You’re assuming she rejected me.”

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< Book 2 ~ Chapter 12

Bastian leans back in his chair, stretching his long legs. “She gave you the wrong number.”

“That doesn’t mean she rejected me.”

“It literally does.”

+25 Points

I shake my head. “No, it means she made a mistake or she just didn’t want me to find her yet.”

His brow lifts slightly. “Yet?”

“She likes the game.”

“You spoke to her for what, twenty minutes?”

“Twenty seven,” I correct automatically.

Bastian studies me as if I’ve just confirmed something interesting. I ignore him and grab my phone again, opening the message thread like it might have magically updated in the last ten seconds. Nothing. Still just my increasingly pathetic list of unanswered messages.

I stare at the screen for a moment longer before typing again.

Me: You realise ignoring me only makes me more curious.

I hit send.

The message goes through instantly. Of course it does, because it’s still the wrong number.

Across the room, Bastian’s phone vibrates softly on the arm of his chair.

My head snaps up.

“Who’s that?”

He glances at the screen, then flips the phone over casually.

“No one.”

Probably some girl he’s hooking up with before we bind ourselves to our chosen mate. If I were smart, I’d be doing the same, but there’s only one woman I’m interested in right now, and she is avoiding me.

I lean back again and stretch my arms behind my head. “You know what the weirdest part is?” I

say.

“Everything about this situation is weird.”

I ignore that. “She didn’t smell like anything.”

That gets his attention, making him sit up straighte in his chair.

“What?”

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Book 2 – Chapter 12

“She had a scent,” I explain. “But nothing distinctly Wolf, witch, or human.”

“I thought it was a witch scent, a powerful one.”

I shake my head slowly.

“No. Definitely not a witch.”

+25 Points

Which isn’t exactly true. There had been something there that smelled of power, but it wasn’t like any witch I’d ever come across before. Even my wolf hadn’t recognised it; he’d been too distracted trying to lay a claim to her though. He’s been unsettled since she left. Whatever she is, she calls to my wolf, and he’s more than ready to answer the cal.

Which is irritating because my wolf has been restless all week, ever since it was confirmed our chosen mate will arrive next week. He should be focused on that, on the future we’re supposed to be building. Instead, he keeps circling back to Crazy Coffee Girl like she’s the answer to some problem I haven’t even asked yet.

I rub a hand over the back of my neck, trying to ignore the low, persistent hum in the back of my mind.

“Relax,” I mutter under my breath.

My wolf huffs in response, stubborn and unhelpful as always. If he thinks chasing after some mysterious girl with a strange scent is going to get us out of a mating ceremony next week, he’s out of his mind.

Bastian is quiet for a moment longer than usual, then he says carefully, “Maybe you imagined it.”

“I don’t imagine scents.” I scoff.

He shrugs. “Maybe she’s human with some of that pheromone perfume I keep seeing online.”

I think that over for a moment. If that stuff really does work, I suppose it could confuse my wolf. That might explain her scent, but not the rest.

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