Four

The uncomfortable weight of anxiety sits in Conrad's chest, and she clears her throat as she tugs at the collar of her t-shirt.

She feels a bit like she's suffocating, and she has a feeling she might be literally suffocating soon. Charlotte's eyes are boring into her, and she swears that her friend can actually see her soul.

"You volunteered yourself?" Charlotte says slowly, clenching her fists on her knees as she stares at Conrad.

"Yeah. It isn't worth letting people get hurt," Conrad shrugs, gnawing on her lip nervously.

In a matter of seconds, Charlotte has risen from her seat, and her fists are bouncing off Conrad's shoulder.

"What the fuck," she cries out, grabbing her fierce friend's hands.

"Conrad! You are our future Beta," Charlotte roars, shaking her friend aggressively.

Conrad is a little irritated by this physical violence, so she quickly and calmly removes Charlotte from her personal space, shaking her head firmly.

"Yes. And as the future Beta, I know that our pack cannot afford the loss a war would cause. I can take care of myself, and you know that very well," Conrad scowls.

Charlotte isn't giving up.

"Yes, but he's an Alpha. You can't protect yourself against an Alpha, you're a Beta," Charlotte emphasises the word Beta, flinging her hands into the air in horror.

Barbara knocks on the bedroom door nervously, holding a tray of biscuits and hot tea.

"Just continue your discussion, I'm not interrupting," she whispers, sliding the tray onto the chest of drawers and sliding back out of the room.

She hates this idea just as much as Charlotte, but she knows her daughter; Conrad is as stubborn as a bull, and begging won't change her mind. It's the first time Barbara has truly regretted instilling values into Conrad because if the girl were even a little selfish, she wouldn't be essentially sacrificing herself.

Mom is lurking, Jane informs Conrad, and Conrad promptly throws a pillow at the door, causing it to close.

"I'm going to apologise to him. I shouldn't have bitten him," Conrad shrugs, continuing to fold some of the clothes on her bed.

"He manhandled you!" Charlotte yelps, snatching the dress her friend is folding out of her hands.

"You had every right to fight back," Charlotte hisses, her pale face taking on a bright red colour in her anger.

"It was rude and uncalled for. I need to practice my responses to things; I can't act like a child if I'm going to be a Luna," Conrad shrugs.

Her tone is detached and slightly cold, and Charlotte sighs, helping her fold some of the clothes.

"That's if you live long enough to be declared Luna," Charlotte murmurs, more to herself than Conrad, but she hears it anyway.

She doesn't comment, moving some of the folded clothing to the first suitcase.

"I don't know how you're planning to pack up your whole life into these four suitcases," Charlotte mutters, and Conrad releases a little giggle.

"My mum said she'd send the rest on. My dad pulled these down from the loft, and I looked at him like he was insane, but he reminded me that they have to fit into a car and Adamo's private jet," Conrad rolls her eyes.

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, her nose scrunching up a little.

"Of course that bastard has a private jet. It's always the assholes who get nice things," she scoffs, beginning to pack Conrad's makeup into separate makeup bags.

"Why do you call him Adamo?" Charlotte asks after a moment of silence, glancing over her shoulder at her friend.

"I feel like he might kill me faster if I call him Atlas. It doesn't seem right to call him that either, though - it's so stern," Conrad sighs, shrugging her shoulders.

Charlotte knows her friend's peculiar ways, so she doesn't question it any further, only moving from her place at the makeup area to help sit on one of the suitcases while Conrad zips it up.

"When are you leaving?" Charlotte asks, and Conrad shrugs.

"He said he was leaving tomorrow. I'm going to do my best to be ready because I don't want to cause any issues before we even leave. I'm supposed to meet with him this evening," Conrad mutters, and Charlotte claps her hands excitedly.

"Okay, I know what we need to do. I'm going to link Marcy and Shawn, and the four of us are going to go to dinner. I'm not going to let you argue, I will walk you to the meeting myself and make sure you're on time," Charlotte insists, and Conrad can tell by her face that there's no point in arguing.

"Fine, where are we going?" Conrad groans, walking over to her wardrobe.

She barely has anything left hanging up - most of her stuff is either on her bed or in one of the various suitcases.

"The Italian place, the fancy one. We should get dressed up," Charlotte grins, her eyes flashing as she mindlinks their other friend and her mate.

Marcy and Shawn are one of the best pairings that Conrad has ever seen - Marcy is a nurse and works as a receptionist in the pack's clinic, and Shawn is a disaster who works with the warriors. He's always injured, and she's constantly patching him up.

Marcy was the first one of them to find her mate, and Conrad can still remember that day in chemistry class - she made the joke that the two of them must have had chemistry, and she got punched by Charlotte - when Marcy fell off her stool in a faint when she locked eyes with Shawn.

Charlotte was the last one left, and Conrad feels a little knot of sadness in her throat at the realisation she probably wouldn't be around to see her best friend find her mate.

Charlotte lets out an excited squeal, and Conrad quickly forces any negative emotion down.

Her friend is incredibly receptive, to the point people used to joke that she was a psychic. She works as an elementary school teacher, and Conrad couldn't think of anything more perfect for her to do.

Conrad was the odd one out - she has a masters in marketing from a human university, and she's worked remotely for some marketing company in the city for the last two and a half years since she interned with them. The other two work with people every day, yet she rarely leaves her office.

She knows how to sell herself and the products she deals with, and she was paid exceptionally well for it, even if she very rarely goes into the offices. She knew she would have to give it up when she took on her Beta role, but theoretically, her qualification made her even more attractive for a rank.

"I got a table for us. We're going at five, and your dad says your meeting is at seven, so we have plenty of time," Charlotte exclaims happily, skipping over to where Conrad stands.

"Wear the red," Charlotte instructs, gazing critically at the remaining articles in Conrad's closet.

"I haven't worn that since graduation," Conrad protests, and Charlotte shrugs.

"Yeah, and your boobs have grown in since then. It's gorgeous, and it's a sin to leave it in the wardrobe," Charlotte smirks, pulling it off the hanger and holding it up critically.

"Leave me and my boobs alone," Conrad groans, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Yeah, there's something to leave alone now, unlike in high school," Charlotte cackles, leaning down and swiping up a pair of black heels from the stack of shoes resting on the floor.

"I'm not surprised they didn't grow till I was away from you - all you did was make fun of the itty bitty titties," Conrad laughs, taking the dress off her friend.

"What time is it?" She asks, walking over to the mirror.

"Four," Charlotte groans, quickly putting her phone back into her pocket.

"Can I trust you to be in that dress, wearing red lipstick, and those heels in an hour?" Charlotte asks sternly, and Conrad nods slowly.

"I think I can do that. I'll meet you at the restaurant, I might get my dad to drive me over," Conrad ponders, and Charlotte nods.

"Car still in the shop?" She asks, and Conrad scowls, nodding irritably.

"Every time they figure out one problem, there's another problem," she grumbles.

"Just get a new one. Just admit Betsy is a lost cause," Charlotte groans, and Conrad gasps.

"Excuse you. You lost your virginity on the backseat of Betsy, and Marcy had her first pregnancy test result in that car. I will also remind you that Betsy facilitated all of our road trips in high school, so less of the insulting her, please," Conrad scolds, shaking her head at her friend.

"You had to bring up the virginity thing," Charlotte whines, a grin crawling onto her lips.

"Hey, you made fun of my poor car, I couldn't not," Conrad smirks, sweeping her hair over her shoulder.

"I'll see you in an hour, bitch," Charlotte laughs, bouncing down the stairs.

As soon as she hears her friend say goodbye to her mother, she sits down on her bed, rubbing her temples.

"Do you need any help?" Barbara asks softly, and Conrad looks up, plastering a smile onto her face as quickly as she possibly can.

Her mother has enough to deal with without her adding to her burden.

"No, I'm okay. I'm getting ready to go for dinner with the girls and Shawn," she beams, standing up and holding up the dress.

"Shawn is one of the girls at this point," Barbara smiles, shaking her head.

Her eyes land on the dress, and she raises an eyebrow, staring at Conrad, "I'm assuming this was Charlotte's idea, because I remember very clearly you didn't like that dress even the day we bought it."

"She's convinced I'll fill it out now," she snorts.

"She's probably right there," Barbara reasons with a chuckle, rolling her eyes a little.

"I'll leave you alone to get ready. If you need any help, just call me," her mother instructs.

Barbara closes the door on her way out, and Conrad breathes a deep sigh of relief.

She glances at the bathroom, wrinkling her nose up.

She doesn't want to have a second shower in one day, but she does want to properly scrub herself after doing so much packing and organising.

She sighs, reluctantly placing her dress down and walking into the bathroom, turning on the water.

She brushes her teeth, staring at herself in the mirror.

She did this less than twelve hours ago, and she can't believe how much has happened in one day.

Dad, will you be able to drive me to the Italian on the main street when you get home?, Conrad links her dad, checking the temperature of the shower after she rinses her mouth out.

I suppose. Betsy still isn't back?, Silas groans, and Conrad chuckles, stepping into the shower after she ties her hair back.

No, I'm wondering if she'll ever be back, Conrad complains, and Silas grumbles over the link for a minute until he closes it.

She exfoliates the living crap out of her legs, quickly shaving them as she glances at the clock in the bathroom.

She cannot be late - Charlotte will hang, draw, and quarter her if she is.

As soon as she's done showering - a feat which somehow only took ten minutes, including all of her shaving and exfoliating - she coats herself in a coconut moisturiser.

If she can't be on a tropical holiday, she may as well smell like one.

Forty minutes till Silas comes home, Jane informs her, and Conrad squeaks, hurrying into her bedroom.

She's a very punctual person by nature, and she's usually early to everything - she doesn't want to risk being even a minute late.

She puts on a matching set of underwear, making sure the bra is strapless before she puts it on.

She stares at the dress on her bed dubiously, unsure if she'll be able to get it over one leg.

It's a scarlet red, with one sleeve off the shoulder style, and one going straight up and over her shoulder.

She grimaces as she holds it up against her body.

She's considerably curvier than she was in high school, and she isn't going to let her self esteem take a hit if she doesn't fit into a six-year-old dress.

She unzips it reluctantly, and slides it up her body, raising an eyebrow when it actually somehow zips back up.

It's as long as she remembers it, and she's now thankful she hadn't gotten around to packing her heels, as she slides her feet into the stilettos that Charlotte chose for her.

She does a little spin in the mirror, and she emits a little giggle as she watches how the dress moves, digging in one of her drawers and pulling out a black clutch bag.

This restaurant is usually where the Alpha takes visiting ranks, so it's pretty fancy.

She clips her hair back quickly, grabbing her makeup bag that Charlotte half-packed, and beginning to beat her face into submission.

Her foundation and powders go on smoothly, her bronzer deepening her skin tone nicely, while her brows are almost exactly the same for once.

Her makeup, for once, is all cooperating.

She glances at the time, her eyes widening when she realises she somehow only has five minutes to finish getting ready.

A quick cat-eye and a slick of deep red lipstick later, she's almost ready, fluffing out her unruly waves and adding a hair oil to them.

They shine as they catch the light, and she giggles quietly to herself as she admires her outfit and face in the mirror.

She hasn't made this much effort in a while, but she loves feeling like a princess.

Putting her lipstick and her phone into her bag on top of her cards and keys, she straightens up, nodding to herself.

The getting dolled up was a nice distraction from her meeting with Atlas later on - she knows that if Charlotte hadn't demanded they go out, she would have been moping all evening until she dragged herself to the meeting.

This way, however, she gets to see her three closest friends, and to eat some really good food, all in one go.

She can hear the front door open, and she quickly grabs her bag and a black blazer jacket, descending the stairs carefully.

She hasn't worn stilettos in what feels like forever, so the stairs are her biggest enemy of the hour.

"Hey," Conrad chirps, a grin on her face as she looks around at her mum and dad.

Barbara's face lights up when she spots her daughter, and she claps her hands excitedly, peering at her daughter.

"The dress!" She squeals, and Conrad laughs.

"I know!" She cheers, pulling her mum into a hug.

"Con, you look lovely. Can we leave before the traffic gets bad?" Silas hastily asks, and Conrad rolls her eyes teasingly.

"Why do you think I'm ready now?" She laughs, and Barbara is still overwhelmed with delight.

"Is that the red lipstick I bought you last week?" Barbara asks after a moment, and Conrad nods.

"Yeah, it matches the dress perfectly, so I went with it," she shrugs, and Barbara grins even wider.

"Perfect. Enjoy your night, sweetheart," Barbara calls, and Conrad blows her a kiss over her shoulder as she walks over to her dad's car.

"Be careful getting in, don't hit your head," Silas warns her.

Of course, as soon as she gets in, she slams her head against the roof, cringing down immediately and cursing under her breath.

"Who are you having dinner with?" Silas asks as he reverses out of the garage.

"Charlotte, Marcy, and Shawn," she chirps, and Silas makes a noise of approval.

"Shawn is a good kid. He's been doing really well with the teenagers this past month, his review this week was brilliant," Silas notes, and Conrad rolls her eyes.

"Dad, he's twenty-four, he isn't a kid," she chuckles, keeping her eyes peeled for her friends as they drive closer to the restaurant.

"My point still stands. Enjoy your night, and good luck with your meeting with the Alpha," Silas murmurs, pulling the car over to the side of the road.

"Do you think he'll kill me?" She asks quietly, and Silas quickly turns to stare at her.

"No. I really don't think he will. You're his mate, and he wouldn't have tried to break into the barracks if he didn't want you," he says determinedly, leaning over, and kissing Conrad's forehead.

"You're going to mess up my makeup," she grumbles, leaning away from him.

"If you don't want your makeup ruined, get out of my car," he shrugs with a grin, and she rolls her eyes, opening the door and sliding out of the vehicle.

He watches her walk towards the restaurant with a frown, making a mental note to make sure there are security patrols on break in the packhouse while she has the meeting with that man.

Silas doesn't trust Alpha Adamo, and he never has - he wasn't a fan of his father, either. He and Barbara knew his mother when they were younger, so he at least knows Conrad will be watched over when she goes to his pack - his mother is a lovely woman, or, at least she was five years ago.

Conrad strolls into the restaurant, keeping her shoulders back and her back straight.

Her posture is impeccable, and she tilts her chin slightly into the air, her eyes roving over the seated diners to find her friend.

She comes to a halt in front of the hostesses booth, a smile settling onto her red lips.

"Hi, I think we have a reservation under Miss Charlotte McNamara," she says politely, and the hostess nods.

"Two of your party are already here, if you walk this way," the young girl smiles, leading her over to a table by the window.

Her smile gets even more prominent when she realises Marcy and Shawn have arrived first.

She thanks the hostess before she attacks Marcy with a tight hug, squeezing her with all the strength she has. She hugs Shawn, too, so that he doesn't feel left out.

"We heard about you and Alpha Adamo," Marcy says with a raised eyebrow as Conrad settles into her seat.

"Oh, you mean Conrad and Mr Sexy Alpha man?" Charlotte laughs, taking the final seat at the table and wiggling her eyebrows.

"The Society won't be happy about this," Shawn warns them, and Marcy swats him with a napkin.

"Don't be so negative, let us have our gossip before you come in and be all logical," Marcy whines, and Shawn grins, rolling his eyes.

"I have a meeting with him after this, at seven. I bit him earlier - in self-defence, may I add - and need to apologise before he murders me," she grumbles, unfolding her napkin.

Marcy is in a deep blue dress, and Charlotte is in an emerald green colour, the three colours contrasting nicely.

"He won't murder you," Marcy says confidently, "you're too pretty to kill."

Charlotte bursts into a fit of giggles at the revelation, muffling her laughter as a waiter comes over to the table.

"Are we ready to order?" He asks, and Shawn looks at the girls.

"We'll take a bottle of white wine, whichever you would recommend from the last twenty years. For myself, I would like the lasagne," he begins, a smile on his face.

"I'll take the same, please," Marcy echoes quickly.

"I'd like the spaghetti bolognese, please," Conrad smiles, and Charlotte cringes a little.

"I'll get the ham and chicken pizza, please," she smiles weakly.

The waiter writes all of this down and bows as he leaves, making Charlotte smile a little.

"But anyway, I have to be in the packhouse at 7. I can't be late, I'm not giving him any more reasons to end my life," Conrad states confidently, folding her hands on the table.

"We'll get you there, trust me," Charlotte rolls her eyes.

Get her there, they certainly did.

After a few glasses of wine, Conrad isn't the steadiest on her feet, and despite the gallons of water Marcy forced her to drink, she's still a little shaky.

What should have taken no assistance, took the three of them to make sure she made it into the packhouse and didn't bail on the meeting.

Shawn manages to steer her into the correct meeting room, and Marcy makes sure she's okay.

Conrad, meanwhile, is getting irritated by the three of them touching her, and she shrugs them off.

She can feel herself sobering up by the second, as Jane works to force the alcohol through her system.

"Go, I'm fine," she mutters, getting comfortable in her seat.

As soon as the three of them exit the door, they have to shimmy awkwardly by Atlas, who stares at them in confusion.

"Hello, Beta Rosser," he nods as he walks in the door, his nose twitching as he can smell the scent of wine around her.

"Hello, Alpha Adamo, I'm here to apologise to you," she remarks, her eyes following him vacantly.

"For what?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I bit you. And I also wanted to let you know, I will be ready by eleven am to go to your pack," she adds, and he blinks at her in confusion.

"Okay, that's fine. Is that all you wanted?" He questions.

"I want you to sign a vow that you won't attack my pack, ever," she instructs, sliding the stack of pages she typed out earlier in the day across the table to him.

He picks them up, and after reading the first page, laughs to himself and shakes his head.

"Fine, if that's what it'll take," he shrugs, his eyes roving over her figure.

She's a stunning woman, very striking.

He can tell she's a little tipsy, though, so he doesn't make any move to get closer to him, instead of scribbling his signature onto the page with the pen from his pocket.

"It's been good talking to you, Rosser. See you tomorrow," he says shortly, leaving the room as fast as he entered.