The Alpha's Unwanted Luna (by Miss L) novel Chapter 243

Chapter 243

9 – Greta

“What exactly did he mean by ‘it sounds like,’ Josh?” I glance over at the Beta, fully aware that he’s probably been giving Ryker a detailed report on every little thing happening within the pack. Josh’s knack for observation borders on annoying sometimes.

“Just what I said, Greta,” he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he snaps my name. “You and Finn need to get past whatever this… whatever *thing* is between you two,” he gestures vaguely between us, “and start working together. You’re both incredibly skilled. Stop wasting your energy fighting and channel it into something productive. Now, get your stuff packed. You’ve got a two-hour drive to check in with Rory, then another hour out to the cabin. Grant’s got your SUV waiting right outside.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns and strides away, leaving Finn and me alone in the quiet room. I can feel the tension thickening the air between us. “This should be interesting,” Finn mutters, stepping past me toward the car.

“Want to drive, control freak?” he asks with a grin over his shoulder.

Oh, absolutely thrilling. I jog around to the driver’s side, glad that Finn has at least figured out one thing—I’m the one in charge of this mission. First stop: my place.

“Just wait here. I’ll be five minutes tops,” I say, grabbing my go bag.

Finn smirks, clearly amused. “I’ve never seen a pack girl pack anything in five minutes. This’ll be good.”

“We’re not going on vacation. It’s not that complicated.”

“We’ll see about that. Ready? Go!” He grins like a kid daring me to prove him wrong.

He jumps out and sprints up the stairwell. Moments later, he’s back with a backpack that looks nearly empty. I raise an eyebrow, skeptical, as he tosses it into the back seat.

“What? Didn’t meet your expectations again?” he asks, grinning.

I exhale audibly. “Four-fifty-two. And the look is for your almost empty pack. When have I ever said you didn’t meet my expectations?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I win. Remember, we were nomads for most of five years. I don’t carry a lot of stuff. And, if I recall correctly,” he turns to face me fully as I drive south out of our pack territory, “an hour ago you said you’d pair me with as many people as it takes to get me to fall in line.”

He switches to a high-pitched voice, mocking me. “‘Just do the move right, and you’re free to go. It’s a simple release move.’ Pretty sure those were your exact words.”