The Alpha Meeting

Kinsley

The clattering of heavy ceramic plates and the aggressive hiss of the deep fryer were the only things grounding me to reality. Years had passed since I had been violently shoved out of the only world I had ever known. My beloved grandmother, the absolute rock of my life, had passed away a couple of years ago, leaving me to navigate this completely human, mundane existence entirely alone. I worked exhausting, bone-aching hours at a small, bustling local diner right in the heart of Fairhaven just to make ends meet. It was supposed to be a temporary gig, a stepping stone to something bigger, but life had a funny way of keeping you exactly where you were.

"Listen up, people! We are swamped today, but I’ve got two major pieces of news for you!" Silas, my boss, clapped his hands loudly over the morning rush. He was a good man, a sturdy human who had looked out for me when my grandmother died.

I paused, wiping down a sticky, syrup-covered booth with a damp rag, and looked over at the counter.

"The first one," Silas declared, a broad, proud grin on his face, "is that we are finally getting brand new uniforms. They arrive tomorrow morning."

A collective, theatrical groan of pure relief echoed through the small staff.

"Thank God! I absolutely loathe these cheap polyester rags," my vibrant best friend and coworker, Brielle, squealed from the waitstation. "We look completely awful in these! I am never going to find a decent boyfriend looking like a shapeless potato sack."

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head at her. Brielle was naturally stunning—slender, petite, with long cascading curly hair that made her look like a damn princess.

"And the second piece of news," Silas continued, leaning over the counter and deliberately lowering his voice to build the drama, "we have a highly exclusive event coming up starting tomorrow. A massive summit for some big-time corporate CEOs. Very rich, very important men. Our diner is going to be catering and hosting their morning meetings."

"Oh my God!" Brielle shrieked, practically vibrating in her non-slip shoes. "New people in town! I am begging the universe right now—please let them be hot, filthy rich men ready to sweep me off my feet."

I stood quietly in the corner, tossing my rag into the dirty bin. My stomach gave a slight, uncomfortable twist. "I just hope the new uniforms actually accommodate a plus-size figure," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. "And not some ridiculous miniskirt that’s going to ride up my thighs the second I bend over."

Brielle gasped dramatically, bumping her hip playfully against mine. "Are you kidding me, bestie? For real? I would literally kill to have your gorgeous curves! Your breasts are incredible, and your hips? Please. I’m completely sure you’re going to have all those rich CEOs going absolutely crazy for you."

I offered her a weak, entirely fake smile. Her well-meaning words were meant to boost my confidence, but they only served as a sharp, painful reminder. A heavy shadow fell over my mind. I was still the exact same overweight, curvy girl that the Lunastone pack had thoroughly despised. To them, I wasn't gorgeous. I was a fat, weak, pathetic human loser who tainted their prestigious bloodlines. I had fled that brutal life, surviving the freezing night they threw me out like absolute garbage, yet the trauma was still deeply embedded in my bones. I was just Kins now. A lonely, plus-size girl with a broad chest, round hips, and thick thighs who would never find a mate.

But I survived. That had to count for something.

Walking home after my grueling shift that evening, the crisp night air cooled the sweat on my neck. I rounded the corner to my small apartment complex and instantly stopped in my tracks.

"Thing One and Thing Two! What the hell are you doing here?" I screamed out in pure joy, dropping my canvas tote bag onto the sidewalk.

My twin brothers, Bryce and Brooks, turned around from where they were leaning against a dark SUV. They had grown so damn much—massive, towering, and packed with thick werewolf muscle. They rushed toward me, lifting me off the ground in a crushing, bone-squeezing hug.

"Of course we came to see you!" Bryce laughed loudly, setting me down.

"Dad had some urgent business here in town, and there was no way we weren't coming to visit our favorite sister," Brooks added, his eyes softening.

I looked past their broad shoulders and saw my adoptive father, Garrick, stepping out of the driver's side of the SUV. The sight of him made my throat tight with unshed tears. He was older now, gray dusting his temples, but he was still the formidable wolf who had fiercely loved me.

"It’s so incredibly good to see you, Dad," I whispered, practically throwing myself into his arms.

"Peaches," Garrick murmured, holding me tightly against his chest. "The boys were driving me crazy. They wanted to run here in their wolf forms, but we had to keep a low profile."

For a brief, shining hour in my cramped apartment, everything felt completely perfect. I made them coffee, and we sat around my tiny kitchen table, laughing and catching up. But the warm family moment quickly turned tense when I brought up his sudden visit.

"So, what's the business?" I asked casually, washing a coffee mug in the sink. "Are you guys trying to negotiate a new border treaty with another pack?"

Garrick’s expression instantly darkened. The easy, relaxed posture of a father vanished, replaced by the grave, hardened stance of a pack warrior. He stepped closer to me, lowering his voice. "No, Peaches. It's not a treaty. We are dealing with a severely escalating rogue werewolf threat in the region."

I froze, the water running over my hands. "A rogue threat? Is it bad?"

"It's getting entirely out of control," he said grimly, rubbing his jaw. "That's why I'm really here. There is a high-stakes, neutral-zone Alpha meeting happening right here in Fairhaven to address it."

The mug nearly slipped from my wet fingers. "Here? In Fairhaven? But..." My mind raced back to Silas's enthusiastic announcement. "Oh my god. The big-time corporate CEOs. The summit."

"Exactly," Garrick confirmed, his eyes filled with deep, undeniable concern. He grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look him directly in the eye. "You need to be extremely careful, Kinsley. Do you hear me? Do not let anyone bother you. Do not draw any attention to yourself. Keep your head down and stay completely out of sight. You are a human living in a town that is about to be crawling with highly aggressive, dominant Alphas on edge."

"I'll be fine, Dad," I nervously brushed off his fears, forcing a tight laugh. "It's just an Alpha meeting. They're going to be in a diner eating bacon and eggs. I highly doubt any of these powerful, arrogant werewolves are even going to spare a single glance at the pathetic human girl they banished years ago. They won't remember me."

"Just promise me, Peaches," he urged, kissing my forehead.

"I promise," I lied.

The next morning, the diner was an absolute chaotic madhouse. Flour dusted the counters, the coffee machines were screaming, and Silas was pacing the floor, adjusting chairs and wiping already clean tables.

"Come on, people! They are going to be here any second! Where are those new uniforms?" Silas yelled, looking at his watch.

"Delivery guy said ten minutes!" Brielle yelled back, frantically tying her apron.

Before Silas could complain, the heavy glass doors of the diner swung open.

The air in the room instantly changed. It felt like all the oxygen had been violently sucked right out of the building. A thick, suffocating, intensely heavy aura of dominant supernatural power rolled into the diner, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.

The so-called "CEOs" had arrived.

Brielle audibly gasped beside me, her jaw practically hitting the floor. And honestly? I couldn't blame her. The men walking into the diner were impossibly, dangerously attractive. They were massive—towering over six feet tall, with broad, heavily muscled shoulders that threatened to rip through their expensive, tailored suits. They radiated raw, unchecked aggression masked behind human wealth.

"Kins, quick," Silas hissed, shoving a clipboard into my hands. "The tables are all set up in the back. I need you to stand right at the main entrance and personally greet and seat them. Check off their names."

"Wait, Silas, no, please—" I panicked, trying to hand the clipboard back, remembering my father's strict warning to stay invisible.

"Please, Kinsley, just do this for me. I need to get the kitchen in order!" Silas pleaded, already turning away.

I was trapped. I swallowed the thick lump of fear in my throat and stepped up to the podium near the entrance. I gripped the clipboard so tightly my knuckles turned entirely white. I looked down at the VIP list, intending to just read the names and get this over with.

My heart completely stopped beating.

The breath violently left my lungs. The very first name on the printed list stared back at me like a death sentence.

*Zander Thorne.*

"No," I whispered out loud, my hands beginning to shake uncontrollably.

I looked up just as the crowd of massive men parted slightly, and there he was.

He was my ex-Alpha's son. The very man who had shattered my life. The man who had bruised my arm, dragged me through the dirt, and abandoned me in the freezing woods.

He had officially taken over the Lunastone pack, and the years had only made him more terrifying. He had grown even more physically striking, his massive frame packed with dense, lethal muscle. His dark hair was styled perfectly, and intricate, dark tattoos peeked out from the collar of his crisp, expensive shirt, wrapping around his thick neck. He moved with a heavy, predatory grace that commanded absolute submission from everyone around him.

He was scanning the diner, his face set in a cold, arrogant mask. And then, his piercing light eyes dragged over to the podium.

He locked eyes with me.

Time completely stopped. For a split second, I saw his pupils dilate. Then, a volatile, explosive mix of sheer disbelief and raw, unfiltered disgust visibly flickered across his sharp, handsome features. His upper lip curled in a slight sneer.

Traumatic, vivid memories crashed violently into my panicked mind. The bonfire. My mother's photos burning. His hand clamping down on my arm. *Go back to your weak, pathetic people, you filthy human!*

"No… you…?" Zander muttered under his breath, the sound barely carrying over the diner's noise, but I saw his lips form the words. His jaw clenched so violently that a thick muscle ticked aggressively in his cheek. He didn't say another word. He just completely dismissed my existence, aggressively moving past me, bumping his massive shoulder intentionally against the podium as he stalked toward his designated seat.

I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. I tried to take a step back, to hide behind the counter, but before I could even catch a single breath, another massive shadow blocked my path.

It was Varg. The notoriously cruel, sadistic Alpha of the Sanguine Talons pack.

He stepped directly into my personal space, entirely invading my boundary. His dark, malicious eyes scanned my body, lingering on my broad chest and full hips with a look of absolute revulsion.

"Well, well… what the fuck do we have here?" Varg sneered down at me, his voice a nasty, grating rumble. "The chubby little human? The pathetic traitor from Lunastone?"

I couldn't speak. My throat felt like it was packed with sand. I pressed my back against the wall, trying to create distance, but he just leaned in uncomfortably closer. I could smell the stale coffee and aggressive pine scent radiating off his skin.

He lowered his head, pressing his mouth directly next to my ear, his hot breath hitting my skin.

"Fat whore," he whispered, injecting every single syllable with lethal venom.

Behind him, two other towering, tattooed wolves from his pack overheard and chuckled with deep, cruel amusement, their eyes raking over my plus-size body with mocking disdain.

Tears of absolute humiliation aggressively burned the back of my eyes. Before Varg could say anything else, Silas suddenly stepped right between us, holding a cardboard delivery box.

"Gentlemen, your table is right this way. Coffee is already poured," Silas intervened smoothly, completely oblivious to the supernatural tension, effectively sending Varg and his lackeys off to the back of the room. Varg threw me one last disgust-filled glare before walking away.

Silas turned to me, shoving a small plastic-wrapped package into my chest. "The new diner uniforms just arrived. Go to the back and change, quickly. I need you on the floor."

Desperate for a safe refuge away from the Alphas, I grabbed the package and practically sprinted down the narrow hallway, locking myself inside the tiny, cramped employee changing room.

I ripped the plastic open with trembling, sweating hands. I just needed to put the uniform on, keep my head down, and survive this shift.

I pulled off my old clothes and shook out the new uniform.

"You have got to be kidding me," I whimpered out loud.

It was a complete, humiliating disaster. It wasn't a standard diner uniform. It was meant for a cocktail waitress.

I forced the cheap, thin white fabric over my body, fighting to get the zipper up. The skirt was ridiculously, uncomfortably short, barely covering the bottom curve of my large ass. The fabric clung obscenely tight to my round hips and thick thighs, riding up with every micro-movement.

But the blouse was the absolute worst part.

It was a cheap, sheer white button-down, completely unforgiving for a plus-size woman. I managed to force the buttons through the holes, but the fabric stretched entirely too thin across my chest. My large breasts were practically spilling completely out of the dangerously tight, sheer blouse. The cheap fabric pressed violently against my skin, heavily outlining my cleavage and the lace of my bra underneath. I couldn't even take a deep breath without the fabric threatening to give out.

"I can't go out there like this," I panicked, staring at my mortified reflection in the small, smudged mirror. I looked exactly like the fat joke they all thought I was.

I took a shaky breath and bent down slightly, desperately trying to tug the hem of the painfully short skirt down over my thighs to gain an inch of modesty.

*RIIIIIP.*

A loud, unmistakable, horrific sound of tearing fabric echoed in the tiny room.

My eyes widened in sheer terror.

The strained fabric of the blouse had entirely given up. The middle buttons violently popped off, snapping against the tile floor. The front of the sheer blouse split wide open, completely exposing my chest. The flimsy lace of my bra did nothing to hide the heavy weight of my large breasts spilling out, my pale, bare skin fully exposed to the cold air of the bathroom.

Complete, paralyzing panic seized me. I was standing there, practically half-naked, clutching the torn fabric of my completely ruined shirt.

Then, I heard it.

A low, menacing, highly predatory growl violently vibrated through the thin walls of the small room, rattling my very bones.

I spun around in absolute terror, dropping my hands from my chest.

Standing dead center in the open doorway of the changing room was Zander.

His massive frame completely filled the doorframe, blocking any chance of escape. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth would shatter. His nostrils were aggressively flaring, pulling in my scent. His eyes were entirely darkened, the pupils completely dilated, swallowing the iris as his heavily affected gaze locked onto my chest. He unapologetically, intensely roamed over my fully exposed breasts, taking in every inch of my bare skin, his chest heaving with heavy, erratic breaths.

He didn't look away. Instead, he let out another deep, chest-rattling, guttural growl that sounded entirely more animal than human.

I froze completely in place, my bare chest rising and falling rapidly as I stared at the terrifying Alpha blocking my exit. I knew instantly, with absolute certainty, that I was dead. I was so fucking dead.