Fated in New Orleans

16

Salem took a careful step closer, glitter bomb poised like a predator closing in on prey. Rhea froze, hands in the air, ice cream smeared and eyes wide. “Salem… c’mon… you wouldn’t—”

“I would, cher,” Salem said, her voice a low growl of mock menace, glitter bomb sparkling in her grip.

Just as she raised it higher, the door to the kitchen burst open. One of the pack’s younger warriors—always eager, usually a bit oblivious—stepped inside, eyes widening at the sight of Salem looming over Rhea with the glitter bomb.

“What the—?!” the warrior yelped, and before anyone could react, he turned on his heel and bolted straight back out the door, tripping over the threshold and nearly face-planting onto the porch.

The room erupted into laughter. Rhea let out a high-pitched giggle, pointing at the retreating figure. “Look at him go! You scared him more than me, Salem!”

Beau doubled over, trying to catch his breath. “Man, I can’t—he’s gone! Completely gone!”

Miles shook his head, chuckling, voice low. “Classic. Ran like the devil himself was chasing him.”

Even River’s lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through his usual calm. “I think he just learned two lessons at once,” he said, voice steady but amused. “Never mess with Salem… and never come in at the wrong moment.”

Salem’s smirk softened as she lowered the glitter bomb slightly, though her gaze never left Rhea. “Non, cher. That’s exactly why you always stay alert. Don’t count on anyone else saving you.”

Rhea wiped a smear of ice cream from her chin, still laughing. “Yeah, yeah… lesson learned. But that was priceless.”

Beau shook his head, still laughing. “Best entry ever. That kid’s gonna have nightmares for a week.”

Miles laughed low. “And a story he’s never living down.”

Rhea nudged Salem playfully. “See? Even the pack knows not to mess with you. Maybe I should thank you instead of fear you.”

Salem just rolled her eyes, the faintest grin tugging at her lips. “Don’t get used to it, cher. You still owe me for the ice cream mess.”

River, watching them all, exhaled softly. “Somehow… this pack gets more chaotic every day.”

And in the middle of the chaos, Rhea and Salem exchanged a glance that said, without words, that the glitter bomb wasn’t the only thing capable of causing a little controlled havoc.

Rhea leaned back against the counter, smirking as she licked the last drips of ice cream from her fingers. “You know… I could’ve just ordered another round. Delivery straight to the door. No chase, no glitter bombs.”

Salem’s eyes narrowed, crossing her arms. “Non, cher. You wouldn’t have gotten it right. Your coding would’ve triggered the system ban faster than you could say ‘double chocolate fudge.’ Unlike me.”

Rhea laughed, waving a hand. “Oh please, I know how to handle the system. You’re just bitter I don’t always need to play by your rules.”

Beau chuckled from the doorway, arms crossed. “Oh, this I gotta hear. She’s calling you out, Salem.”

Miles smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “Yeah, Red, she’s got a point. You do get a little… obsessive about control sometimes.”

Salem shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Obsession? Non. Precision. You try not getting banned for two months because someone decided to hack the delivery script for extra toppings.”

River, standing slightly apart, let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You two are impossible. I think I just witnessed an ice cream war that could’ve started a full-scale pack battle.”

Rhea laughed, eyes sparkling. “Exactly. And I won. Just saying.”

Salem exhaled, a hint of a grin breaking through. “You got lucky, cher. But don’t push it. Next time, the glitter bomb isn’t just for fun.”

Beau smirked, giving Rhea a playful nudge. “Yeah, keep her on her toes. That’s entertainment right there.”

Miles rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I swear, I’ve never met two people who turn ice cream into a tactical operation.”

Rhea winked at Salem. “C’mon, Red. Admit it—you secretly love this chaos.”

Salem’s smirk softened, a glint of reluctant amusement in her eyes. “Maybe I do, cher. Maybe I do.”

River shook his head again, amusement clear now, while Beau and Miles exchanged knowing grins. The pack might have faced chemical compounds, rogue enforcers, and black ops ghosts, but somehow… ice cream chaos was equally dangerous—and infinitely more entertaining.