Page 153 of Knot Their Omega

Even the sweet scent that hits my nostrils can’t calm this maddening rage inside me.

“Icarus?” There’s our little Omega’s concerned voice, but I can barely breathe. “What’s wrong with him? He’s pale.”

I’m so fucking angry.

“Hold on, Rebel,” I hear Nathaníel urge, and thank God he holds her back because I can’t think straight right now.

“Oh, he just found out that your copy over there sold our entire music catalog to the highest bidder,” James reveals, as if this is the grand scheme of everything. “So, guess what? There isn’t going to be a tour. How can there be a tour with no fucking music?”

“We… can’t perform,” Kenji whispers.

“We perform one fucking song, it’s a lawsuit,” James exclaims. “All thanks to this selfish bastard who sold it behind our backs!”

“Nathan,” Nathaníel growls in warning. “You didn’t.”

“I did, alright?!” he snaps. “My pals were in a jam because they don’t have an Omega and got rejected and shit. They needed help, and they’ve helped me plenty of times when I need rut blockers and other stuff to keep me going. I had to return the favor somehow but didn’t have enough funds to do so!”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“The tour was going to be canceled sooner or later. With the whole trending rumors of Kai and Kenji all over the place, I wasn’t going to let us go on that stage and be booed at!”

“Trending rumors?” I hear the firmness of our little Omega’s voice. It seems to be the only thing getting through to me. “What rumors. What have you been spreading?”

“Me?!” Nate Jr. snaps. “I didn’t do shit.”

“You defending yourself immediately says you did,” she huffs. “What did you say?”

“Rumors have it, Drummer Kenji is dating billionaire mute Kai Alastor,” Rex reads off a headline, and I can see the glow of his phone as he turns it around the room. “And a picture of them looking like they kissed.”

“They are kissing,” Astraea declares, as if it’s not a big deal. “That was taken in the studio. That wasn’t public. How did they get that picture, and even if they’re dating, who cares? Their relationship is no one’s business.”

“It’s a problem,” Rex mutters in dismay. “Because they don’t have an Omega. At least no one knows publicly. If you don’t have an Omega, it makes it look bad. Like you’re fucking around with one another because you don’t want to commit to an Omega. Also, most Omegas don’t allow gay shit in their packs. It looks like rebellious behavior in the eyes of everyone because the government perceives it that way.”

“That’s bullshit,” Astraea gasps. “So, if their Omega is fine with it, then the world is all fine and dandy with it? When did that start?”

“Since the movement,” James confesses. “And honestly, maybe it’s going to take a bold Omega standing on business and being fine with their Omegas having affection with one another to initiate that change, but until then, the rumors are circulating. This image is all over the place, and it’s only going to get worse now that our catalog was sold.”

“S-Sold?” Astraea gasps. “W-Who sold the catalog?!”

“Our fine leader over here,” James gestures to Nate Jr. “The same one who took the studio photo of Kenji and Kai and leaked it to the tabloids to make more money to give to his ‘pack of friends’ who were in a tight spot than the REAL loyal friends around you who would sacrifice an arm and leg for your success!”

“I didn’t fucking do it,” Nate huffs.

“Okay.” The stomps that follow have all eyes on the Omega, who’s in Nate’s face in a heartbeat. It’s so abrupt, even he flinches in surprise—or maybe in fear of getting punched, kicked, or another broken limb. “Give me your phone.”

“W-What?”

“Give me your phone,” Astraea repeats. “If you didn’t take the photo, then you can show me your photo gallery on your phone.”

When the realization registers on Nate’s Jr. face, he huffs and looks away.

“You ain’t getting shit.”

This son of a bit?—

“Who did you sell the catalog to?” Astraea demands. “We can fix this. We can just buy it back with a better deal, and the tour will be fine.”

“You can’t buy it back,” Nate Jr. snaps. “It’s a final sale.”

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