Page 75 of Wild Omega

She grins. “Sounds great. I’m famished.” The way she glows seals my determination that I’m going to have a different kind of meal.

We leave Brad staring after us as I pull her out of the recording room and through the studio complex.

As we enter the front reception room, movement on the big flat-screen hanging on the wall catches my eye. The rolling tape at the bottom states an omega has gone missing. Icy hands clutch my body as a photo of Red flashes up on the screen. I stumble to a halt, Red bumping into me. Why is my omega’s face on the afternoon news?

“Red?” My voice catches. “Why’s the OCB looking for you?”

She follows the angle of my body up to the TV on the wall and her hand spasms in mine. The color leaches from her face and she blinks rapidly. “Yeah, about that . . . Um. I might have more than one secret.”

My heart swoops toward my toes.

Chapter thirty-one

Red

That damn Omega Center! My face stares back at me from the giant TV screen, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. Pours ice water all over my fantastic day. Not only that, but how am I going to explain this to Rickon? His wide eyes flick from me back to the TV and my instincts beg me to run.

I grab his hand and drag him toward the exit. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else, yeah?” Shit. I’ve run into dozens of people since we’ve been here. One of them might have tipped off Samantha already.

Rickon follows me on unsteady feet, shock turning his handsome face white. “Red?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything, but not here.” I silently beg him to just trust me one more time, like he did with my acting. That paid off well enough, didn’t it?

My alpha drags on my hand, jolting me back. “No.”

My throat closes up. “Please, Rickon?” I beg. Will I be forced to choose between my alpha and freedom?

He shakes his head and turns me into the wall, shielding my face with his hands as a staff member walks by. “You’re too noticeable,” he whispers. “We’ll never make the trip home. Come this way.”

What?

He turns back into the building and hustles me down a long aisle and I stumble after him, my mind working overtime to catch up. My pulse leaps as we pause in front of a giant doorway with the wordwardrobeprinted across the front.

The front area acts as a reception, but the rest of the room opens out into a warehouse with row after row of giant shelves stacked with crates. Rickon veers down an aisle where all the boxes are labeledHope at Seawith a scene number.

“This was our latest film. Good thing they haven’t archived the props yet.” Rickon spots the crate he wants and digs into it, pulling out a scarf and beret. My breath catches as he steps in close and tucks my braid into the cap before settling it over my hair, hiding the bright red strands. He deftly knots the scarf around my neck, then digs into another box for sunglasses.

“You’re not angry?” I ask softly.

He readjusts the angle of the sloped hat and fits the sunglasses on, holding my jaw gently when he’s done. “You said you’d tell me everything.” His lovely green eyes bore into mine, super serious. “I’m all in, no matter what kind of trouble you’re going through.”

My throat burns. Fuck. I don’t cry, ever, except for those times that mustn’t be mentioned, but this tests my self-control.

“Come on.” Rickon fills out and signs some kind of register and then takes me outside where he calls an Omuber. While we wait for the car, he pulls out a palm-sized makeup kit and dusts brown eyeshadow over my brows to cover the red. “That’s the best I can do right now,” he mutters as he slides it back into his bag.

I take his hand. “Thank you.”

He squeezes back in silence, and then wipes his brow with his sleeve. The spring air still has a touch of winter in it, so I know he’s stressing rather than overheating. Who can blame him? I’m an omega on the run.

The Omuber pulls up and Rickon gives the driver an address that sounds different from his. I stiffen. What if he’s going to rat me out to the OCB? I’d never forgive him, so I suppose it’s best to know right away if this is going to work or not. I sit like I’m carved of stone for the entire ride with my belly tangling into knots.

We don’t pull up in front of a big Omega Crimes Bureau building, which confuses me even more.

“Where are we?” I ask as Rickon slams the car door behind us.

He glances around. “A block from the back of my building. The main street has cameras.”

I follow him through shadowed alleyways that smell strongly of fish guts before turning onto his street. The beeps as he keys his PIN into the pad sound loud in the alcove and I can’t resist checking over my shoulder for watchers. We slip inside and the door shuts behind us. I slump with relief.

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