Page 120 of Your Wild Omega

A double tingle spawns in my chest, telling me both Red and Zack have woken up. My steps slow as I approach the towering apartment building, the rising sunlight glinting in the windows. I’m mad, but I’m also scared. Like the cashier said, everyone loves Brad. He’s charming, wealthy, famous. And an alpha with presence.

I slip the bag handles up my arms and pull out one magazine while the elevator climbs to the top floor. The publishersdedicated a double-page spread to the exposé that suggests Bradley has a new love interest.

Thanks to half a dozen separate photos, the story appears credible. Brad with his arm around Red in a golf cart, his head turned to study her intently. Red getting into his car—a fucking Lamborghini, thank you very much. Several more candid shots from the set round out the nonsense article.

In all of them, Brad carries the confident look of an alpha who knows what he wants.

Everything I’m fucking not.

What if Red leaves me for Brad, or someone like him who can give her everything she wants? Stardom is a thing, and so’s the concept of the power couple. Famous packs get even more famous when they unite. My fingers hover near my pocket, ready to grab my phone. If I asked Callisto, would he get me a Lamborghini? Red’s career is blowing up, so I’ll be able to pay him the money back eventually.

My gaze catches on my reflection in the elevator’s mirrored surface. Skinny, dark roots growing out under platinum ends, low on the alpha appeal. But even as I think it, a spot of warmth in my chest blooms, and I just know Red’s thinking about me. Probably saw my text message.

I scoff and lean my forehead against the glass, ignoring how unsanitary it might be. “You’re an idiot, Ricky,” I mutter, my breath misting the reflection.

Why am I fretting over such useless things? Red claimed me the first minute we met, and that girl knows what she wants. She broke an alpha out of fucking prison to get what she needed. And seriously, an alpha more macho than Zack doesn’t exist in the entire world. She won’t abandon us because I lack pheromones.

I’m grinning like a looney by the time I get the front door unlocked.

“Hey, beautiful,” Red croons. She reaches out to help me with the bags, and then slips her cold arms under my sweater, stealing both warmth and hugs.

“That’s my line,” I murmur, touching my lips to hers.

“Mm-hmm.” She smiles against my mouth, still adorably soft with sleepiness. “So say your line.”

“You’re so beautiful, it hurts to look at you some days,” I murmur as I cuddle her close, rocking lightly from side-to-side as I chase away my insecurities with her scent and affection. Old habits die hard.

“Did something happen?” she asks, looking up at me with sleepy gray eyes. “Seemed like you got worried.”

I squeeze her once, then hold her at arm’s length. “I’m okay, but I did get a tad annoyed. Warning, this might spoil your day too.” I reach out and flip the magazine over on the countertop.

Red’s eyes pop. “What the actual fuck?”

“My thoughts exactly. Double-page spread dedicated to your new secret lover.”

The sense of her in my chest erupts with indignation and anger. “Never! Rickon, these are all coincidences, I promise. I didn’t—”

“Sshh.” I press my lips to hers, silently cursing my stupidity. I kiss her until the tension leaves her mouth. “I know, Biscuit. What I’m feeling is because he’s trying to weasel into our relationship, not because I thought any of it was true.”

She shoves her hand into her hair and blows out a heavy breath. “Fuck, Ricky. I couldn’t bear it if you thought I was cheating.”

Damn, and I was worried about her leaving me? Stupid. “I know, love.” I lean both hands on the bench and groan. “Kinda reminds me of the day Hudson barged in, and I was so worried you’d think the same of me.”

Red throws me a wry smile and I link my fingers through hers as we lean over the article. “But wait. There’s more.” I dig out the other magazines and spread them across the counter.

She swears under her breath and releases me to flip through the pages. “That’s a lot of content.”

I nod. “Sure is.” Jerking away from the infuriating stories, I move around the bench to empty the other bags. “In fact, it seems rather . . . coordinated.” Set photos where they’re smiling at each other, getting into his car, apparent affection in a golf cart. I track my finger across the photos, and suddenly the agenda clicks into place. This isn’t a case of lucky paparazzi shots at all. I click my tongue in disgust. “Bastard’s gone overboard trying to spin his story.” He just won’t take no for an answer, will he?

Red’s brow furrows as she glances up, magazine pages spilling over her fingers. “Isn’t this just the media trying to sell copies?”

I lean over and point to the picture of them on the golf cart. “This is inside the filming area. Non-film crew can’t get in.” I drag my finger across the page to the image of them getting into his car. “And the car park is out of the front gate’s line of sight. Director Yun strictly controls which images his team releases before filming ends, which means Brad’s assistant or someone he paid in the crew took these photos.”

“But—” She trails off, scanning the array of bright photos with narrowed eyes.

I lean my hands on the spread. “And my last piece of evidence, for the jury’s consideration, is the fact this story happened to find its way into all the major gossip publications at the same time. Not like a scoop that one journalist cottoned on to, leaving the other magazines chasing their tails to catch up with.”

Red stares at me, processing. “But why? How does this benefit Brad?”

---