Page 114 of Two For the Show
Dexter pushes to his feet, teeth bared and an edge in his voice. “You may want to turn around and leave, Richard.”
“Fuck you!” he shouts at my Alpha. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.”
“You should.” Jude’s voice is low and dangerous as he moves in front of the table to block Rich’s view of me. “I’m sure you’re aware of pack law that says if our Omegais threatened, we can utilize whatever force necessary to protect her. So run along.”
“She’smyscent match!” he shouts, gaining even more attention from the diners around us. “You can’t take her from me! I’ll Rot without her.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you sold me for a job and allowed me to be abused.” I move around Jude, unwilling to cower behind any Alpha, even ones that I love so much. “Before you abused me.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. It’s an Omega’s job to serve Alphas.”
Dario pops his head out from around Jude. “Oh, do I get to fuck him up now? I promise I’ll let everyone get a hit in. An Alpha piñata sounds so fun right about now.”
Quinton can’t hold back his snort of amusement. “He smells like a brewery; he may swerve too much for you to land a punch. Probably easier to trip him and let him bust his ugly face up on the pavement.”
Rich opens his mouth to say something shitty back when several police officers turn the corner. His face immediately pales as he looks at the large Alphas.
“Wow, can’t believe you were stupid enough to approach the Omega who accused you of abuse in public, confirming her allegations. I thought the caller had to have been mistaken about who was causing the disturbance,” one of them says, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sure the FDLE will be thrilled about this development.”
Rich starts to yell, threatening to have their jobs and sue the entire department, but they ignore him, cuffing his hands behind his back and giving me a nod.
“Dr. Shields. Sorry for the dinner interruption.”
I wave them away. “We’re on dessert anyway. Thanks for the show.”
As they lead Rich out, I know that this will be the nailin the coffin for him. There is no way anyone will believe he is a fine, upstanding Alpha after this gets out.
After we find our seats, Matteo pushes a fork and the dessert plate toward me. The black forest cake looks delicious, and when the flavors burst on my tongue, I make a little sound of pleasure.
“Now you know what it’s like for us,” my Beta says, eyes shining. “And why we’re all so addicted to you.”
“Do you want a bite?” I hold the fork up to him.
He shakes his head. “No, I’ll have mine back at the hotel.”
The justice system is slow.Television, books, and movies had led me to believe that my old pack would be imprisoned swiftly, removing the threat for good.
That is not the case.
It’s been three months since my press conference, and they’re all out on bail, awaiting trial. I turned over my medical records, which had details about my broken collarbone, which I told everyone at the hospital happened in a car accident. They recovered all the photos I took of my injuries from the cloud. I forgot that my old phone was synced to it, and all of that combined was enough to obtain a warrant for their arrest.
I know that it’s going to be a long process to trial, and that I will have to testify unless a plea is reached, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they don’t put their hands on another woman again.
Quinton flops onto the bed beside me, staring up at the ceiling.
I may be the troupe doctor, but I am certified in emergency medicine, not genetic diseases. A few weeks ago, I arranged an appointment for him with an Alpha Rot specialist that one of my former professors recommended.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, grabbing his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He underwent extensive testing, which included taking several vials of blood, performing an MRI, a CT scan, and a genome analysis. Today, they called us with the results.
“Honestly? It doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s not unheard of,” I remind him. “There have been cases where Alpha Rot has gone into full remission before.”
He chuckles, scrubbing his hand down his face. “I know. I didn’t think it’d be me, you know?”
The day that we found out we were scent matches, Quinton had passed out, his Rot so severe that his body shut down to preserve itself. It’s only been four months since he and I bonded, and he’s in complete remission. Now that he’s recovered, his chocolate donut scent is so much stronger, and it makes my mouth every time I get a whiff of it.
