Page 2 of The Gift
“Our eyes?” I interrupt.
He scoffs without answering, maintaining his angry glare at the flames. There’s conflict coating every part of him. I can smell the stinging tartness of his emotions as much as I can pick up the sweetness of the beer we’re drinking.
“We think it’s possible she might be one of the younger ones too. It would have made her seventeen, eighteen tops at the time.”
“Fuck,” Koda says, dropping his beer. The bottle lands with a thud against the thick black Persian carpet. Everyone watches him fumble as he swipes the bottle before it spills more than a few drops. He dashes out to the kitchen, returning with more beers and also a cloth to dab over the stain on the carpet.
Once done, he stands looking at Henley and Ashton. “If she’s doing okay, can’t we leave her alone?”
Ashton rises out of his seat, tugging down the sleeves of his dark suit jacket, smoothing his dark blond hair off his face. Much like our alpha, our second in command looks rattled. His crystal blue eyes resembling the swirling arctic wind over the southern hemisphere.
“We can. But if we’ve found her that means…”
Ashton doesn’t need to finish the sentence. The four of us understand too well. The escaped omegas are being hunted down, stolen from their beds in some cases and the images of their brutal end waved in front of us. Someone is playing, taunting us, like a matador does an enraged bull.
It started with one barb thrust unexpectedly between our shoulders nearly a year after we started becoming more prolific and vocal within certain circles. And each year it continues.
The confession from both of them explains the burden.
“One day, I want to wake up and know everything we’re doing has been worth it. Because let me tell you, I’ve gone the extra mile on this one. I’m not sure I’ll be able to forgive myself. And yet I’m still asking you all to jump on board and support me, but it’s not the first time nor will it be the last.”
“Henley…” I interrupt him, nearly barking a command at him until the rage in his eyes stops me. Even from his perched position on our leather sectional, his commanding presence makes me feel small. And that’s saying something. At just over six feet, I can move with a speed and accuracy that ensures I’m stronger and deadlier than a lot of other alphas we mix with. But Henley is our alpha and not only because he’s a moody cunt sometimes. You can never forget the power he can exude.
He stares at me, until the rage changes, regret bubbling instead. He flicks his eyebrow up. “Wait until you see, Reno. Then you’ll understand what I’ve done.”
Bailey
“So, what do you think?” Carmen asks slowly as she uncharacteristically chews on her lip. She’s not usually so… considerate. Carmen is brash, manipulative, loud and displays a lot of the attributes an alpha does. Though, her beta DNA means it’s all an act. A good one though.
Like any good leader, she somehow has the rest of our team waiting with bated breath too. All of them hanging on to the edge of their seats, waiting for my answer.
Looking away from them, I watch the images from the mock promo they used to sell the idea to me while I figure out the right way to answer. The team hit the spot, choosing a series of hauntingly beautiful images that have me salivating for more. Just because I want more, does it mean it’s a good thing to do?
The slow movement of the curling ribbon at the end is the icing on the cake. And without looking at them, I can feel their attention burning into the side of my face impatiently. I press play on the remote and watch the short clip again, constantly asking myself what I think?
When I turn back to face them, a wave of discomfort hits, surprising me. I’m not a wallflower as such, but the way they’re so focused, searching my face for a clue, makes me wipe the edge of my lips in case I’ve got the froth from my green juice stuck on them.
I should be used to scrutiny by now, from both the public and the people I work with. In some ways I am, in other ways it makes me anxious that I’m not doing a good enough job at keeping my secret. And then on bad days, it feels like they all see through the lie and are simply waiting for the right time to fuck me over completely.
It takes a couple of moments to rein in my doubts, and to remember who I am. Once I do, I smile back confidently at everyone. And yeah, method acting is a real thing.
“And what are you thinking of calling it?” I ask. The title is poised on my lips, but I want them to say it. It wouldn’t take a clairvoyant to figure it out; they’re all projecting pretty loudly.
I lean back in my chair and look down my nose at them, tipping my eyebrow up expectantly.
“Bailey, if you can’t figure that out…” one of the camera guys mumbles, shaking his head, but I interrupt him.
“I’d say you’re calling it The Gift, right?”
Everyone nods or smiles like we’ve solved one of the riddles of the world. With concerted effort, I lock down the rising tide of trepidation and hide it under feigned excitement. I smile widely, laughing like you’d expect.
“Run me through it again,” I answer, picking up my juice to hide my anxiety. My finger taps furiously under the table against my leg, away from curious eyes.
Carmen, the youngest Executive Producer to grace the halls of Exposé Media, sits back, smug as a bug. An air of confidence and celebration settles around her like an expensive cashmere blanket. She knows it’s a done deal already. Her sweet and soft approach to start with, a complete guise—she’s a bull in a China shop when she wants something.
In our planning meeting, way down in the furthest, darkest corner of Exposé Media’s glass fronted skyscraper, we’re all on an even footing despite the roles we play. This ‘flat’ style of teamwork has been harder for some to adjust to, but the more time that passes the stronger our team is becoming. We’ve all got a voice and we make decisions as a team. Outside these doors, we all have our own role to play. Some more than others.
“This December marks the seventh-year anniversary of the events of Regalo.”
