Page 24 of The Gift
“We’ve been promoting their involvement, so it could have been from anywhere. They haven’t said. Our media blast though includes the A-team in everything we do. It has to be from that.”
“And they didn’t want to tell us? I thought the deal was we’re there every step of the way.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Apparently Henley and Ashton changed the rules again. Donnie agreed for some reason, so don’t bitch at me.”
“I wasn’t going to! But that’s pretty crap. Surely we should have been told and gone with them.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. At least we’ve got the details now. Let’s go.”
She races back towards the exit, and by the time the lifts arrive, the whole team is waiting, asking questions, wanting updates.
Everyone looks the same: stunned and excited. After all this time planning and hoping, they’ve actually done it. It’s surreal.
Once the lift opens to the basement garage, everyone scatters to their cars to grab overnight bags. We’ve all spent the past few days ready for any sign much like expectant mothers.
“They found an omega,” Ben tells me frantically, clearly forgetting I was in the lift with him. But he’s got the same glassy eyed stunned look on his face as do the rest of the team. “They found a fucking omega!”
Apparently, we’ve gone from talking unicorns, to finding them and swearing like troopers too. His reaction is warranted though. Everyone is bubbling with excitement. I feel it too, along with a healthy dose of holy shit, fuck on a stick, give me strength rolled into one big, barely disguised moment of sheer panic.
And then it’s like a rush of activity, all of us realising the implication of the discovery as we race for the cars ready and waiting for us. Within no time at all, we’re travelling in a speeding convoy out of the city, people are talking on their mobiles, the CB chattering between cars makes it difficult to think.
“Shit,” I hiss. Shaking my head when Carmen swings around to see what the problem is. “I was going to drive. I left half my gear in my car.” Half my gear, including my scent blocker, my supply of suppressants and my ‘alpha’ gel. Hell, these guys might get the scoop of the century if I keep being so sloppy.
I sit staring out the window, pissed off at myself. I’m better than this, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow. The A-team have blitzed my head though, I swear it. They keep making me as dizzy as I was when I was sick too. The last couple of days I’ve been feeling slightly better but then one of them pops into my office, delivering food or checking to make sure I’ve not relapsed.
“Bailey, we can always get one of the team to drop it over. You’ll never get this, she’s only half an hour away. Apparently runs a tiny pet cottage. How goddamn sweet is that?” Carmen says as soon as she hangs up the call she was on.
“A pet cottage?”
“Yeah, you know, you drop Snoopy over, and she hand makes their food, promises they sleep on the bed with her, etcetera, etcetera. It’s so sugary sweet it makes my teeth hurt. I hope she’s got one of the dogs there when we arrive, because hot damn that will be great footage.”
Maybe she’s right, but I’m still stuck on the fact that the discovery is so close to home, while simultaneously praying we won’t be doing a double reveal. My nerves are going through my system sending my body into disarray. And I haven’t even thought about the fact that there’s a huge risk that the omega they’ve found will be one from the actual lab and they’ll recognise me. Although seven years is a long time. I’ve gone from gawky teenager to where I am today, including a few necessary modifications along the way.
We pull up after only thirty minutes, the part of me freaking out relaxes because the part I’ve layered myself under, the presenter junkie comes out to play. Big time. The buzz I get from being involved in a breaking story, is like a mind-bending high. It’s gratification at its finest, and the rush I get from working is addictive. Consuming everything else in its path. Me included.
The reality of what we’re doing is everywhere and in everything we do. The camera crew are a blur of action as they power up, while the sound guys start pulling out the big guns: the fluffy extender mic. It’s a hustle and bustle, and I get caught up as much as they do. We’ve also got security that accompanies us, especially after our day of filming with Pack Miller. Since then, they’ve been pushing their bigoted views through social media along with holding press conferences to keep the topic hot and relevant. All it does is highlight how fucking dangerous they are. We’ve already had a couple of sign-holding protestors descend on our downtown office, but thankfully the police moved them on. But it’s left us with bodyguards, and in a state of unease.
Carmen races past me, coming to a screeching stop, face to face with Koda doing his impersonation of a door again. Although, this time he stands stoically with three other overly muscled alphas, forming an impenetrable wall. The four of them standing shoulder to shoulder baring her entry. Her. As in Exposé Media, the people that are paying Koda, and his pack to do the job of finding the omegas.
I stop, unsure of my next step which is plain fucking weird. Usually, I’d be pole vaulting my way inside, now though, I’m questioning how long it would take to tunnel under the road to avoid all this. Walking past three unknown alphas is something I have avoided for a long, long time. If it was only Koda, I’d make an excuse to go the long way around, but I’d go.
For the first time in my career, I hang back. And watch. Maybe even freak out a smidge.
“Step aside,” Carmen demands. Her back is to me, but she’s turned up the volume. She’s clearly furious. The tartness of her anger is a surprise. It reaches me like a slap across my face as I wait by the cars.
“I can’t let you through. Sorry, Carmen. Henley’s been very clear—no one is getting through the gates, right now.” Koda shakes his head, not afraid of her raging up in front of him.
I watch him as much as I watch her. From here, I can see the resolution and stubborn set of his broad shoulders, but I’m not sure she can see what she’s doing. While trying to make her point, or ensure her demands are being heard, she’s riling up the other alphas standing beside Koda, making them edgy. Not nervous, which would be easier to deal with. No, they’re getting impatient and frustrated, rising up in challenge and matching her increasing temper with their own.
She spins around, oblivious to the way they’re responding to her. I can see, in the way they crack their necks and grow in inches almost that they’re reaching their patience limit. Carmen throws her hands wide, keeping her back to me, but it’s like watching a car wreck about to happen. I can’t look away, despite wanting to. She gestures again, takes a step so she’s all up in Koda’s face and the other alphas watching, take a step up to match hers. Grabbing her phone, she postures and speaks loudly.
I’m honestly beside myself, lost in how she keeps missing the signals they are clearly giving off. From my place near the cars, I can see it plain as day, yet Carmen doesn’t even hear the low warning rumbles tumbling out their clenched jaws. Everyone is dismissing the danger as it circles around like rain about to drop. I’m completely drawn, basically locked into seeing, and feeling the whole scene transpire.
I’ve never been a fan of tension or conflict. If I had to describe that feeling, it would be like running a cheese grater over my skin, and with reason, I avoid it whenever possible. It might be worse because of my change of suppressants. But Carmen’s distress saturates and adds to the happening shit storm of conflict in front of me. Of course, the alphas respond to what she’s giving off, and when she hangs up, dashing forward, I whimper.
“Hey, Bailey,” a voice from next to me has me frozen on the spot, the air stuck in my lungs. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
As he keeps speaking, slowly, calmly, I can feel myself leaning towards him. Instinctively my body responds knowing he has the ability to shelter, while another part of me unashamedly seeks out more of the soothing calmness in his voice. When Ashton takes another step forward, his familiar scent that reminds me of summer rain and endless protection and warmth—does that even have a smell—rushes around promising he has the ability too.
