Page 16 of The Gift
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I spoke without thinking my question through properly. My mistake.”
“Oh please, you made a mistake? The great Bailey Henderson? Of course there’s no running cameras when we need one,” Ted, one of the camera people laughs, and the rest of the team follow suit. Strangely the alpha team—A-team seems like a better nickname—don’t.
“Okay, so hypothetically we find an omega, what happens next?” Carmen asks.
“Aren’t you forgetting the fundamentals of the concept? Every one of those subjects was genetically modified. For some reason, one of the manipulations the scientists were the keenest on was the masking of some of the omegas’ traits,” I add, borrowing my sass from Carmen to speak again.
“We’ve been able to gather from a lot of the papers the research team left behind, and they were only partially successful in that regard. I’d like to suggest that Mother Nature by far is stronger. And nothing, no man-made serum or chemical composition, is going to change that. At the end of the day, the greatest gift nature gave us was providing every person on this planet with their perfect alpha and pack match. And that is why we’re involved, because I want those omegas to have their chance. Their chance of finding their happiness, safety, love, however you want to define it. We fucked up as a society and also as a pack once before. I can assure you, we won’t again,” Ashton says. He’s clearly very good at working a room. He walks around a little, stopping as he turns to ensure he’s still got everyone’s attention. Of course he does, everyone is leaning forward lost in the emotion of his little speech.
I scoff before I can even think twice.
“It sounds like you believe you and your pack are the answers to every one of those omegas’ problems. Like you, and only you, can bring them out of hiding and then you have the magic for them to embrace the very thing they are running from. You forget the world we live in, where we’re still faced with such diametrically opposed views on omegas—are they possessions or people, because even the government and your own kind can’t answer that. I don’t think you’ll win the trust of any of the omegas you find, you forget how fucking scarred, scared, and broken they would be. No alpha is going to be able to fix the damage done, because like I said, you can’t even decide if they are people or not. And on that note, goodnight.”
The silence is resounding, and the stunned look on everyone’s faces haunts me as I turn and walk away. Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, making me shake like a leaf, I close the door softly, the click of the latch barely audible.
Bailey
The next few days get frantic, chaos made worse by the complete morons we have to endure. The first day of filming was spent with the most opinionated bunch of walking dildos I have ever had the displeasure of interviewing. And I’ve interviewed a lot of wankers.
I apply a fresh dusting of powder in the vain hope of hiding my contempt at what a disgusting bunch Pack Miller are. Led by a self-declared enigmatic alpha, like seriously, he provided a resume like document with that exacting descriptive. It was hard not to shove my painted nails down his throat and claw out his uvula before inserting it up his nostril in the hopes of suffocating the self-opinionated twat.
Pack Miller are led by Taylor Miller. Taylor Miller is led by no one but himself. And how delightful, he’s one of those alphas that still wants his Regalo omega. He keeps reiterating he’ll do nothing to stop getting exactly what he paid for too.
Do I feel good sitting across from him, knowing who I am without him having a clue about me? You bet your last dollar I do. This is why I am doing what I am doing. Because without a doubt the whole world needs to see who lives and breathes the same air as they do. This self-opinionated, chauvinistic asshole does, that’s who.
My head pounds, crushing is a better description, but it’s the pressure of being in their presence along with what they say, how they act. If I am not talking, I’m clenching my jaw so tight I could crack walnuts, or wisdom teeth. Tension bleeds through every part of me, and even after the extra precautionary scent blockers I took before walking in the doors, the scent they omit as a pack still hits me so hard. They smell of conceit and vinegar, not tasty, rich balsamic either, straight up, eye watering white vinegar, so sour it could strip paint.
“Okay, we can do the last few questions when you’re ready, Alpha Miller.” Simone darts in with the film slate. The petite beta is whippet like: lithe, fast, and easily wound up, but she’s also got such a huge damn heart and a lot of courage.
“Let’s get this done. I want an electronic version of this after edit and as stipulated our pack gets first mention on credits.” His voice cracks through the room like a whip, keeping everyone on their toes.
I start reciting all the French I can remember from school in my head instead of letting Alpha Miller and his pack see how much they’re affecting me. I need the focus. I keep gravitating between loud, evident scorn and all out terror, because I do realise that these are the exact people I was made for. And while that is frightening as shit, it is also a bit of an anchor, keeping me here but pushing me to do better. I am better.
“Ready when you are, Bailey,” Simone approaches quietly, like she doesn’t want to startle me. Which in itself is a good reminder to maintain my current persona and professionalism a little more.
“Make up lines?” I twist and turn my face at her, and she winks, stepping out of the way so I can retake my seat.
“You good to go again? We really appreciate your time, Alpha.” I smile demurely and straighten my hem before sitting next to him. A scratching down my spine accompanies his attention on my bare legs. I may have dressed in his eyes inappropriately, but a lot of people wear skirts a couple of inches above the knees these days, much to the Millers’ distaste.
Pack Miller sit in rank, six of them, each as coffered and anally repressed as the next. And look, I’m all for grooming and precision, men in suits are glorious, but these guys take the uniformed approach too far, which only adds to the menace that beats out of their judgemental eyes.
Taylor’s lip press, irritated at my question, or maybe it’s my voice in general, although it matches the condescending attitude and harsh clip of his responses. I take it as my cue to start.
Simone bravely leans into the centre of the set and claps the board together, signalling the cameras are rolling.
“Taylor…” I start.
He interrupts me even before my lips close, “Alpha Miller.”
I barely miss a beat, despite the diss that screams in my head at him, correcting myself to start again. “Alpha Miller, your pack is synonymous with success and discipline, and you’ve been particularly vocal about what you perceive to be…”
“Not perceived,” he snaps, like another sharp crack of a horseman’s whip.
I blink quickly to hide my natural response at his alpha bark, smiling tightly at him, which is a difficult feat considering parts of me, rightly or wrongly, naturally want to beg for him instead. I push past his influences in the hope that he digs his own grave, although sadly without a doubt, there are sure to be supporters of his extremist and chauvinistic view.
“The Regalo Project was making headways in their breakthrough. Honestly, the results documented showed that they were making scientific progress. And with progress comes both opportunity and growth.” He talks over the top of me, his voice maintaining a harsh bark like tone even knowing it’s not needed.
“And you have no concern that the experiments involving genetic manipulation resulted in injury and reported death to some of those involved?” I recite one of the questions that was vetted by him and his team, looking straight down the camera while I do.
