A woman with pink hair and more tattoos than visible skin materializes in front of us. “You’re the new omega, right?” She zeroes in on me.
I smile warmly at her despite not knowing if she’s secretly press out to get me. I guess I’ll never know, and to always assume the worst will only invite the worst. No. I need to keep optimism alive. “Yes, I am. I’m Emery.”
She sticks out her hand, grinning wide. “I’m Kacey. They hired me to live-post today’s event. I’ll try to keep everyone in a good light.”
I shake her hand. “Thank you, Kacey.”
I don’t think she meant her words in a bad way, but my anxiety can’t help but latch on to thetryportion of her statement. As if she’ll move with however event attendees do. I suppose there’s some degree of good transparency there knowing she’s not hired to only paint Everhart Pack in a good light. But I’ve seen how the press can tear people apart. We all have.
Kacey vanishes into the crowd, and I’m left blinking after her, trying to process what just happened.
The rest of the hour is a blur. I shake hands with a minor celebrity, pose for a group photo with a giant check, and answer questions about “the future of the Everhart Pack” like I have that answer with Ranier on the outs. Bastion hovers close, but never touches, and Wyatt is a constant presence at my elbow, gently intercepting anyone who tries to get too familiar.
At some point, Ranier arrives. He cuts through the crowd like a shark in a business suit, nodding at the right people and freezing out anyone who tries to get in his way. He doesn’t look at me, not even once, but I can feel the pressure of his presence like a hand at the back of my neck.
Ranier takes the stage and gives a speech that’s just short of heartfelt. There’s a smattering of applause, a few camera flashes, and a general sense that no one really knows what to make of us when Ranier—for arguably the first time in public—addresses us as a full pack.
The reception is awkward but not as bad as I feared. I hover near the food table and stress-eat three cookies before reporters find me. I have no choice with Wyatt and Bastion tied up on their own but to field questions about my “integration into the prestigious Everhart household” from people who definitely don’t care about me. I keep my answers warm and my smile big.
Much of myintegrationis now going just fine. There’s just one rather large issue with that.
I glance at Ranier. He’s on the other side of the room schmoozing up to the press. He still hasn’t looked at me, but I’m starting to think it’s less pointed neglect and more a stubborn plan.
Ranier doesn’twantto look at me. Because if he did, he’d see how well our whole pack is doing today. He’d have to accept that a commoner omega really can handle royal events.
Wyatt finds me eventually. He sets a cup of punch in front of me and leans in so close I can feel his breath on my ear. “You’re killing it.”
“Am I?” I ask, genuinely unsure.
He nods. “You look like you belong here. More than the rest of us.”
I want to believe him, but all I can think about is the way Ranier is trying so hard to pretend like I don’t exist when he’s not required to address us all as a whole pack.
I sip the punch. It’s too sweet and not nearly alcoholic enough.
“Do you ever get used to this?” I ask, waving at the chaos around us.
Wyatt considers. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I think you could.”
I look at him, really look, and I see something there I haven’t seen in a long time.
Hope.
We stay there, side by side, watching how much good we can do in the world. Our presence here for the donation drive has gone far beyond stupid Council-required PR and really made an impact.
I survey everything that’s been donated today. Food, housing items, clothes, and more—it’s all laid out between the floods of people here to donate and meet us at the same time.
This is what it’s really about.A pack is everything, don’t get me wrong. I’ve wanted nothing but to be a park of a packand be a good omega since I was given a designation. But going to finishing school and trying to become a royal’s omega was always aboutthis.
Building a better community. Helping others. Doing good.
I hope Rainer sees that past his family’s expectations… and the ones he has for himself.
Eventually Wyatt wanders off and I get back to work. Ranier still makes no effort to move toward me, so I decide to put him out of mind and focus on what we’re doing here. It’s hard to ignore all the reporters lurking in wait for someone to slip up and say something that tanks the Council’s careful messaging.
As if on cue, a woman with platinum hair and teeth too perfect to be real sidles up. She’s got a press badge and an aura of professional murder.
She beams. “Emery Grey, right? Can we get a quote for the evening edition?”
