“Let’s go to the VIP room,” Delilah suggests, leading the way through a sea of betas dressed as witches. It’s hard to see over their pointy hats, and I swear, one of them purposely jabs me with her broomstick. Bitches of Eastwick, more like.
Greeted by a mummy who hands us each a red cocktail served in a blood bag, the VIP room is much less crowded. The Silverwood Pack is already here and waves us over to join them in a corner booth. Like Faye, her alphas are dressed in gothic Mario costumes, a perfect blend of nerdiness and classic Halloween. Damon, as Bowser, wears a spiky leather jacket and a custom-made mask that mimics Bowser’s face, complete with horns. Ren and Laz are Mario and Luigi in red and green velvet jackets, suspenders, and with mustaches comically drawn on. Cole, who begrudgingly dressed as Toad, wears a mushroom-shaped top hat that looks just as ridiculous as I imagined. Also at the booth is Faye’s friend, Amora, and her pack.
The Silverwood and Princeton Packs have formed a tight bond since becoming neighbors. As great as it is to see Faye and other omegas happy with their alphas, it only confirms how much I don’t want that.
Suddenly, a werewolf jumps out at us from behind the giant mummy chamber in the center of the room, making Faye squeal and Delilah stumble.
Damon dashes over, his jaw tight, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
“Sorry!” Devon pulls off the large wolf mask, his piercings glinting off the disco lights. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“I-i-it’s okay,” Faye squeaks, a hand on her heart.
“He’s with me, Damon,” I reassure him. The alarm in Damon’s eyes dims, but it doesn’t completely go away as he wraps his arm around Faye’s shoulders. “I work with Devon atThe Valley Voice.”
Poor Devon looks more shaken up than Faye, after seeing the way her alphas are watching him.
“I hope your friend is okay.” Devon bites his lip as he watches Damon lead Faye back to the rest of her alphas. “I really didn’t mean?—”
“She’ll be fine now that she’s with her guys.” I wave away his worries. “Faye can be a little jumpy. Did you bring your camera like I asked?”
“I did, but you still haven’t told me what I’m here for. Your text was very cryptic. Has it got something to do with the story you’re working on about the Blandon Pack rigging the scent match?” He scowls. “Someone really needs to put those asshats in their place.”
“Actually, there’s something I need to tell you?—”
Before I can provide any more of an explanation, I catch a whiff of synthetic cologne and lingering body odor. It grows stronger, filling me with dread, as if I’m watching a shark fin slicing its way through the water toward me.
“Speak of the devil,” Delilah mutters, physically recoiling.
I had been hoping to enjoy some time with my friends before getting ready for my Oscar-winning performance, but all my hopes are dashed when I see Tyler. He swaggers toward me in his costume, his movements almost robotic, like someone else has control over his wooden limbs. Kyro and Shea flank him, each wearing crowns that look like they’ve been fashioned from bones and black suits over the top of skeleton glow-in-the-dark T-shirts that match my dress. Tyler told me they didn’t have VIP tickets, so I don’t understand why they’re here now.
“We’ve been looking for you, Kady,” Tyler says, zapping all the fun from the air.
Delilah and Sabs don’t move, crossing their arms like protective bodyguards at my sides.
“We were supposed to meet later,” I say to him through gritted teeth while trying to keep my expression neutral.
The VIP area is quieter than the main club, but watchful gazes make my skin prickle as a few onlookers point their phones in our direction. These are the kind of candid shots that I live for as a reporter, but after having cameras shoved in my face throughout my childhood, I hate being in the foreground.
“We thought we’d surprise you.” Tyler shoots me a shit-eating grin. Yeah, a surprise as welcome as a thorn in the ass. “Sweetheart.”
Whenever a man calls mesweetheart, I usually point them in the direction of the nearest bridge to jump off. However, I attempt a smile, even though my lips morph into a frown that makes my cheeks ache.
“We thought you’d be happy to see us,” Kyro simpers. His shirt clings to him tightly, showcasing large wet patches under his arms. Couldn’t he have at least put on antiperspirant? “We thought we could go down to the dance floor.”
“Yeah.” Shea winks, licking his lips. “We’d like to show off our omega.”
“That wasn’t the plan,” I hiss. “We were supposed to meet before leaving and be pictured exiting.”
“Your omega?” Devon looks between us, his jaw dropping in a mixture of confusion and horror. “What?—”
“You heard right.” Tyler speaks so loudly that the people standing at the nearest high-top table can hear. “Kady Sinclair is the Blandon omega.”
Face twisting in pure anguish, Devon looks like he’s about to transition into a real werewolf. “Kady, I don’t know what’s going on, but?—”
“Report what you see, Devon.” I implore him through my eyes . “Please.”
He nods, dazed, clutching onto his camera with white knuckles as Faye and her pack approach. None of her alphas look happy to see the Blandon Pack, and Kyro’s lip pulls back into a snarl.
