Bringing Sabs toTheValley Voiceoffice would be asking for trouble. For a college paper, we get a surprising amount of juicy gossip tips sent to our inbox—some of which are far too salacious to print or post on our socials. If Sabs caught wind of any news, it’d spread around campus like wild fire because of her loud mouth.
“We’re here for you, Kady.” Delilah takes my hand and squeezes it. “Whatever happens.”
“I’m sorry for ruining your breakfast, Faye.” I jump up from the picnic blanket then wipe myself down to get rid of loose sand. Thankfully, I’m ahead on all of my assignments, so I have free time to chase the story and find myself a fake pack.
“Don’t worry, there will be plenty of other breakfasts,” Faye insists. “All that matters is that you’re all right.”
“I will be.” I grab my purse. “After I’ve found my fake pack.”
I march across the beach toward the waiting golf cart that we drove here in—they’re the quickest way to get around campus. I hop behind the wheel then speed away. There’s no time to waste when I have to find a fake pack before Dad forces me down the aisle.
I’m an omega on a mission.
TWO
Kady
“Hi Kady!” Mei is busy cleaning her already spotless shop window. The scent of garlic and ginger wafts from the open door of Noodles and Chill, making me salivate instantly. “Wanna try my new dumpling filling?”
TheValley Voiceoffice is located right above the Chinese restaurant. The best part? The lovely owner, Mei, gives everyone who works for the paper a special discount and samples of her latest menu items. When I’m working late on a deadline, her dim sum is about all that gets me through the night.
“They sound amazing, but I can’t today.” My stomach twists with instant regret. “Maybe next time.”
“You’ve caught a lead, huh?” Mei grins. She knows me well. “You’re like a bloodhound when you catch a story.” Yep, and even more so when tracking down the source means I won’t have to marry a massive alpha-hole. “Good luck!”
“Thanks,” I reply grimly, waving goodbye as I open the door and take the stairs two at a time.
The rickety staircase groans beneath my feet in protest. Someone probably needs to replace the floorboards before they crumble and someone falls into a vat of noodles below, but the rundown office has a certain charm.
My lungs beg for air when I pause at the door covered with flaking paint and stickers. Despite the signs of wear,TheValley Voice’sgold sign gleams.
I knew I wanted to work forTheValley Voicebefore I even arrived at SVU. It’s more than your average college paper; it’s steeped in tradition. Everyone reads it, and it’s the lifeblood of campus. I wanted to be part of that. Part of something that makes a real impact. Although my law major keeps me busy, my desire to expose the truth is at the heart of everything I do. In fact, my thirst for a good story is one of the only similarities I share with my father—only he prefers to twist a narrative, while I focus on the facts.
When Dad found my draft application to become a reporter, he swooped in to make a generous donation and put in a special word with Dean Rivers. Although his actions pretty much guaranteed me a coveted spot, I wanted to earn my place. I withdrew my application, created a new one using a fake name, and earned my place based on merit alone. Although money can buy most things you want, I was determined to prove that I had what it takes.
I let myself into the office to find my editor, Leah, frowning at her laptop screen with what is surely a cold cup of coffee by her side. I keep insisting that she switch to iced coffee because she’s always too distracted to drink anything hot, but she refuses.
“Kady?” Leah looks up from her work. “I wasn’t expecting you. Are you trying to impress me?” She arches an eyebrow. “You know you don’t need to do extra hours to prove yourself. You’ve already done more than enough.”
Leah basically lives in the office. She’s tenacious with an eye for detail and isn’t afraid to hold people accountable. She’s transferring to another college to be closer to family, so she’s looking to hire her replacement before she leaves.
“Actually, I’m following a lead.”
“Well, don’t forget about the editor job.” Her fingers fly across the keyboard. “The deadline closes in a few days, remember? I’d love to see your application on my desk.”
I’ve already spent hours crafting my application to perfection. Being an editor is a huge responsibility, but I know I can handle it. However, this fake pack situation may make things a little more complicated.
“Thanks.” I wink. “You know I never miss a deadline.”
I gaze across the office, which is a disorganized mess of mismatched desks. Despite the chaotic appearance, the room has its own heartbeat, and a simmering excitement hangs in the air. Shelves stuffed with precariously stacked copies ofTheValley Voiceissues dating back decades line the walls, reminding us that we’re all a small part of a bigger history. If I got the editor position, I’d spend my evenings and weekends reorganizing them in chronological order to give them the space they deserve.
Every writer has their own desk, lamp, and a filing cabinet. Some have chosen to decorate their work stations with trinkets and photographs, but I keep mine minimal—pens lined up, headphones, and emergency snacks in the top drawer. Only the essentials. I work best without distractions.
The entrances to our photography department and darkroom are on the far end of the room along with larger tables, where we lay out spreads for physical issues. Although print is a dying medium, for the sake of the dean and to give everyone something concrete to use in their portfolios when applying for future jobs,TheValley Voicestill has a physical bi-weekly paper. However, the main source of our traffic comes from the online blog. Fortunately, Dean Rivers doesn’t pay too much attention to our blog or socials, which gives us a lot of creative freedom.
My chair creaks as I collapse into it, set my laptop down, and put on my thin, silver-framed glasses. I’m all set.
Aside from me and Leah, the only other person in the office is Devon, who sits opposite me and takes off his headphones to greet me. He rocks feathery bangs, a green, spiky mohawk, and has more piercings in his face than I can count. He writes our popular “Ask an Alpha” column, which offers hilarious, honest, no-bullshit advice.
