“Hi, I’m hoping you can help me…?” I clear my throat. “One of your chocolate peanut cupcakes was delivered toTheValley Voiceat SVU today.” I wrack my brain. “The note must have fallen off during delivery, so I’m wondering if you can tell me who sent it and who it was delivered to?”
“Oh no!” She genuinely sounds upset. “I always try to make sure my notes are tightly secured. Let me check my book.” There’s ruffling in the background. “Ah, yes. It was a delivery to Calder Soren.”
“And what about the sender?”
“There’s nothing written down here.” I hear pages flipping, then her voice brightens. “But I do remember him coming in to place the order.”
“Let me guess.” I swallow a growl. “A tall alpha, probably in a football shirt, smelling like he just walked in after a night at the bar?”
“That’s it.” The woman laughs. “I remember him well. I didn’t expect him to place an order. Very particular about wanting extra peanuts, if I recall correctly.”
I thank her for her help then hang up. “Case closed.”
I don’t know how Kyro found out about Calder’s allergy, but it looks like I should’ve taken the Blandon Pack’s threat more seriously.
“Does it usually take you thirty seconds to crack a case?” Calder teases.
“Not many people are as stupid as Kyro.” I blow out a frustrated breath. “The Blandon Pack seems to think that it’s your fault that our fake pack arrangement didn’t work out. They thought they’d have omegas falling at their feet by now.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Calder waves off my concern. “I’ve dealt with worse than a pack of childish pricks.”
Shocked, I blink up at him a few times. “You’re not mad at me?”
I expected him to fly off the handle, given his strong reaction to when he first found me at his apartment.
“No. You didn’t try to poison me,” he shrugs. “What I’m more worried about is a pack of alphas who pose a threat to your—I mean, a reporter’s—safety.”
“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” I roll my eyes. “Besides, it’s my mess to fix.”
“I’m the one who received a peanut cupcake, so it’s my mess too,” he counters. “I’m here to talk, if you want to. Believe itor not, I understand what you’re going through more than you think.”
“Yeah, because you’ve had your life splashed all over the place and have been ruined by a public scandal,” I mutter sarcastically.
“Actually, my parents were at the center of a huge scandal when I was growing up. It took them years to get past it.” He looks down at his lap, lost in his own thoughts. “For years, we had to think before we acted, constantly feeling watched, like our choices were public fodder. It can take a toll on you.”
My mouth opens and closes, not knowing what to say. “I-I didn’t know.”
When I saw a photograph of Calder’s family when we first met, I thought they looked familiar. Now it makes sense. I’ve probably seen them in a paper at some point.
“I’ll save you the trouble of searching yourself.” Calder folds his arms over his chest. “My mom is an omega. She was promised to another pack when she ran away to bond with my dads, her scent matches. After that, her family disowned her. They all struggled to get a job and were basically shunned by everyone they used to know. This was all before the Omega Rights Act when omegas were pretty much sold and traded in high society circles for business purposes.” He sighs wistfully. “She only recently reconnected with her siblings, but so much time was lost.”
“That must have been so hard.” I can easily imagine how difficult that would’ve been. “For all of them. Your mom sounds so brave.”
I relate to Calder’s mom. The expectations, the pressure. The Omega Rights Act provides me with more legal protection, but some people—my father included—are still stuck in the past.
“She is, but it hasn’t been easy.” Calder runs a hand through his beachy, short waves. In this light, his light brown hairtakes on a golden hue. “They all believe that true love conquers everything, but some of what happened.” He shakes his head. “The rumors, the way the media cast my dads as predatory villains, people even called them bite-jackers.” His jaw clenches. “I lost count of how many times I heard Mom crying herself to sleep over it.”
“I’m so sorry, Calder.” I reach out to touch his bicep, then quickly yank back my hand. I’m sure my comfort is the last thing he wants. “I know how cruel the media can be, mainly because my father often has us at the center of it.”
“That’s why I want to be a reporter.” He straightens his posture. “I don’t want to write biased pieces, dragging the names and reputations of innocent people through the mud. I write to expose the truth. No lies. No bullshit. Just facts.”
“So that’s why you were so angry when you learned that I lied about my name to your pack?”
He sighs, looking out the window and scrubbing his hand over his face. “I understand why you did it.”
“But you don’t trust me.”
“I want to.” He peers over at me, his words and the look in his eyes causing my heart to skip a beat.
