The rapid-fire delivery makes me want to smile, despite everything. “It’s not a big deal,” I say, stepping around them toward the building. “We’re just—“
But Adrian moves with me, keeping pace at my side. “So what’s the protocol here?” he asks, his tone casual. “Do I sign up for sleepovers, or is there a waiting list? A points system? Some kind of omega presentation bracket I don’t know about?”
The word—omega—makes something in my chest tighten. I swat at his arm without thinking, the gesture familiar despite everything that’s changed. “Stop,” I say firmly. “I’m not talking about this with you. Either of you. It‘s not happening.”
But Adrian catches my wrist as I pull back, his grip gentle enough that I could break it without trying. His teasing expression fades into something warmer, more genuine. “Hey,” he says, his voice dropping. “I‘m kidding. Mostly. But the offer stands, Maya. For real. If you need rides, or someone nearby overnight, or just... someone who gets what’s happening. I’m here. We both are.”
He gestures to Bash, who nods once, his usual smile replaced by something more subdued. “Whatever you need,” he says simply. “No questions or teasing. Just... we‘re here. If you want us to be.”
The offer catches me off guard more than the teasing ever could.
I open my mouth to refuse, to tell them I’m fine, that I don‘t need their help, that whatever’s happening is between me and Elias and no one else. But the words die in my throat as I remember how it felt last night—how my body relaxed the moment Elias stepped into my space, how the constant, crawling tension under my skin eased just enough to notice, how the heatthat’s been building since this all started settled into something manageable.
How much easier everything was with him there.
They see the hesitation—I can tell by the way Adrian’s expression shifts, the teasing edge fading completely. “Hey,” he says, his tone light. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”
The question catches me off guard. “What? Why?”
“Just...” He holds out his hand, palm up. “Trust me?”
I hesitate, then reach into my pocket, pulling out my phone. He takes it, his fingers brushing mine just briefly as the device changes hands.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching as he taps at the screen.
“Putting my number in,” he says without looking up. “And Bash‘s. So you have them. For whenever. No pressure, no expectations. Just... If you need us.”
The gesture catches me off guard. I expected teasing. Maybe curiosity. Not this.
He hands the phone to Bash, who taps something quickly before passing it back. “There,” Adrian says as I take it. “Now you’ve got options. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. We’re here.”
I look down at the screen, suddenly aware of what he’s done. My contacts list is open, two new entries at the top. Bash’s is straightforward—just his name, nothing fancy. But Adrian’s...
I stare at the screen, heat crawling up my neck. He’s saved himself as “my alpha.” Not “Adrian” or “Adrian Wells” or even“A. Wells” like he would for a professional contact. “My alpha.” Like it’s already been decided. Like he‘s making a claim without having the conversation first.
I look up, ready to tell him exactly what I think of that particular bit of presumption, but he’s already moving away, throwing a casual “see you later” over his shoulder as he heads for the building. Bash follows, shooting me an amused look as he passes.
“Subtle,” he says, the word just loud enough for me to hear. “Real subtle.”
And then they’re gone, disappearing through the employee entrance with the confidence of people who know exactly where they belong. I‘m left standing in the parking lot, phone still in my hand, heat still crawling up my neck, caught between irritation and something more complicated.
It’s only when I start to turn toward the building that I remember Elias—still standing exactly where I left him, ten paces back. His expression is unreadable, his attention fixed entirely on me.
“He’s not wrong,” he says. “You do have options, Maya. You’re not dealing with this alone.”
“I know,” I say, and mean it.
I turn toward the building before I can change my mind, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The morning stretches ahead of me—a full day of filming, a hundred details to track, a thousand problems to solve. Normal things. Familiar things. Things that have nothing to do with being an omega or potential alphas. Things that felt uncomplicated a week ago.
If only it stayed that way.
I push through the employee entrance, the familiar hum of the studio wrapping around me like a second skin. People nod as I pass—the security guard by the door, the PA hurrying to craft services, the gaffer discussing something with her team by the lighting rig. Normal interactions. Familiar patterns. The world continuing exactly as it should.
Except nothing is as it should be. Not anymore.
I check my watch—7:42. Eighteen minutes until call time, just enough to confirm the day’s schedule and check in with the second AD before everything gets going. I pull out my tablet and scroll through the list of tasks. First scene: 8:00. Main corridor. Tracking shot.
The routine settles me. I scroll through my tablet and note the lighting adjustments from yesterday, the revised blocking for the corridor scene, the catering order that still hasn’t been confirmed. Ordinary things. Manageable things.
