Chapter Thirty-Seven

Thorn

Fucker was good. Fast, too.

But not fast enough .

I chase what's left of that stale non-aura through the market aisles. Most of the regular shoppers don't pay me a second thought. I'm a smudge in their peripheral vision. A shadow from which they know to steer clear.

The aura disappears through the back. All those hours surveying the local town—its shops, its vendors, its entrances and exits—has finally paid off.

They can't hide from me.

The door hasn't even met its hinges behind them when I burst through. Scanning.

There.

Female. Mid- to late-thirties. Mousy brown hair. Small stature—even for a beta.

There's no other explanation. Even with suppressants, an alpha would leave some sort of mark. A beta, however, would take longer to register.

She risks a glance over her shoulder. Big mistake. I'm on her in an instant, grabbing the back of her hoodie and slamming her face-first into the brick wall.

"What the fuck are you—" she snarls.

I slam her again, harder. She coughs, giving me a chance to register the black bag slung over her shoulder.

A … camera bag ?

"Who sent you," I ask quietly. At her wheezing silence, I growl. " Who ?"

"Jesus Christ, man." Fear. At last . Something potent enough to break all the way through her suppressants. "No-one sent me."

"Guess that makes you a pervert, then. Trekking all the way out to regional packlands, snapping photos of pregnant omegas without their consent."

"I'm not a per —alright, fine. Fine! Let me go and I'll talk."

I smirk, leaning in closer. "Sounds like you can talk just fine right here."

I sense the shift in her pheromones, fizzling beneath the surface, like a carbonated soda about to explode from its can.

"I'm with the press, alright?" she says at last. "Like I said, no-one sent me—I'm just trying to get a good shot to sell off to the highest bidder."

"A shot of who? Pack Maddox, or just our omega?" At her pointed non-answer, I snarl. "What the hell does the press want with Eve? The tribunal's old news."

"N–no-one's seen her since then. And those shots were basically unusable—you guys made damn sure of that." She groans. "They tried to warn me. Said Maddox was untouchable. I'm starting to get why."

" They ."

"You think I'm the only photographer out there chasing a money shot? Everyone wants a look at the precious Carson omega."

Darkly, I ask, "Including Carson's alphas?"

"What? I don't know."

"You said ‘press', but you also said ‘highest bidder'. Where are you sourcing your jobs?" None of the forums I travel through have shown anything about Pack Carson, or Maddox.

"I'm freelance, you asshole. Don't have a boss."

"But obviously you hear things ." I push her down harder. "So tell me. What. You've. Heard." She's too good to be just paparazzi, but not good enough to be a contractor. Somewhere between those two things is a grey area which, clearly, I haven't been able to tap into.

The beta hesitates. I'm debating smashing her head into the wall hard enough to rattle the words free, when she finally answers, "I heard Maddox Den is pretty much impenetrable. Better guys than me have already tried." She sneers into the brick. "You've got that place well and truly locked down, huh?"

No fucking wonder I've been on edge , my inner alpha growls. Maybe that unmarked van from—fuck— months ago was just the start of it.

"They couldn't get past your security. So, failing that, they tried to get past you."

I bristle, realizing. "By keeping me busy."

She nods, or tries to.

I was right , my alpha practically deafens me. Someone, somehow, has been trying to keep me distracted. They figured out who I am, or, rather, the kind of work I do. Trying to find a way to Eve. But that still begs the question—

"Why?" I demand. "Why go to all this trouble for one shot of one omega?"

"Are you kidding? The elite Pack Carson goes to war with the outcast Pack Maddox—of Maddox Tech—and lose ? People have all kinds of conspiracies. Wondering if the omega's pregnancy was all a ruse, or if Desmond is somehow involved—"

"Desmond?" It's not often I hear that name anymore. Baxter's family pack are all either in the ground or behind bars, where they belong. How bored, and desperate, can people be to dredge that shit back up?

"Normally, pricks like you start a whole media circus after a high-profile case like that. Talk shows. Book deals. But no-one's heard a peep since the tribunal. Your pack head hasn't even commented."

Good, I almost snap. I'd never be able to respect him again if he did. He— we —owe nothing to these vultures. Not a single word.

"The people want to know," she huffs. "And if you lot won't talk …"

My lip curls. "Then you lot take. Right?"

"That's the job. Figured you of all people would understand that."

So they do know. Christ, I know I had a reputation back when I was still an amateur, but I was sure I'd wiped those records clean. The only business I take these days is business I can do from the shadows. If the press of all people have shone a light on those shadows, how close are they to figuring out what I used to do back then?

It's just like she said. People have been digging, and digging, trying to get the hottest scoop. They're not going to stop until they're satiated, one way or another.

I have to think fast. Think of the safest course of action for my pack. For my omega.

"What happens if you get your damn shot?" I ask. "Do your colleagues give up?"

"Depends," she grunts, "on the shot."

"What kind of shot would make the rest of these assholes leave us the fuck alone?"

There's a beat of silence before I catch the corner of her lip curling, lifting into a bloodied grin.

"Now we're talking."

***

There aren't as many images on the beta's camera as I expect. A couple of the SUV, but with its semi-tinted windows, there's not much to see. A couple of Eve's and Red's backs as we enter the store. Some obstructed side profiles as we venture between aisles.

I glance up at her. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

"Not all of us are high-end contractors," she spits back, still massaging her jaw. It's a little scratched up from the bricks, but she'll live.

I look back down at the camera. Rage fires through my blood.

How the fuck did she catch this ?

Eve's face in my hand. Her eyes are glossy, her pink lips ever-so-slightly parted. It's impossible to tell if I'm about to kiss her or leave her hanging, but either way, she's glued to me, and I to her. A sensual, quiet, private moment between mates.

Unbearably intimate.

"That'll do it," she announces, peering over the screen. "Public place, Maddox's scary second-in-command, pup bump in frame …"

She's right. Eve's stomach is also visible, poking out against her tank top. She looks so radiant, I almost can't bear to return the camera. At least, not until I've smashed it into a dozen pieces.

No-one else gets to see this. No-one but me.

But then the beta presses, "It clearly candid, so no-one will think it's faked. Shows off your chemistry. Indicates your pup's alive and well." She shrugs. "You let me sell that , and we're both golden."

No more conspiracies. No more distractions. No more paparazzi. Just one photo of me and my omega for the whole world to see.

Speaking of—where is my omega? In the SUV with Red, like I ordered? If he has any sense, he'll have alerted Baxter by now. Maybe even driven Eve back to the den. Whatever the situation, I can't keep wasting time trying to come to a decision that isn't mine to make.

I grip the camera tighter, and glare up at the beta.

"You're coming with me."