Chapter 12
TWELVE
Dex
Not physical threats, those I could handle easily. Digital threats. Reputational threats. The kind of danger that came through screens and could destroy everything my omega had built.
Matthew Malone was a particular kind of predator. The type who smiled while sharpening knives, who used "professional courtesy" as a weapon, who knew exactly where to strike to cause maximum damage.
And yesterday, he'd struck at Michelle.
I'd felt her panic through the bond, sharp and overwhelming, like drowning. I'd been outside doing a perimeter check when it hit, and I'd run inside to find her on the phone, face white, hands shaking.
Then she'd said those words, "I should have never let this happen."
And I'd felt Lucas's devastation, Ro's hurt, my own anger.
But underneath Michelle's panic, through the bond, I'd felt something else: determination. She was spiraling, yes, but she was also fighting. Calculating. Planning her next move even as fear tried to overwhelm her.
That was my omega. Terrified but brave.
Now it was the next day, and we had work to do.
The announcement stream was scheduled for this evening, almost eighteen hours after Matthew's call, giving us just enough time to prepare but not enough for Michelle to overthink herself into paralysis.
I'd been up since dawn running security protocols.
Within my social media monitoring I’d been tracking sentiment, identifying potential troll accounts, flagging coordinated harassment campaigns before they could start. I'd already identified three suspicious accounts that looked like Matthew Malone's people trying to seed negative narratives.
Banned preemptively. Problem solved.
For tech I’d triple-checked every camera angle, every audio input, every backup system. This stream couldn't fail. The stakes were too high.
Threat assessment was harder though. I’d mapped out worst-case scenarios and set contingency plans in place.
If the stream got raided by trolls? I had mod protocols ready.
If Michelle panicked mid-stream? We had transition points planned.
If Matthew tried to interfere? Well, I had plans for that too.
"You've been at that laptop for hours," Ro observed, appearing in the study doorway with coffee. "Take a break."
"I'm fine."
"You're in full security mode. Which means you're stressed." He set the coffee beside me. "Dex. We've got this. Michelle's got this. You don't have to protect her from everything."
"Yes, I do. That's what I do."
"You protect her from physical threats. This is a different kind of battle."
"All battles need security protocols." I accepted the coffee, taking a long drink. "Matthew Malone is smart. He'll try something today. I need to be ready."
"You've been ready since you woke up. Now you need to pace yourself." Ro settled into the chair across from me. "How's Michelle?"
I reached through the bond, checking. "Anxious. Determined. Currently drafting talking points for the fifth time. Lucas is with her, trying to get her to eat breakfast."
"And failing?"
"And failing. She's in full work mode. Food is an afterthought."
"We'll make her eat before the stream. Can't change the industry on an empty stomach." Ro studied me. "How are you? Really?"
I considered the question. How was I?
"Angry. At Matthew Malone for threatening our pack. At the industry for making Michelle feel like she has to choose between career and us. At myself for not—" I stopped.
"For not what?"
"For not seeing this coming. I should have anticipated that someone would weaponize the pack bond against her. Should have prepared her. Should have—"
"Dex." Ro's voice was firm. "You can't predict everything. And Michelle wouldn't have listened anyway. She needed to work through her own fears first before she could face external threats. You know that."
He was right. But it didn't make the protective instinct any quieter.
"I want to eliminate the threat," I admitted. "Matthew Malone, the ethics committee, anyone who makes her doubt herself. I want to remove every obstacle."
"You can't fight this battle for her. She has to fight it herself.
But you can stand beside her while she does.
" Ro smiled slightly. "Which is what you're already doing.
Security protocols, threat monitoring, making sure the tech doesn't fail?
That's how you protect her in this. By ensuring she has the tools she needs to succeed. "
"And if she fails anyway?"
"She won't. But if things don't go perfectly, we adapt. We handle it. Together." He stood. "Come on. Janet's making breakfast and Michelle needs to see her pack united and confident. We can't all be spiraling."
He was right. Michelle needed our strength right now, not our worry.
I closed my laptop and followed Ro to the kitchen.
Turned out Janet had made her entire breakfast catalog, pancakes, eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, coffee strong enough to strip paint. The kitchen smelled amazing and felt warm, but I could feel the tension underneath the domestic scene.
Michelle sat at the table with her laptop, not eating, typing furiously.
Lucas sat beside her, periodically pushing her plate closer with pointed looks that she ignored.
Ro took a seat next to them and began reviewing camera angles on his tablet.
And I was monitoring social media on my phone, tracking the conversation.
"You're all working," Janet announced, appearing with a spatula. "At my breakfast table. This is unacceptable."
"Mom, I need to finalize—" Michelle started.
"You need to eat. Laptops closed. Phones down. For twenty minutes, you're going to be a family having breakfast, not a pack preparing for battle."
"But—"
"MICHELLE TERESA RODRIGUEZ."
The full name. Even I knew that meant non-negotiable.
Michelle closed her laptop with a sigh. "Fine. Twenty minutes."
"Good girl." Janet set a fresh loaded plate in front of her and whisked away the cold one that Lucas had been nudging toward Michelle. "Eat. All of you, eat. You can't fight on empty stomachs."
Bill appeared with more pancakes. "Listen to your mother. She's very wise."
"She's very bossy," Michelle muttered, but she picked up her fork.
Through the bond, I felt her anxiety ease slightly. The forced normalcy helping more than she wanted to admit.
"So," Maya said, bouncing into the kitchen. "I've been monitoring social media. The Cozy Crew is ready to defend you. I've got a whole team of mods recruited from the regular viewers. We're prepared for troll invasions."
"Maya—" Michelle started.
"Don't 'Maya' me. This is important. You're my sister and you're about to change the industry. The least I can do is run digital defense." She grinned. "Plus, I've been training for this my whole life. My trolling skills are legendary."
"Your trolling skills are concerning," Michelle corrected, but she was almost smiling.
"Same thing."
Josh appeared next, tablet in hand. "I analyzed last night's stream metrics. Your streams, the ones where Michelle appeared, had forty percent higher engagement than baseline. The audience loves when she's protective of you, Lucas. They want more of that energy."
"Josh, you're fourteen," Michelle said.
"And I understand analytics better than most adults." He showed her his tablet. "Look. Every time Michelle enters the frame, viewer retention spikes. Chat engagement doubles. Donations increase. The audience isn't just tolerating her presence, they're actively seeking it."
"That's—" Michelle stopped, looking at the data. "That's actually really good analysis."
"I know. I'm very smart." He grinned. "You're going to be fine tonight, Michelle. The community's on your side. The data proves it."
Through the bond, I felt Michelle's anxiety shift. Not disappearing, but transforming into something more manageable. Her family's support, her brother's analytical reassurance, it was helping.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "All of you. For supporting this. For believing it can work."
"Of course it can work," Janet said firmly. "You're Michelle Rodriguez. You don't fail at things."
"Mom, that's not—"
"True? Mija, you built a company from nothing. You've succeeded at everything you've ever attempted because you're brilliant and determined and you don't back down." She squeezed Michelle's shoulder. "This is just another challenge. And you have your pack beside you this time. You're not alone."
Through the bond, I felt Michelle's emotion spike with gratitude, love, and lingering fear, but also hope.
"Eat," Janet commanded. "Then you can go back to preparing. But for right now, be present. Be with your family. Be with your pack."
So we ate.
And for twenty minutes, we were just a family having breakfast. No industry crisis. No ethics investigations. No threats from competitors.
Just pack and family, together.
It was exactly what Michelle needed.
By noon, we were in full preparation mode.
Michelle had drafted and redrafted talking points. Lucas had practiced his segments until they sounded natural instead of rehearsed. Ro had mapped out every camera angle and lighting cue. I'd established security protocols for every potential scenario.
"We need to notify my clients," Michelle announced, pulling up her email. "Before the stream. They deserve to hear it from me first."
"All of them?" Lucas asked.
"The major ones at minimum. They'll see it eventually, better to control the message." She started typing. "I'll send a group email to the smaller accounts, individual messages to the top five."
I watched her work. She was efficient and professional, her fingers flying across the keyboard. This was Michelle in her element. Strategy. Communication. Control.
"Sent," she said after fifteen minutes. "Now we wait for responses."
Her phone started buzzing almost immediately.
Client 1: "Thank you for the transparency. Let's talk tomorrow about next steps."
Client 2: "This is unexpected. I need time to think."
Client 3: "You've always been professional with me. I trust you to continue being so."