Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
willa
He leans in, and I realize with nauseating clarity what he’s about to do. He’s going to scent me. Going to put his scent on my neck where my pack’s scents are, where—
His nose brushes against my throat, and I freeze, every muscle locked in terror and revulsion. My Omega is screaming, thrashing, rejecting this Alpha with every fiber of my being.
When he pulls back, his face has gone from red to purple.
“You let him mark you. You let that—that—” He can smell them all, I realize. Can smell the layers of pack scent that Beau and Jake and Charlie left on my skin. “You’re covered in them.”
“Yes.” The word comes out stronger than I expected. “Yes, I am. Because they are my pack. Not you. Never you.”
His hand tightens on my face until I cry out in pain, his fingers digging into my jaw hard enough that I taste copper.
“You stupid little Omega.” His voice drops to something venomous, something that makes my skin crawl.
“You think you have a choice? You think those pretty Alphas are going to keep you safe?” His laugh is sharp and cruel.
“I will destroy them. Do you hear me? I will destroy McCrea, and Holt, and Dillon. I’ll make sure none of them ever ride again.
I’ll ruin their careers, their reputations, their everything—”
“No—” I try to twist away, but his grip is iron.
“Oh yes.” His eyes are wild now, unhinged.
“And when I’m done with them, when they’re broken and bankrupt and have nothing left, I’m going to take you.
Lock you away where no one can find you.
You’ll be available to me and my pack only.
No more parading around arenas. No more playing at being some kind of career Omega.
Just you, in my house, serving your purpose. ”
Bile rises in my throat. My Omega is screaming, thrashing against invisible bonds.
“You’re insane,” I whisper.
“I’m owed.” Spittle flies from his lips. “Your father promised. We had a deal. You were supposed to be mine. But first,” he continues, and my gut sinks with horrifying understanding, “I’m going to send a message.”
Before I can scream, before I can fight, Felton leans down and presses his thumb against my pulse point—right where my pack’s scent is strongest. He holds me there, pinned, and then drags his cheek along the side of my face in a mockery of scenting.
The wrongness of it hits me like a physical blow.
My Omega rejects him violently—every cell in my body screaming wrong, wrong, WRONG—but he keeps going, rubbing his sour, stale scent over my skin, contaminating the places my pack touched with reverence. Over my cheek. Along my jaw. Down my throat.
I want to retch. Want to claw my own skin off to get his scent away from me.
But worse than the physical revulsion is the heartbreaking sense of failure. Of loss. I was supposed to be good. I was supposed to stay covered in my pack’s scent, to carry their claim proudly. And now Felton is erasing it, marking over it, ruining it.
I failed them. I failed my pack.
Tears stream down my face as he finally pulls back, satisfaction gleaming in his bloodshot eyes.
“There,” he says, breathing hard. “Now everyone will know. Now McCrea will see that you’re not as claimed as he thinks. That you’re still available. Still up for grabs.”
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
The voice is low. Deadly. And so cold it could freeze fire.
Felton’s head snaps around, and suddenly Beau is there—in his riding gear, his face a mask of controlled fury that makes him look dangerous in a way I’ve never seen. Behind him, Jake appears, and the expression on his face promises violence.
“McCrea.” Felton doesn’t let go of me, but I can feel his grip falter slightly. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“The fuck it doesn’t.” Beau takes a step forward, and several people in the crowd gasp and pull back. “That’s my Omega you’re putting your hands on.”
“Your fake Omega, you mean.” But Felton’s voice wavers. “I know all about your little arrangement. She’s not really yours.”
“She’s ours.” Jake moves to Beau’s other side, and together they’re a wall of Alpha fury. “In every way that matters. Now let. Her. Go.”
Felton’s fingers dig in harder, a last desperate show of dominance. And I can’t keep in the gasp of pain. “She was mine first. By contract, by right—”
“I don’t give a fuck about your contract.” Beau’s voice drops even lower, into a bark laced with so much dominance that it makes me want to bear my neck, and the menace in it makes my Omega whimper.
He doesn’t stand down—his posture is still aggressive, still coiled tight with violence—but he does release me, shoving me away from him hard enough that I stumble.
I run.
Straight into the outstretched arms of Jake, who catches me against his chest like he was made to hold me. His scent wraps around me immediately—chocolate and warm spices trying to cover the wrongness Felton left behind—and I cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in a tilting world.
And then Charlie is there too, like Prince Charming riding in to slay the dragon. He stands next to Beau.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Jake murmurs against my hair. “I’ve got you.”
Over Jake’s shoulder, I see Beau take another step toward Felton, and the look on his face is beyond fury. It’s cold. Calculated. Deadly.
“If you ever touch her again—if you so much as look at her again—I will kill you. Do you understand me? I will end you.”
It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.
These men would kill for me.
The realization settles into my bones with a weight that’s both terrifying and comforting. I’ve never had anyone willing to stand between me and danger. Never had anyone look at my attacker with the kind of lethal intent that’s radiating off all three of them right now.
Felton’s hand points in my direction, looking straight at me, and the look he gives me is pure poison. “This isn’t over.”
“Yes,” Beau says through a growl. “It is.”
For a moment, I think Felton might actually throw a punch. His whole body is coiled tight, his scent sharp with aggression and humiliation. But he’s one Alpha against three, and even in his rage, he knows those aren’t odds he can win.
“You’ll regret this,” he spits, backing away. “All of you.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd, and suddenly my knees give out.
Jake catches me before I hit the ground, sweeping me up into his arms. “I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”
The pack circles around me immediately—a wall of protection, of safety, of home. Beau’s hand cups my face where Felton grabbed me, his touch infinitely gentle despite the fury still burning in his eyes.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice shakes. “Willa, baby, did he—”
“I’m okay.” But I’m trembling, my Omega in full distress now that the adrenaline is fading. “I’m okay, I just—”
“Shh.” Charlie presses close, adding his scent to the mix. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”
“She needs to get out of here,” Jake says to the others, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.
I try to protest, pushing weakly against his chest. “No— You have— You need to stay. Pictures and interviews—” My voice cracks. “I don’t want you in any more trouble than you already are. Because of me.”
“Willa—” Charlie starts.
“No, listen.” I force myself to look at them, even though my vision is blurred with tears I can’t stem. “You have obligations. Sponsors. Media. You can’t just— You can’t throw everything away because—”
“Because some asshole put his hands on our Omega?” Beau’s voice is deadly quiet. “Watch us.”
“Please.” The word breaks on a sob. “Please don’t make this worse. You need to be here for pictures and interviews. You can’t—” I look at Jake, pleading. “You can’t afford to cause a scene. Not now. Not when you’re this close.”
“We’re not leaving you alone again,” Jake says firmly, carrying me toward the back corridors where it’s quieter. “Not for a second.”
“Jake, you have— People are—” I try to protest, but my voice is weak.
“Fuck the people.” Beau keeps pace beside us, one hand on my leg, maintaining contact. “Fuck the cameras. Fuck anyone who has a problem with us protecting our Omega.”
Our Omega.
The words settle into my chest, warm and right.
“He said—” My voice cracks. “He said he had a contract. With my father. That I was his by—”
“No.” Charlie’s voice is steel. “You’re not property, Willa. You never were. Whatever bullshit arrangement your father made, it’s not legal, and it’s not binding. I can guarantee that.”
“And even if he found a court to honor it, you’re fucking ours,” Jake says, voice on fire, and it leaves my skin tingling.
“He sent the video,” I whisper. “To APbrA. He tried to get me fired.”
The growl that rumbles through all three of them is perfectly synchronized, and despite everything, it makes me feel safe.
“We’ll handle it,” Beau promises darkly. “We’ll handle all of it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, though I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for.
“Don’t.” Jake tilts my face up to his, and his brown eyes are fierce. “Don’t you dare apologize. This isn’t your fault.”
“We should have been there,” Charlie says, guilt heavy in his voice. “We should have—”
“You were doing your jobs,” I interrupt. “You couldn’t have known.”
“We should have known.” Beau’s hand is still on my face, thumb stroking over my cheekbone. “We should have scented how unstable he was. Should have anticipated—”
“Stop.” I reach up, covering his hand with mine. “All of you, that wasn’t your fault. It’s mine.”
“Willa—” Jake starts, but I shake my head.
“Look,” I take a breath, trying to center myself, “you all have media obligations. Press interviews, league responsibilities. You need to go do those things.”
“Fuck the press,” Beau growls.
“No,” I say firmly, looking at each of them.
“You just publicly claimed me in front of everyone. The least you can do is go out there and own it. Answer their questions. Do your jobs.” I try for a smile, even though my skin feels too tight.
“Besides, in a few hours we can all relax back at the hotel room.”
The way I say it—the slight emphasis on “relax”—makes all three of them go very still. The air in the storage room shifts, charged with sudden heat.
“Willa…” Charlie’s voice drops an octave.
“I’m just saying,” I continue, feeling my cheeks flush, “you should go handle your responsibilities now. So you don’t have to worry about them… later.”
Jake’s eyes darken with understanding.
“Later,” Beau repeats slowly, his gaze intense. “And then we’re all back at the hotel.”
“All of us,” I confirm, my heart racing. “No interruptions.”
They exchange looks—some silent pack communication passing between them—and I see the exact moment they all agree.
“Okay,” Jake says. “But you’re coming with us. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Actually,” I shift, suddenly feeling too warm, too confined, “I need a minute. The bathroom. I just need to… splash some water on my face. Clear my head.”
“We’ll wait,” Charlie offers.
“No.” It comes out sharper than I intended. I soften my tone. “Really, go do the press thing. I’ll meet you after. I just need a few minutes to myself, you know.”
Beau studies my face for a long moment, then leans down and kisses me. It’s not gentle—it’s deep and claiming and full of promise. When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“You hang here, we’ll draw the reporters away,” he says against my lips. “Don’t make me hunt you down, Willa.”
The comment sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with fear.
“I’ll be there,” I promise.
We make plans to meet by the staff entrance in one hour. And I can’t hide the nervous energy that fills me when they open the door to leave.
They file out reluctantly, Jake looking back twice, Charlie squeezing my hand one more time. As soon as the door closes behind them, I hear the roar of the crowd and cameras—they’re being swarmed by press immediately.
I lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath.