23. Deacon
CHAPTER 23
DEACON
“ T his won’t end the way you think, Ms. Matthews,” Senator Blaine calls after her, desperate for the last word to save face. Honestly, the shots were fired, and he didn't stand a chance.
The weight of Charlotte's hand radiates through me as we guide her away from that pompous bastard. Blaine's threat hangs in the air like a toxic cloud, and I can feel my pack brothers' tension match my own. My jaw aches from clenching it so hard, fighting back the instinct to turn around and snap the Senator's neck in front of his elite audience.
"I'm counting on it, Senator," Charlotte throws back, voice stronger, never faltering throughout the entire exchange. Pride warms my chest—our Omega has steel in her spine. Ours.
We move in synchronized formation toward the exit, years of military training making us function as a single organism. I catch Teagan's eye briefly, his expression mirroring my concern. The comm in my ear crackles to life just as we reach the door.
"Trigger, sir, we've got a swarm of paparazzi waiting out here. It's like they've been summoned," one of our men from outside says frantically.
Joker's curse cuts through the air. "That motherfucker. So that's his game." He turns to Charlotte, frustration evident in his scent, rain turning to storm.
"Charlotte—"
"It's not your fault," she interrupts, her voice hollow. "I should've figured this out as well. Me being here just adds to his narrative. Simple and fucking effective."
Her resigned words awaken something primitive inside my chest. The scent of incense thickens around us as my anger builds. I want to burn this place to the ground with everyone in it—everyone except the woman who's become the center of our world in such a short time.
Teagan steps forward, already on his phone calling for our car. "Say nothing. Give them nothing, Char."
Beaux's energy is barely contained as he speaks. "If the enemy wasn't at our backs, I would propose we find another out. But we won't let the asshole see you retreat." His fierce gaze meets Charlotte's. "Chin up, Harley, and let's get you the hell out of here."
Without a word, Teagan and I position ourselves at the front, creating a protective wall. Charlotte and Joker slide into the middle of our formation, with Beaux guarding the rear. I can feel Joker's anxiety spike, his rain-scent turning sharper like ozone before a thunderstorm.
"Keep it tight," Teagan commands as the doors swing open.
The assault is immediate—camera flashes like lightning strikes, voices overlapping in a chaotic barrage. I keep my focus ahead, shoulders squared, creating as much of a shield as possible around Charlotte.
"Charlotte, was your kidnapping a ruse?" someone shouts from my left.
Another voice pierces through: "Charlotte, where were you? How many Omegas were held captive with you?"
I keep my expression neutral, though inside I'm seething. These vultures have no idea what she's been through—what we've all endured to bring her back. Each question is another knife, and I can feel Charlotte's distress through her scent, the honey and cinnamon turning bitter.
"Charlotte, are you supporting Senator Blaine's initiatives? Is this why you're here? Do you believe now that you've been a victim yourself, that these new safeguards are just?"
Charlotte falters beside me, her step hitching almost imperceptibly. My heart races as I think she might answer, might give these jackals exactly what they want. But Joker—thank God for him—pulls her into the waiting limousine. Beaux follows quickly, and I slide in last, immediately slamming the door against the cacophony outside.
As the soundproofed interior envelops us in blessed silence, I watch Charlotte's shoulders slump. The honey and cinnamon of her scent is muted now, overshadowed by the acrid smell of distress. I catch Teagan's eye across from me, his jaw tight, fingers drumming against his thigh.
"Fuck," Beaux breathes out, breaking the silence. "They were waiting for us. That was a goddamn setup."
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and take a deep breath. The frankincense of my scent mixes with the others in the confined space—leather, whiskey, rain—creating the familiar mélange that normally brings me comfort. But not today. Not when our Omega reeks of fear and exhaustion.
"Blaine orchestrated this whole thing," I say, my voice low and controlled despite the rage simmering beneath. "He knew exactly what he was doing, parading you in there like some kind of trophy."
Charlotte raises her eyes to mine, and the depth of pain I see there makes me want to howl.
"He's setting the narrative. Making it look like I'm supporting him." She laughs, a broken sound that slices through me. "The great Charlotte Matthews, Omega Rights Activist, now backing Alpha supremacy after her 'ordeal'."
"We'll counter it," Joker says, already typing furiously on his tablet. "I can have a statement ready within the hour, get it to friendly outlets."
Teagan shakes his head. "No statements yet. We need to regroup, figure out exactly what game Blaine is playing."
I watch Charlotte as my brothers discuss strategy. There's something about the way she's holding herself—too still, too contained—that worries me more than her earlier distress. This is the calm before the storm, and I've seen enough battles to recognize when someone is preparing to fight.
When her eyes meet mine again, I see it—resolve hardening like steel being tempered in fire.
"I need to speak," she says quietly, cutting through the conversation. "Not today, but soon. They're trying to use me as a weapon against my own people." Her hands clench in her lap. "I won't let them."
I reach across the space between us, covering her fist with my palm. Her skin is cool under mine, and I wish I could transfer my warmth, my strength, directly into her being.
"And we'll be right beside you when you do," I promise, letting my scent envelop her in silent comfort. "Every step of the way."
For the first time since we rescued her, I see a genuine smile touch her lips. It's small, barely there, but it lights something in me that's been cold since the day I left my family and set out on my own so many years ago.
"Thank you, Moses," she whispers, turning her hand to grip mine.
As the car speeds away from the museum and its circling vultures, I hold on to that small victory and prepare for the war that's coming. Because make no mistake—this is war .
I stare at Charlotte's face, searching for any sign that she's trying to push her feelings down, to hide her distress behind a brave facade. But all I see is genuine determination. It's inspiring, the way she bears the weight of so much responsibility and still stands tall.
The limo glides through the city, leaving the chaos behind. Tension hangs thick in the air, everyone lost in their own thoughts about what just happened. I watch Charlotte's chest rise and fall with each breath, the rhythm steadying as she processes everything.
"Well," she suddenly breaks the silence, her voice lighter than I expected. "Since we're already out and about, surrounded by the paparazzi and causing a scandal. . ." Her lips twitch, a hint of mischief replacing the earlier despair in her eyes.
I raise an eyebrow, unsure where she's going with this.
"I'm thinking, what's a little more trouble?" She shrugs, her honey-cinnamon scent warming, the bitter notes receding. "I mean, I'm already flanked by four walking wet dreams. Seems a shame to waste a perfectly good night by going straight home to mope."
Beaux barks out a laugh, the sound filling the car. "Did you just call us wet dreams, Harley? Because I might need that in writing. "
"I need distraction," she continues, ignoring him but with a small smile playing on her lips. "And maybe some pizza. I think you can show me a good time before we face whatever tomorrow brings."
My chest tightens at her words. The need to give her whatever she wants—whether it's protection or pizza—claws at me. I've always been the serious one, the one who overthinks everything, but right now, all I want is to see her smile reach her eyes.
I glance at Teagan, who meets my gaze with a barely perceptible shrug, a silent "why not?" The tension in his shoulders has eased slightly. Joker's already set his tablet aside, his scent brightening with anticipation.
If it's a good time our Omega wants then we will give it to her.
"What kind of pizza are we talking about here?" I ask, letting a rare smile spread across my face. "Because if you say pineapple, I might have to reconsider this whole arrangement."
Charlotte laughs, bright and unguarded, the sound loosening something tight in all of us. "No pineapple, I promise. Though I'm partial to extra cheese and pepperoni—simple classics."
"A woman after my own heart," Beaux says, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "And here I thought we couldn't be more compatible."
"I know a place," Joker chimes in, already pulling out his phone. "Best pizza in the city, and they've got a private back room. No cameras, no questions."
Teagan nods, leaning forward to tap on the partition. Once the driver slides it open, he gives new directions, his voice carrying the easy authority that's always defined him. As the car changes course, I feel the atmosphere shift—still alert, still protective, but with an undercurrent of something lighter. Something we've all been missing.
"So, this good time," I say, my voice low as I lean closer to Charlotte. The frankincense of my scent mingles with hers, creating something warm and complex. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
Her eyes meet mine, and the spark I see there sends heat through my veins. "Well, Deacon," she says, using my call sign in a way that makes it sound like an endearment, "I was thinking good food, maybe some drinks, and then. . ." She glances around at all of us, her confidence growing visibly with each second. "And then we see where the night takes us."
Beaux whistles low. "I like the way you think, Harley. "
"We should be careful," Teagan cautions, though his scent betrays his interest. "The press?—"
"Fuck the press," Charlotte cuts in, her voice firm despite the playfulness in her eyes. "They're going to write whatever they want, regardless. Might as well give them something true to twist."
Her boldness catches me off guard. This isn't the frightened Omega we rescued. No, this is a fierce, brilliant woman who knows exactly what she wants. And right now, she wants us.
My smile widens as I eye my brothers, each of them radiating their own versions of the same hunger I feel. The rest of this night isn't about the press or Senator Blaine or the fight that's still to come. Tonight is about giving our Omega what she needs, what we all need.
"Pizza first," I say, reaching for her hand and squeezing gently. "Everything else after."
The way she squeezes back, her thumb tracing small circles on my skin, tells me everything I need to know about where this night is headed. For once, I'm not overthinking the future or dwelling on the past. I'm right here, in this moment, with her and my brothers.