Chapter 5 Rickon
Chapter five
Rickon
What am I supposed to do? No one wrote a handbook for when your pack alpha gets arrested, your omega turns into a ghost, and your brand-new bond feels like it’s going nuclear.
While the news blows up with reports of an alleged attack on an emerging actress, the person in question sits on the couch and stares at the wall, hugging anything Zack ever touched.
So forlorn, like her entire world fell apart.
I’m scared enough to want to call the Omega Center, but I know how much Red hates that place.
My phone vibrates, and I slide out from beside Red to answer it, instinctively turning away to shield her from the noise. Director Yun speaks before I can greet him. “Rickon, what the heck’s going on? How’s Red?”
A heavy sigh escapes me. “Hi, Mr Yun. Not a lot I can tell you, unfortunately. We don’t know exactly what happened.” I glance over my shoulder at the inert omega. “Red has a few scratches, but other than that, she’s . . . in shock.”
“Shit. I bet.” He pauses, and I know what he wants before he forces the words out. “I hate to even ask, but we don’t have many scenes we can shoot without her, and I was planning to do those during her heat next week. Tomorrow we have the big race scene with all the extras booked.”
Bloody hell, her heat. I press my fingertips to my burning forehead. All my hopes for Red overcoming her nesting trauma, cradled in Zack’s and my arms, goes up in smoke. She will battle not only her own pheromone chokehold, but Zack’s barely suppressed fury as well.
“Rickon?” the worried director coaxes.
“Yeah, um.” I turn to look at my broken omega, clenching my free hand.
Red swivels her head until her dead eyes meet my gaze. “I’ll be in tomorrow,” she whispers.
My heart jolts, equal parts pain and shock. “Red, you need to take some time—”
She shakes her head with no real energy. “Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow, as usual.”
This isn’t her. Some other version of Red has my omega in a chokehold, stealing away her vitality. I open my mouth to argue, but it hits me that this might be the only way Red can survive separation from her wild alpha. Acting has been her lifeline through every tragedy to date.
I clear my throat, fighting tears. “We’ll be in tomorrow,” I repeat. As soon as I’ve said it, the omega turns her back, tucking stiffly into the corner of the couch and pressing her face into a cushion.
Our boss rumbles a few words, somewhere between apology and gratitude, and then hangs up.
Cold tears streak my cheeks as I return to Red, pulling her into my chest and purring.
Her rigid body thaws enough for her head to fall onto my shoulder.
Despite the lack of emotion on her face, the bond says she’s screaming and sobbing inside.
So I uphold our deal and cry for her, my tears falling into her glossy hair.
If only I could take away her pain.
I don’t berate myself, wondering how I could’ve stopped Zack from flipping out. It was always a possibility from the moment Red refused to put him in a cage, and we can’t turn back time. All I can do is try to hold the shattered pieces together.
We sit, leaning into each other for a long time, two halves of a broken oyster missing our pearl. Feels like a lifetime ago when it was just me and Red against the world. Zack’s presence spread into every corner of our lives.
I wipe my nose on my sleeve and drag the blanket from the end of the couch to wrap around Red. The fabric carries Zack’s pungent scent, and she holds it under her nose while I tuck the edges around her lap. He used to lie here, watching kids’ cartoons.
A soft whimper escapes Red, and she clenches over her midsection. “It’s all my fault.”
Her pain hurts more than anything I’ve experienced before. “It’s not your fault, Red,” I say sternly, tightening my hold across her shoulders. “We don’t know exactly what happened, but this was an attack. You have scratches on your legs to prove that.”
She sucks in a shuddering breath, and then reaches for her phone. “It is my fault because I forgot that asshole would never let me live free.”
“That’s definitely not your fault—” My words sputter out as I spot the message in her inbox.
Did you think that was the end, Lev? If I go down, I’m taking you all with me.
My breath catches, and I cough to clear my throat. What the actual fuck? “Who is this from?” I demand, tone sharper than intended.
She scoffs under her breath, and when she speaks, her voice twists with hatred. “Only one person calls me ‘Lev.”
Shock tingles through me. “Him? Ray sent this?”
Red nods mutely.
How the bloody hell did he even get her number? “Fuck. Callisto has to know about this. So do the police.”
She gestures limply at the phone in silent permission.
I screenshot the text and create a group chat with Callisto, Josef, and Pierce. Guys, it wasn’t random. Ray’s behind this whole attack. Red says he’s the only one who calls her by that name, and he’s the one who went down in the court case.
A moment later, Josef shoots back a reply. Thanks for sending this through. We’ve started an official OCB investigation, but so far no one’s heard of a scent attack that wasn’t in person.
Callisto’s profile jumps down to ‘read’ and my heart beats faster. I want to be present when you interrogate Ray, he sends.
A weight drops off my shoulders. Callisto’s on the job, reliable as always with legalities, which means I only need to focus on my omega. But after weeks of sharing that role with Zack, the house feels unbearably empty.
Where are you, Calli? I type, dreading the answer.
Laversham State Alpha Center. Just saw Zack get taken inside.
I can’t contain the startled cry that slips through my teeth. Zack’s in prison already?
His next message confirms it. Fuckers were waiting with a bail denial and shipped him straight out. But I’ll do everything to get him free, Ricky.
Red turns, her eyes asking what her mouth can’t.
I wish I could sugarcoat it for her, but I gotta be honest with my omega. “The cops denied Zack’s bail, and he’s in prison already. Callisto says he’s at Alpha Lodgings now, trying to see him.”
My omega shudders, her shadowed lids closing as she processes the dreadful news.
I lean my head on hers. “I’m sorry, Red. So sorry. We both know how hard you’ve worked to keep him out of a cell. But this isn’t your fault, Biscuit. Trust me on that.”
Her breath catches, the hitch echoing like a bruise in my own air passage.
I thought the court case would solve everything, could free Red from her past. Instead, it plunged us into a darker hell.
And as icing on this devil’s cake, Red’s heat will be here within days.
The rooftop nest isn’t finished yet, but we could put up some plastic sheeting and ask the builders not to come for three days.
“Biscuit, about your heat,” I begin.
Red gets up, wooden as a puppet, and I know I’ve touched a sore spot.
My hands quiver as I haul myself off the couch to follow her to the kitchen.
Guess I’m a coward, because even though this is an urgent discussion, I can’t make my tongue form the words again.
She’s been through too much this week. I’ll try again tomorrow.
Instead, I wrap my arms around her waist as she pours herself a cup of water. “Are you really going to work in the morning?”
She shrugs, a cold, dismissive motion. “What else am I supposed to do?”
I rest my head on her shoulder, wishing I could suck all her pain into myself through the contact. “Want me to call your therapist? She might do a house visit.”
Red glances at her sunflower art on the fridge door but quickly looks away. “No, I don’t want to see her ’cause the useless quack was wrong.”
When I sputter out a denial, Red pulls out of my hug and walks toward the stairs. “I need to go over my lines for the upcoming scenes.”
I slump against the kitchen bench, the marble top chilly under my hands.
The air in the room suddenly feels too thick to breathe, and I choke.
It’s times like these when the old demons of insecurity rise.
Red’s burdened by a sense of failure, but taking responsibility for a feral human is tough even for a human with a normal past. I’m the one who failed, and my deficiencies once again made people leave me.
With a groan, I slump down to rest my head on my crossed arms. What I’m thinking sounds like something Hudson would’ve said. If you just tried a bit harder, babe, then people would want to be around you.
I peer over my arms. Ozzie picks seed out of his food dish in the cage at the far end of the room, flinging unwanted pieces onto the floor with great relish. “Hey, Ozzie. What’s your favorite word?”
The bird bobs his head and climbs the bars. “Hello. Fuck off.”
I snort. “Exactly.” Fuck off to gaslighting myself.
Although it cuts me to the soul, I gotta have faith my pack will be together again.
Crossing the room, I get the bird out, and he crab-walks up my arm.
His hard little beak peppers along my ear and the back of my neck, as if in disapproval for my lack of hair to hide in.
I lean on the windows overlooking the city and breathe deep.
Even when the sky seems to cave, a few breathing techniques can help hold me together. I have to be the strong one now.