Chapter 4
ANITA
Iunbutton my jeans with a sigh of relief and shimmy out of them, trading denim for soft cotton pajama pants and a hoodie with a fraying cuff I keep meaning to fix. Comfort over everything, especially when I’ve got a show to host soon and my brain is still reeling from arriving in Mistberry Cove.
The ferry. The Alphas. The landlord with glacier eyes and a mouth that could ruin a woman’s peace.
I yank my hair into a messy bun and move around the apartment, flicking on the little radio perched on the counter. The kitchen light buzzes quietly overhead as I open a cupboard for a mug and make myself a cup of chamomile tea.
But instead of mellow indie music or a sleepy small-town weather report, a voice slithers through the speakers and makes my stomach lurch.
Dr. Langston Reed’s voice, an asshole Alpha who hosts an opposing radio show called The True Bond Hour.
His talks are all smooth, heavy, impossible to scrub away the words once you hear them.
He preaches that Omegas are at their best when they submit.
That we’re biologically built to follow the pull of Alpha command.
That independence is dangerous, even selfish, when safety comes from belonging to an Alpha, or a pack, or anyone strong enough to claim us.
He calls it nature. I call it nonsense.
And sure, he probably believes every word and thinks he’s protecting people. But every time I hear his show come on, all I can think about is how many Omegas listen to him and start to doubt themselves.
Which is why I started my own radio show, The Heat Line.
If Dr. Reed wants to tell the world to obey, I’ll be here telling them to question everything. And this is why the asshole hates my show.
That smug, self-satisfied, punch-worthy tone that makes every muscle in my body tense.
“And don’t forget to pick up your copy of my new book, The Omega Rules: A Simple Guide to Natural Order, available now at all major retailers and online.
Every Alpha needs this essential handbook.
Simple rules, simple instructions to help teach her what an Alpha needs and deserves.
Because let’s face it, folks, structure benefits everyone.
Especially Omegas who’ve forgotten their place in the natural hierarchy.
We’re not talking about oppression here, but biology that has worked for centuries.
This book will help you reclaim that balance in your pack, your relationship, and your life.
Pick up your copy today and start restoring order where it belongs. ”
I stop moving. “What about what an Omega needs, you narcissistic asshole?” I say to the empty room, my voice rising. “What about respect? Autonomy? The basic fucking decency to be treated like a human being with thoughts and feelings and ambitions instead of a pet that needs training and rules?”
The commercial continues, Reed’s voice droning on about traditional pack dynamics, and rage burns hot and bright in my chest, threatening to consume everything else.
This is exactly why I’m undercover again.
Why I came to Mistberry Cove. Because assholes like Reed are still out there, spreading their garbage like it’s gospel, and thousands are eating it up.
Buying his books. Quoting him like he’s law.
Using his twisted words to justify pushing Omegas out of jobs, into boxes, and telling them they should be grateful for scraps of respect.
I wasn’t planning another mission. But then an email landed in my inbox. A listener from this very town, raw, heartbroken, convinced she was fired for being an Omega. She wasn’t the only one. Two others, same company. Same pattern.
And just like that, I knew I had to come.
Because someone has to stand up to men like Reed.
And I’m going to prove him damn wrong. One step at a time.
I lunge for the radio and jab the Off button, tired of listening to that crap. “Nope. Not tonight, Satan. Take your fragile Alpha ego and shove it,” I mutter, grabbing my tea and heading for the spare room.
No way am I letting that arrogant fossil’s voice linger in the air while I prep for my show. Bad vibes are not invited.
The second bedroom is already set up. First thing I did after arriving—well, right after Mr. Sexy Eyes and his stupidly pretty smirk left me flustered. I shoved a desk under the window, set up my equipment, and plugged in my gear to host tonight’s radio show.
It’s quiet in here, cozy even, lit by a salt lamp.
I don’t need to look in the mirror to know I probably have tea down the front of my hoodie, and my hair is doing that rebellious poof it gets when the weather is humid and I’ve been stressed. But who cares? No one sees me when I’m on air. Just my voice. Just the messages.
I sink into the chair and exhale, letting the calm settle in my bones, then set my tea down. This is where I’m supposed to be. No scripts. No fake smiles. Just me, the mic, and the truth.
The laptop is on, and I make sure I’m logged in to my VPN to conceal my location in case anyone is trying to work out where I am. The microphone is positioned. The mixer is ready. I just check it all and call Marcy.
She’s been running the station and board for me and two other indie broadcasters who work during the day for the past year.
She handles everything from screening calls to managing the live chat to making sure I don’t accidentally say something that’ll get us sued.
She’s a Beta with no patience for nonsense and unlimited patience for my brand of crazy, which is a very specific skill set.
I dial her number, and she picks up immediately.
“You’re ready, Anita?” Always business with her.
“Sure am, let’s do this.”
“Girl, the phones are ringing like crazy,” Marcy says. “People are asking where you are. Your listeners are getting antsy.”
I let out a laugh. “It’s only been a week since my last broadcast. Anyway, give me two minutes to get switched on with all the equipment. I have my phone here with the app ready to take your transferred calls.”
“Two minutes. I’m timing you.” She giggles and hangs up.
I move quickly. Checking connections. Testing audio levels. Making sure the encryption on my location is active.
My mind is racing with how quickly my listeners have invested in my latest undercover mission.
They want updates. My last two undercover stunts had listeners obsessing over every detail.
The voice drops, the coded updates, the slow-burn unraveling of corporate Alpha nonsense.
People ate it up like it was their favorite drama series.
This job might be a different town, different cover, but the formula?
Pretty much the same. Go in, expose the rot, get out.
Except now there’s a wild card.
Jasper freaking Lawson.
One of the Alphas at Wilde Charters. Also my landlord. Ice-blue eyes, cocky smile, and a scent that hit me like a brick wall.
Nope. Not thinking about that or him.
I take a deep breath, center myself, and flip the switch.
I’m live.
“Hey, my heat warriors and heartbreak survivors, this is Sunny, still standing and here to turn up the heat,” I purr into the mic, letting my voice drip with that slow, sultry confidence I save for this show.
I use my online name, concealing my real identity.
“You’re listening to The Heat Line, where we light fires under the conversations nobody else has the nerve to touch. ”
The chat feed lights up on my screen at the side. Questions flooding in.
“So, for those just joining us, here’s the situation. I told you last week that I was going undercover. That I was going to investigate a company that’s been rumored to quietly push out Omegas. Make them feel like they don’t fit, like they’re the problem.”
I take a sip of water to tease them.
“And I’m happy to report that I’ve arrived. I’m settled in. And as of today, I’m officially employed.”
The chat explodes, lighting up like fireworks across my screen.
“I know, I know. You want details. And don’t worry, I’ve got stories for days. But remember the rules. No names. No specific company details. We’re keeping this safe and legal because the last thing I need is a lawsuit knocking on my door and shutting us down.”
I lean back in my chair, smiling as the messages keep flying.
“Starting tomorrow, the deep dive begins. I’ll be sharing what I can, when I can, and as always, thank you for being ride-or-die with me. The passion, the emails, the support, it means everything. I see your DMs. I read every rant, every theory, every spicy guess. Keep ’em coming.”
I glance at my phone. The call screen is already lighting up.
“Oh, we’re live tonight, aren’t we?” I say, grinning. “Let’s open the lines. Any questions you’ve got for me or for Omegas out there trying to survive this weird little world, we’re doing it together. Let’s go.”
I click through.
“You’re live with Sunny.”
“Hi! Oh my God, I’m so nervous.” The voice is bright, younger, male. “Okay, so this isn’t about being fired or anything serious, but I just went on my first real date with an Omega female, and it was amazing. But now I don’t know if I’m supposed to text first or wait for her to text or—”
I grin, already in host mode. “Okay, first of all, breathe. Second, text her. Life’s too short to play games.”
“But what if she thinks I’m too eager?”
“Then she’s not your person. Next question.”
He laughs, caught off guard. “Really?”
“Really. If someone thinks you’re too much just for showing interest, they’re not the right match. Text her. Say you had a great time. Worst-case scenario, she ghosts you. Best case? She’s staring at her phone right now, hoping you’re brave enough to make the first move.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple. It’s terrifying. But it’s also the only way forward.” I smile. “You’ve got this.”
“Thank you so much.”
He hangs up, and Marcy messages me with a thumbs-up.
I click through to the next caller. “You’re live with Sunny.”
There’s a shaky exhale on the line. “Hi. Um. Okay. I’ve done something stupid.”
My brows lift. “We’re all ears. Spill it.”
“I’m in a pack. Three Alphas. It’s been good. Great, even. But last week, one of them told me they’ve been talking to another Omega. Just… talking, apparently. They think she’d be a good addition to the pack.”
“Ah,” I say softly. “The dreaded ‘we thought you’d like her’ conversation.”
“Exactly. And I’ve been crying since they told me. I mean, I know packs grow. I know it’s normal. But all I could think was, what if they’re replacing me? What if I’m not enough?”
I keep my voice warm. “And that led to the something stupid part?”
“Yeah,” she groans. “I blocked her number. On all of their devices. I knew the passcodes. They have no idea it was me, but now she’s not answering their calls, and they think she’s not interested. I feel awful. But I also feel… terrified. I don’t want to lose them.”
I give a low whistle. “Okay, drama llama, let’s unpack this. First of all—blocking her? A little shady. Slightly iconic. Definitely chaotic. But I get it. Fear makes us do irrational things.”
She lets out a guilty laugh. “It was so impulsive.”
“Impulse is part of being human. What matters now is what you do next. You have to talk to them. Not just about the blocking, though yes, that’ll come up, but about the fear. About how this landed like a punch to your heart instead of an invitation to expand your pack.”
“It’s so hard.”
“Yes. And they can’t choose you again unless you give them the chance, so they need to know if you’re uncomfortable with another addition to the pack. Hey, maybe they don’t want anyone else. Maybe they just didn’t know this would gut you.”
“You really think I can fix it?”
I smile. “You’ve got this. And if they don’t hear you, if they don’t care? Then maybe they’re not your forever pack after all. But let’s not go there unless we have to. The first step is talking and being honest.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Anytime.”
She hangs up, and I reach for my tea with a grin. “Okay, that one’s going to be trending by morning.”
Another call rolls in. I click through. “You’re live with Sunny.”
“Okay, so I need you to tell me if I’m officially unhinged, but I think I’m in love with two men.”
My interest piques immediately. “Go on.”
“I may have slept with two Alphas from rival packs. Who also happen to be cousins. And they just found out. At their grandmother’s birthday brunch.”
I blink. “All right. Let’s unpack that.”
The call board lights up again. More listeners. More stories. More drama.
I lean back in my chair, smiling to myself. These are the nights I live for. When people hand over their secrets like gifts and trust me to help carry the weight. When Omegas and Alphas and everyone in between stop pretending to be perfect and speak.
This isn’t just radio.
It’s a connection.
And I’m here for every glorious, messy second of it.