Chapter 18
ANITA
Ihate Reed so much more in person than I ever did through a radio broadcast.
Watching him stand there on the deck of the Mistrunner, pontificating about natural hierarchy and biological imperatives while holding a fishing rod like it’s some kind of masculine trophy, makes me want to grab that rod and beat him with it.
But what’s worse and tightens me is seeing Slater stand up for me.
For Ash, technically. But still.
The way he smoothly insulted Reed without the man even realizing it and how he made it clear that, on his boat, everyone gets treated with respect regardless of designation left me swooning.
My boss, the man whose voice has been my obsession, just defended Omega rights to a bigoted asshole without even knowing I’m an Omega.
Because it’s the right thing to do, not because he has something to gain. Just because he fundamentally believes that people deserve respect.
The guy’s heart is made of pure gold, and watching him be so specific about his work ethics, so careful about being fair to everyone on his team, is blowing me away. I never expected this level of integrity.
He isn’t a man who would fire an Omega unfairly.
The thought keeps circling through my mind even as I try to focus on taking photos of Reed’s stupid triumphant face as he reels in his fish.
That note I found in Mason’s office. Let go due to safety concerns. What does that even mean? Because standing here watching Slater operate, seeing how much he cares about his business and his people, I’m struggling to believe he would intentionally hurt one of his staff members.
Maybe there’s more to the story and I’ve been investigating the wrong people this entire time.
I’m taking a break from photographing, pretending to need a moment, when Jasper heads inside to grab drinks from the built-in fridge near the salon doors.
I follow him in, grateful for the escape.
The interior salon is gorgeous. All rich wood paneling and cream leather seating.
There’s a curved sofa along one wall, a small galley kitchen with marble countertops, and windows that let in plenty of natural light.
Everything is clean and well-maintained, clearly expensive but also comfortable. Lived-in.
Jasper pulls out several bottles of water, then glances at me and lowers his voice. “That guy out there? Real fucking piece of work.”
“Understatement of the century,” I mutter, dropping Ash’s forced masculine tone slightly since we’re alone.
“You know about him?” Jasper asks, leaning against the counter.
“I’ve listened to his show a few times.” The admission tastes bitter. “It’s vile. Every episode is just him telling Alphas they’re superior and Omegas need to be controlled. Makes my blood boil.”
Jasper’s expression darkens. “I don’t understand how anyone buys into that shit. Like, we’re supposed to protect Omegas, not dominate them. There’s a difference.”
“Try telling that to his thousands of followers.”
“Fuck his followers.” Jasper uncaps one of the water bottles and takes a long drink. “Anyone who thinks being an Alpha means being an asshole doesn’t deserve the designation.”
I’m about to respond when he moves past me toward the door, then pauses. He leans in slightly, sniffing, and my entire body goes rigid.
“Fuck, man,” he says, brow furrowing. “Did you bathe in your sister’s clothes or something? You smell just like her.”
My stomach drops.
Of course he smells her on me. Panic flashes hot and fast under my skin, my pulse spiking so hard it makes my fingers tremble. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I force myself to stay exactly where I am.
“Laundry,” I say quickly, forcing a laugh that sounds almost believable. “We share a washing machine. Same detergent.” God, that sounds lame even to me.
He studies me for a second longer. Then he shrugs. “Makes sense, I guess. Just threw me off.”
He heads back outside, leaving me alone with the echo of my own heartbeat.
That was too close. I grasp the water bottle tighter, staring at nothing, forcing myself to breathe slower.
I stand in this beautiful boat, watching through the windows as Slater and Jasper interact with their clients with such professionalism despite clearly hating everything the men stand for, and something clicks into place.
I might be investigating the wrong people.
The Wilde Charters pack, these four men who’ve shown me nothing but respect and desire and genuine care, they aren’t the bad guys, are they?
Instead, my time should be focused on the real douchebag.
Reed.
I stare at him through the window as he’s laughing like a fucking hyena, running his mouth, probably saying something else derogatory about Omegas while Rex nods along like the sycophant he is.
And suddenly, everything crystallizes.
I need to change my game plan and work on taking down Reed.
He’s in town. I’m undercover. I have access. Why the hell not?
The more I think about it, the more it feels right. A buzz runs through me at finding a way to tackle Reed beyond just offering an alternative on my radio show. This could be my chance to really expose him.
Because that’s what he is—a fraud. A con man selling Alpha superiority to insecure men who need someone to tell them they’re special. A manipulator who profits from keeping Omegas oppressed and afraid.
I need to get closer to him. Learn more about his operation. Find out what he’s hiding, because men like him always have secrets. Always have skeletons they’re desperate to keep buried.
This is my chance to get inside intel, to tear him down from the inside out.
My investigative instincts, dormant since I started getting distracted by four gorgeous Alphas, roar back to life.
This is what I came here to do. Expose harm. Protect Omegas. Make a difference.
I just had the wrong target.
I take another drink of water, square my shoulders, and head back outside with the camera open on my phone. Slater and Jasper are off to the side, having a quiet conversation about something work-related.
I approach Reed with my best professional smile.
“You’re doing amazing,” I say, lifting my phone. “Let me get some photos of you in action. Really show off that Alpha prowess.” I want to gag saying the words, but Reed eats it up.
“Excellent idea,” he says, puffing up slightly, chest expanding like he’s already imagining the admiration. “Rex, hold my rod. Let me pose properly.”
He passes the fishing rod off and squares himself toward me, adjusting his stance, chin lifting a fraction higher. The ocean stretches behind him in endless gray blue, wind tugging at his jacket, but all his focus is on the image of himself that he thinks I’m capturing.
I lift the phone and snap several photos, angling for variety while he shifts subtly between each shot, shoulders back, stomach tight, playing the part of something impressive.
“You know,” I say lightly, keeping my tone curious instead of confrontational, “I’d love to know more about being an Alpha. I may be a Beta, but who says I can’t learn to be better? Stronger?”
The words scrape on the way out, sour and wrong, but Reed doesn’t notice. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care.
His face lights up with unmistakable satisfaction.
“Now that’s the attitude I like to see,” he says, stepping closer, lowering his voice like he’s letting me in on something exclusive.
“Too many Betas just settle. They accept whatever space they’re given without ever questioning whether they deserve more. But ambition is rare.”
I nod thoughtfully, snapping another photo. “And Omegas?”
He sighs, almost sympathetically. “Omegas thrive when they feel settled. When someone gives them stability and direction.” He watches the line in the water, calm and certain.
“Most of them don’t actually want independence.
They just think they do. It’s noise. Confusion.
Give them a strong Alpha who knows what he’s doing, and they quiet right down. ”
I swallow, forcing my expression to stay neutral. I lift the phone, focusing on the reel, the hook, anything but Reed’s face. “I guess structure helps. Keeps things… clear.”
Reed smiles, pleased. “Exactly. You understand. Most Betas don’t.”
I nod like I’m absorbing wisdom instead of swallowing acid.
“Clarity saves everyone time,” I add, forcing neutrality into my voice. “No confusion. No mess.”
“That’s the difference between leadership and chaos,” Reed says.
“Funny,” Slater’s voice cuts in calmly from behind us. “I’ve met plenty of Alphas who call their control leadership when it’s really just insecurity.”
I turn.
He’s standing near the helm, arms folded loosely across his chest, expression unreadable. He isn’t looking at Reed. He’s looking at me.
Reed lets out a short laugh. “Control isn’t insecurity. It’s responsibility.”
Slater shrugs slightly. “Depends on whether the person you’re controlling actually asked for it.”
Silence stretches.
Reed’s mouth tightens. “Some people don’t know what’s good for them.”
Slater’s gaze flicks briefly to him, then back to the water. “That’s usually what people say when they’re afraid of being told no.”
Reed doesn’t respond, just turns back to his line, jaw tight.
And I’m left standing there, phone in hand, heart beating too fast.
Because Slater isn’t angry.
He isn’t raising his voice.
But he heard enough.
Jasper appears from wherever he was, clearly sensing the tension, his expression wary.
Slater’s eyes are locked on me, and I’ve never seen him look this angry. Not even this morning when I was late.
“You know what?” Slater says, his voice deadly calm. “Why don’t you take a break, Ash? Go focus on photos elsewhere on the boat. I’m sure you can find something worth capturing.”
“Actually,” Reed says, stepping forward with that condescending smile. “I think the boy should speak his mind. Freedom of expression and all that. If he wants to explore these ideas, who are you to stop him?”
“I’m his boss,” Slater snaps. “And on my boat, we don’t entertain toxic bullshit.”