Chapter 9 Rose
Rose
My bush is clicking.
That sounds filthy, but I mean it literally—the bush right outside my front stoop is making a clicking sound.
I approach cautiously, broom in hand like some suburban gladiatrix. I give the top a tentative swipe—
—and scream louder than a toddler spotting Santa at the mall when a five-foot-five beta woman with brown hair pops up, enormous camera clutched in her hands.
She fires off a dozen rapid shots like I’m wildlife she’s been stalking for weeks.
It finally clicks—literally—that the noise I was hearing is coming from her camera.
Shit.
“Miss Rose Smith, aka Miss Rosalinda Morales—” the reporter begins, and my heart fucking stops. “Why is the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Detroit living here under an assumed name?”
My body turns to stone. Every limb heavy, every thought frozen. My mouth is dry as sand, my tongue too thick to fit.
I knew—absolutely knew—that I should have changed my name to something different than a shortened version of my real name but it was so vindicating at the time.
I’d always wanted to be called Rose but my mother saw it as too pedestrian and never let me use it.
Only Kai ever called me Rosie. I just couldn’t let it go when I finally broke free.
I wanted to use the name I’d always felt was truly mine.
When I say nothing, she keeps going, as if my silence is just another headline.
“Your parents have maintained that you’re exploring other interests privately.
Have you been here the whole time? Why were you seen exiting the hotel where the Sterling Pack is staying?
Are you involved with them? Do the Blackbear Pack know? ”
At the mention of the pack I was promised to, my heart slams against my ribs. Blood roars in my ears. The world narrows, blurry at the edges. I don’t even register the car doors slamming until someone steps in front of me—blocking the reporter and the flash of her camera.
Voices rise, sharp and heated. Then, suddenly, there’s nothing but soft brown eyes in front of me.
“Rosie?”
Kai crouches down so we’re eye level, and that’s when the panic hits like a wave. I start to shake. My breath catches, then spirals out of control—short, shallow, useless. Every inhale burns, every exhale stutters. Had I been holding my breath before I saw him? I can’t tell.
Kai’s mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him through the roaring in my ears.
He’s gently pushed aside, and then Logan fills my vision—tall, steady, commanding. His blue eyes lock on mine, and his voice cuts through the chaos.
“Breathe with me.” He barks.
The words strike straight through the panic, through the place inside me I’ve kept caged for years. My omega stirs weakly, trembling. His voice is low, rough, certain—something solid to hold on to.
Logan inhales. I try to copy him. He holds it, then exhales. I follow. Again and again until the air stops scraping in my throat. My fingers clutch his forearms too tightly, nails pressing crescents into his skin. His hands stay steady on my elbows, grounding me.
“Okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, my chest still hitching. A startled squeak escapes when Logan pulls me into a hug. It’s not a scent mark—those are for mates—but from a distance it probably looks like one. It’s part of the act.
But the low “Good girl” he murmurs against my ear? That’s not for show. It’s so soft I almost think I imagined it—until the heat flushes up my neck.
I tilt my head back, and his pale blue eyes meet mine. There’s something in them I can’t name—concern, anger, something else that makes my pulse skip.
“Let’s go inside,” Wyatt says, his drawl low and protective. He pulls his cowboy hat lower, shoulders squared, the silver-and-black flannel straining across his chest.
They usher me into the house, Logan’s hand steady at my back.
My home suddenly feels too small. Just a single living room, a narrow galley kitchen, a breakfast nook meant for four, one bathroom, one bedroom. Too tight, too quiet.
“What’s going on?” I mumble once they sit me at the table. My head still swims from the panic. Wyatt sits to my left, Kai to my right, with Logan across from me. Harlan towers behind him while Evander moves quietly in the kitchen, his usual energy gone.
“Despite our best efforts to stay private, the press seems to have found us,” Harlan says, voice clipped and even. His gaze pins me, unreadable. Then his nostrils flare slightly, eyes narrowing.
Please don’t let my scent be bleeding through this fast. The others don’t react, so maybe it’s just him.
“What did the reporter say to you?”
“She—she called me by my real name. Rosalinda Morales. And she asked if the Blackbear Pack knows I’m here.” My voice is thready and rough.
The name alone makes my chest constrict. I focus on keeping my breathing steady, in and out, slow. My eyes find Logan for help, but he’s staring down at the table, jaw tight.
So I turn to Harlan instead. He’s watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s already half solved.
“The timeline we came up with is blown to hell. You can’t stay here alone. Between the paparazzi, your family, and the Blackbear Pack, you need to be in sight of one of us at all times,” Harlan demands.
All times? My brain stutters.
I should protest, insist I can take care of myself—but isn’t this exactly why I agreed to the plan? For even the smallest chance of keeping the life I’ve built here?
“Okay,” I manage. “So what do we do?”
“You’ll need to move into the hotel with us.” Harlan says it with the authority of a man who’s never heard the word no.
“That’s not going to work,” Logan says, glancing up at him. I have the insane urge to demand he look at me instead, but I suppress it.
“Why?” Harlan asks, not breaking eye contact—with me.
“Because we only have the room for a few more days. I talked to Cole—some podcast hosts have it next for a pre-launch promo. We needed new accommodations even before this happened.”
Relief loosens my chest. I couldn’t imagine five alphas crammed into a hotel room with me.
Harlan’s gaze sweeps my tiny breakfast nook. “We’re moving in here, then.”
This must be what a stroke feels like, because I’m positive I heard him wrong.
“You can’t be serious,” Logan says, ice in his tone. “We cannot stay here.”
“Hey, it may not be the presidential suite, but it doesn’t have bugs or anything,” I shoot back, glaring. Defensive of my little house, and ignoring the fact that one opened bedroom door would unleash an avalanche of clothes.
“I’m sure that’s not what Logan meant, Rosie,” Kai says, glaring at him.
Logan rolls his eyes. “Of course not. But, come on, it’s not even possible to fit two people in this house, let alone six.”
“Sure it is.” Evander chirps, setting a steaming mug of my favorite tea in front of me. His luminous green eyes meet mine, and the bastard winks. Damn if that grin doesn’t do something to my insides.
“I’m sure we could get very cozy with Candy here,” he teases. Kai’s low growl only fuels the strange heat Evander stirs in me. Thank god for the drugs negating my scent.
“We can get a pack bed,” Wyatt adds helpfully.
I gape. Logan isn’t wrong. My house is tiny. There’s no way they can all fit, even short-term. And I am definitely not sleeping with a bunch of alphas I just met.
“You can’t sleep with me!” I practically screech. “I just met you!”
“You said you’d pretend to be our omega. Our scent-sensitive omega,” Harlan reminds me, his deep, dominant voice leaving no room for argument. I shift in my seat. He’s right. I did say that. And despite all my lies, I don’t break my word.
“I also said I wasn’t offering anything more than appearances,” I snap.
He nods once, all business. “If we want it to look like we’re settling in with our mate in Lakeside Point, we need to make adjustments. Like a pack bed.”
“But it’s one bedroom. Both a pack bed and my bed won’t fit in this house.” I point out.
He shrugs. “We can sleep on the pack bed, you can take the couch. Having two beds in the house would raise red flags anyways.”
And damn it, he’s right. It’d look completely normal for scent-sensitive mates to buy a pack bed. A random twin mattress for the mysterious roommate in a one bedroom house? Not so much.
I bite my lip. Harlan’s gaze flicks to my mouth before meeting my eyes again.
I look to Kai. Despite the time apart, I trust him.. Being a beta has always been my armor. Eventually, though, the omega will break through, and then everything will get complicated.
One thing at a time.
I glance at my very lumpy couch and sigh.
“Just until we find a more permanent place,” Kai assures me.
“What, you’re just going to rent a place up here?”
Evander laughs. “No. Daddy’s going to buy one.”
The nickname slides down my spine like warm syrup, pooling low and wrong in all the right ways. My eyes dart to Harlan. He’s already watching me, assessing, unreadable. Heat creeps up my neck.
“You can’t just buy a house,” I argue, but none of them flinch.
“Yes, we can,” Harlan rumbles.
I look around my little house. It's the first place I ever rented that was truly mine. I slept in my car for weeks, juggling marketing jobs on my phone until I could afford the deposit. It’s mine. And soon, it’ll be gone.
I take a steadying breath, fighting the sting in my eyes. “When are you going to move in?”
Harlan meets my gaze. “Right now.”