Chapter 34 #2
And my breath catches sharply in my throat.
50,000 people watching.
Fifty thousand. Live. Right now. In real time.
That's absolutely insane. That's more people than live in all of Oakridge.
That's more people than I've met in my entire life combined. That's more people than I ever imagined would care about watching me do anything.
Fifty thousand actual human beings watched us build a gingerbread house and apparently cared enough to stay the entire time and witness us win.
How did this happen?
How did I go from being nobody—from being Kael's worthless Omega who couldn't do anything right—to having fifty thousand people watching me live? It doesn't feel real. None of this feels real.
"Wait, before I go—" I say to the camera, my mind racing through memories. "Is there anything major I've missed sharing in the last four weeks? Let me give you a quick recap because so much has happened!"
I take a deep breath, trying to organize the whirlwind of experiences into coherent thoughts.
“So much has happened since we returned from Millbrook.
We've been on so many amazing dates around Oakridge!
Indoor activities like baking—obviously—" I gesture enthusiastically to our winning gingerbread house.
"And pottery classes where I made the most lopsided mug you've ever seen in your life, but I love it anyway because it's mine and Grayson uses it every morning for his coffee.
And we took a couples cooking class where we learned to make fresh pasta from scratch! "
I'm getting more animated now, remembering each experience.
"And we've done tons of outdoor winter activities!
Skiing at Pine Ridge Resort—where I fell approximately forty-seven times but finally made it down a bunny slope without crying!
Snow tubing at Frostbite Hill where we went so fast I thought I was going to die!
Snowshoeing through the nature preserve where we saw deer and foxes!
Ice skating on Mirror Lake where Nash had to hold me up the entire time because I have zero balance on ice! "
Every date has been perfect in its own way. Every moment has felt like something from a dream. Like I'm living someone else's life. Someone who deserves good things. Someone who's allowed to be happy without waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"It's also made me so much closer with the guys," I continue, my voice softening with genuine affection.
"Nash actually put his entire motorcycle business on pause for the holidays early—like weeks before he usually closes—so he could spend more quality time with the pack.
And Theo wasn't deployed this holiday season for the first time in years, so we actually get to spend Christmas together, which is amazing and means everything to me! "
I glance at Grayson, who's standing just off-camera looking proud and slightly embarrassed about the attention.
"And Grayson has been focused on finalizing his first romance novel! He put Knotty Christmas Wish up for pre-order shortly after the blizzard in Millbrook, and it already has almost 1,000 pre-orders! Can you even believe that?! A thousand people want to read his book!"
I lower my voice conspiratorially, leaning closer to the camera.
"He also secretly put The Omega's Nest Cafe up for pre-order scheduled for May of next year, thinking nobody would find it until he officially announced it.
But somehow his readers found it anyway through the retailer algorithms and are going absolutely wild.
Pre-orders are climbing every single day.
It's this cozy, sweet omegaverse story about found family and cherry blossoms and healing from trauma, and I'm completely obsessed with it. I've read the draft like three times. But shh, you didn’t hear it from me,” I say with a wink.
I'm in complete disbelief that his career is going to explode like this. Two major publishing houses have already reached out with serious offers—real traditional publishing deals with advances and everything.
But Grayson wants to see how the self-published launch performs first before making any big decisions about his future. If the ranking is good enough and the sales are strong, he might become a traditionally published author with a major house.
My pack mate. My Alpha. Published and successful. I'm so proud of him I could cry.
"And my social media has completely blown up in ways I never imagined!" I add, trying to keep my voice steady despite the overwhelming gratitude threatening to choke me. "I've gotten multiple brand deal offers…like serious companies wanting to work with me! And I’m so pumped to share it all with you. You’re going to be getting some personal recommendations as well as those where I’ll try the brand and you guys can see the results on live!”
My voice gets more excited and breathless.
"And because of that success and the following I've built, we've been invited to the Jingle Bell Jubilee tomorrow night and the Oakridge New Year's Eve Ball Drop at the end of the month! These are like the biggest, most exclusive events in town!"
I'm so proud of what I've been able to accomplish in just the last few weeks. It feels like my entire life changed overnight. Like I went to sleep as one person—scared and alone and worthless—and woke up as someone completely different.
Someone successful, wanted who has value beyond just being useful.
I start scanning the comments that are flooding in rapidly, hundreds per second scrolling so fast I can barely read them. Many are positive—heart emojis, congratulations, excitement about the win, requests for the gingerbread recipe, people saying I inspire them.
But there are negative ones too.
More than usual. Way more than there used to be.
And they're getting meaner, more personal, harder to dismiss.
The negativity has definitely gone up significantly lately.
I've noticed it building steadily over the past two weeks.
Started small with a few questionable comments here and there, but has gotten progressively louder, more insistent, more coordinated, harder to ignore.
Theo, Nash, and Grayson have been doing everything they can to moderate and address it—blocking the worst offenders, reporting harassment to the platforms, hiding offensive comments—but on live streams, it's nearly impossible to control what people say in real-time.
The comments just keep coming.
I keep smiling at the camera, determined not to let anyone see how the comments affect me. Don't want to show weakness or disappoint my loyal followers who have been so incredibly supportive and kind.
But then the comments start swarming with arguments.
People defending me passionately. People attacking me viciously.
The chat becomes a battlefield of conflicting opinions and escalating hostility.
"She only got popular because of pretty privilege, not talent"
"She's obviously using her Alphas for fame and money"
"Bet she's not even really with them, probably all staged for content"
"Gold digger energy, she trapped them with an Omega contract"
"How convenient she suddenly has brand deals after getting with rich Alphas"
"Fake personality, she's just playing a character"
It shouldn't hurt.
I know logically that internet comments from strangers don't actually matter.
That haters are inevitable when you have any level of success.
That I should just ignore it and focus on the positive.
But it does hurt. It hurts so much. Because part of me—that damaged part that Kael and his pack broke—still believes them.
Still thinks maybe I don't actually deserve this.
Maybe they're right and I'm just a fraud who got lucky.
I am just playing a character…none of this is real, or am I fooling myself into thinking I deserve happiness?
"I have to go!" I say brightly, keeping my smile firmly in place. "Duty calls in the heart of Oakridge, and I need to find the next adventure for you guys to embark on! Only five days until Christmas now! So exciting!"
I end the live stream quickly before my fake smile can crack.
My face falls immediately. The smile drops. My shoulders slump.
"Hey." Grayson's voice is soft, concerned. "You okay?"
I nod automatically, not trusting my voice yet.
Nash studies my face carefully, his blue eyes seeing right through my attempt at composure.
"Let's get to the car. We can talk there. More private."
I follow them through the thinning crowd, accepting congratulations from other contestants with automatic smiles and thank-yous that feel hollow. The cold air bites at my exposed skin. The walk to Nash's truck feels longer than it should.
Once we're all inside the truck's cab—me sitting between Theo and Grayson in the back seat while Nash takes the driver's seat—the warmth from the heater starts defrosting my frozen fingers and toes.
But it doesn't touch the cold feeling settling in my chest like ice.
The truck smells like them.Like safety. Motor oil and leather from Nash. Gunpowder and pine from Theo. Maple and honey from Grayson. And my own vanilla-caramel weaving through all of it.
"What's wrong, Sugarplum?" Nash asks gently, turning in his seat to look at me properly with concerned blue eyes. "Talk to us. What happened at the end there?"
I take a shaky breath, my hands twisting in my lap.
"The negativity is kind of getting to me," I admit quietly, hating how small my voice sounds. "I know I shouldn't let it. I know it's just internet comments from strangers who don't actually know me. But it's been building and building, and today it just... it got to me. Got under my skin."
The three of them exchange a loaded look—that silent communication they do that makes me feel like they're having an entire conversation without words.
"Why don't you take a break from social media?" Theo suggests carefully, his voice calm and logical. "Step back for a week or two. Let things cool down. Give yourself space to breathe."
"I know I should," I say, rubbing my face tiredly.
"I've honestly been feeling off for the past week.
Out of sorts. Anxious all the time. I don't like getting stuck in my head like this, but I can't seem to stop overthinking everything.
Every comment. Every view count. Every fluctuation in engagement. "
And I've been having nightmares again.
About Kael. About being trapped. About them deciding I'm not worth keeping. But I don't want to tell them that.
Don't want to seem weak or broken.
"And the emails are getting completely out of hand," I add, almost as an afterthought, not really thinking about the implications.
All three of them frown simultaneously, their bodies going tense.
"Emails?" Nash asks sharply, his tone shifting to something harder. "What emails? What are you talking about?"
I realize I've said too much. Opened a door I meant to keep closed.
"I—"
I'm about to try to explain when my phone rings suddenly, cutting me off mid-thought. Charlotte's name flashes on the screen. I answer quickly, grateful for the interruption even though something about the timing feels wrong.
"Hey, Charlotte, what's—"
"Um, Reverie? Can you pass by the office? As soon as possible?” Her voice sounds wrong. Off. Nervous and strained in a way I've never heard from her before. “Like, right now?"
My stomach drops. Something's wrong. Charlotte never sounds like this. She's always confident, professional, and in control.
I glance around, trying to orient myself geographically. "Uh, sure. We're pretty close, I think. We're leaving the town square now." I look to Nash questioningly, my heart starting to pound. "Can you drive to Charlotte's office?"
He nods once, already starting the truck's engine, his jaw set in a hard line.
I put the call on speaker so everyone can hear, my hands shaking slightly.
"What's wrong, Charlotte? You sound really upset. Did something happen?"
There's a pause.
A heavy, awful, terrifying pause that makes my stomach drop even further. I can hear her breathing, hear her trying to find words.
"Well," Charlotte says finally, and I can hear her swallow hard, "we're about to be hit with a lawsuit. For hiring you. My company. My business that I built. Lawsuit."
I gasp, the sound sharp and painful in the quiet truck.
"What?! Why?! That doesn't make any sense! We have a legal contract!"
Charlotte's voice is tight with stress and something else—anger, maybe, or fear.
"Your pack...your old pack. Kael is here at my office right now with a lawyer. He's declaring that you're still legally their Omega under their pack registration, so by entering into a contract with another pack, you're violating their existing pack agreement and pack law."
"What?!" The word comes out strangled, choked. My vision blurs. My hands start shaking uncontrollably. "That's—that's not possible. I left. He terminated the pack bond. I filed all the paperwork. I did everything right. I followed every legal step!"
No. No, no, no.
This can't be happening.
I left. I'm free. I'm supposed to be free.
I did everything right. I filed the dissolution paperwork. I waited the mandatory waiting period. I'm free. I have to be free.
But what if I'm not?
What if I missed something?
If there was some technicality I didn't understand?
What…if I'm still bound to them legally and I didn't even know?
The truck is completely silent except for Charlotte's breathing on the phone and my own rapid panicked breathing. All three Alphas are rigid with tension, their scents shifting dramatically to something darker, more dangerous, more primal. Protective rage.
They're going to take me back.
Force me to return. Everything I've built—the happiness, the safety, the belonging—it's all going to disappear.
They're going to drag me back and I'll never escape again.
Nash's voice is deadly calm when he speaks, but I can hear the barely controlled fury underneath.
"We're on our way."