Chapter 35 Don’t Mess With Nash #2
"Kael finalized the papers himself! He signed them personally!
He mocked me for weeks and weeks afterward, letting everyone in the pack and the town know I was leaving, making cruel jokes about how pathetic and worthless I was!
About how glad he was to be rid of me!" Her voice rises with each word, desperation and confusion bleeding through.
"Why is he now suddenly wanting to claim me back? ! What changed?!"
She looks at me with red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained blotchy cheeks, absolute devastation and betrayal written across every feature.
"Because I'm fucking happy? Is that why? Because I finally found something good and genuine and he can't stand seeing me happy?! Because I'm thriving without him and that destroys his narrative?!"
She's right.
That's exactly why. Kael can't stand that she left him and immediately did better. Found a better pack. Found happiness. Found success. Found her worth. It destroys his ego. Makes him look bad. Makes him the villain in the story. So he's trying to take it all away from her. Pull her back down.
Prove she's still his property.
I pull her into my arms without hesitation, wrapping her up completely and securely against my chest. She collapses against me immediately, sobbing into my shirt hard enough to soak the fabric through to my skin.
Her hands fist desperately in the material.
Her whole body shakes with the force of her crying.
This is what Kael did to her.
Broke her down so thoroughly that even the threat of him coming back sends her into complete panic. Made her doubt her own memory. Tried to make her think she's worthless. Believe she doesn't deserve good things.
I've seen psychological warfare before.
I hold her tight and close, one hand stroking her hair in long soothing motions from crown to ends, the other rubbing firm circles on her back.
"Let it out. I've got you. You're completely safe here with me. Let it all out. Every bit of fear and anger and confusion and hurt. I can handle it. I can handle all of it."
She did do everything right.
Every single step was correct and proper and legal.
We verified it ourselves—Theo ran a complete comprehensive background check on her legal status using his military intelligence contacts.
Clean dissolution. Proper filing. No outstanding pack obligations or clauses.
No loopholes. Kael is lying through his teeth.
This is purely a power play. Intimidation tactic. Psychological warfare.
But she doesn't know that yet.
Doesn't know we've already verified her freedom.
I let her cry until the sobs slow gradually, until her breathing evens out naturally, until the trembling stops and her body relaxes against mine. Takes maybe five or six minutes. Feels much longer. Feels like watching someone drown and being able to do nothing but hold them.
When she finally pulls back slightly, hiccupping softly, exhausted from the emotional purge, I release her enough to wipe away her tears gently and carefully with my thumbs.
Her face is blotchy and red and swollen.
Eyes puffy. Nose running. Mascara smudged.
Beautiful in her raw vulnerability and trust.
I crouch down so I'm below her eye level while she's still sitting on the conference table. Non-threatening position. Makes her feel less trapped.
"I know this is just a ploy to frighten you," I say quietly, catching her gaze and holding it. "But Theo and I had already gathered everything. We've been preparing for this."
She blinks, confusion cutting through the lingering panic.
"What do you mean?"
I smirk slightly.
"I want you to go along with it. Act naive when we go in there. If Kael claims you're missing something or that the dissolution wasn't complete, act shocked and confused. Act like you believe him. But go along with whatever he says."
Her eyebrows furrow.
"Why? Why would I do that?"
My smirk widens into a full genuine smile.
"Because Theo and I have been preparing for Kael to make some kind of move against you for weeks now.
Ever since you went viral on social media.
Ever since your follower count started climbing dramatically and you started getting real attention and opportunities.
We knew he wouldn't be able to stand seeing you succeed without him.
Seeing you happy. Seeing you thriving. It would destroy his ego. "
We started preparing the day her TikTok hit 5,000 followers.
Started gathering documentation. Making copies.
Recording statements. Building a case. Theo's military intelligence training came in useful.
He knows how to build an airtight case. How to anticipate enemy moves.
How to prepare contingencies, and matched with my skills in the vicious art of law, this is going to be a peace of cake.
I lean in slightly, letting her see my confidence.
"We have copies of every single document you filed for the pack dissolution.
The original petition. The notice of intent.
The final dissolution papers. The confirmation of filing.
All with timestamps and verification codes.
We have copies of all three pack lawyers' consultations where they each independently verified everything was legal and proper. "
I continue listing.
"We have the signed dissolution agreement with Kael's signature—which we had verified by a professional handwriting expert who will testify it's authentic.
Testimony from multiple witnesses who heard him mock you publicly about leaving.
Recordings of him telling people he was glad to be rid of you.
Social media posts from that time period bragging about being free. "
Her eyes widen slightly.
She didn't know we'd been gathering all of this. Didn't know how thorough we'd been.
Theo and I spent weeks on this. Late nights going through documentation. Making calls. Verifying sources. Building an ironclad case. Because we knew. Knew someone would try something. Knew her past wouldn't stay buried. Knew we needed to be ready to defend her.
"We have enough evidence and documentation to not just defend you, but to completely destroy his credibility," I say seriously. "To prove beyond any doubt that he's lying. To make him look like the vindictive ex-Alpha trying to punish his former Omega for daring to be happy without him."
I hold her gaze.
"But this confrontation with Charlotte needs to happen first. We need him to commit to his lie publicly and officially.
Need him to make his accusations in front of witnesses.
Need him to file his fraudulent lawsuit with the courts.
Need him to go all-in with whatever fake claim he's making about you still being bound to his pack.The bigger and more elaborate his lies become, the more official he tries to make it, the more witnesses he brings, the harder he'll fall when we systematically prove every single word is false," I explain.
"If we shut him down immediately, he can backtrack.
Claim misunderstanding. Save face. But if we let him commit fully first?
He can't take it back. Can't claim it was a mistake. He's trapped by his own lies."
That's the key.
Let him dig his own grave. Let him make it deep. Let him climb in voluntarily.
Then we bury him.
She frowns, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
"What if everyone finds out? About the lawsuit? On social media? I'll get massive backlash. People will think I'm a liar or that I trapped you guys or that everything was fake. I'll lose the brand deals. Lose everything I built."
I study her face carefully.
"Do you need the money? From the brand deals?"
She thinks about it. Really genuinely considers the question instead of answering reflexively or saying what she thinks I want to hear. Her practical side engaging. Her business mind calculating numbers and security.
She doesn't need it.
Not financially. Not for survival.
We take complete care of her.
She has full access to pack accounts. Can buy anything she wants or needs.
She's made substantial money from the brand deals already—more than enough to be comfortable and independent even if everything stopped tomorrow and she never made another dollar.
The pack contract alone gave her security and stability.
A guaranteed income regardless of social media.
The social media success was always bonus income.
Nice to have but not necessary for survival.
She could lose every single brand deal, lose every sponsorship and every follower, and she'd still be fine. Still be secure. Still be provided for. Because we provide for her.
She's ours, after all.
She slowly shakes her head, decision made.
"No. I don't need it at all. You guys take care of me completely. More than I ever expected or needed. And I've already made more money from the social media and brand deals than I ever imagined I would in my entire life. More than enough to feel secure and independent if I ever needed to be."
Good. That's the right answer. The honest answer. She's thinking clearly now. She's coming back to herself.
"Then why does it matter what anonymous strangers think?
" I ask gently but pointedly. "Those people online…
most of them don't actually care about you the way the people in this town genuinely do.
They don't know you personally. Don't see you at community events doing good things.
Don't interact with you face to face and see your character.
They're just consuming content and forming opinions based on incomplete information. "
I lean in slightly, making sure she's really hearing me.
"Sure, Oakridge gossips. God knows everyone talks.
The rumor mill never stops turning. But they know real facts versus manufactured online drama.
They see you at the gingerbread competition winning first place fairly through skill.
They taste your incredible baking and recognize talent.
They watch you interact genuinely and kindly with everyone.
They know your character. They know you're authentic. "
And they do know.
I’ve heard them. Heard the way people in town talk about her. Positive things.
Kind things. How sweet, talented, and how lucky we are to have found her.
The town has adopted her.
"The judge offered you a paying job today," I remind her. "One who’s notoriously known for being picky about who she works with. Who's turned down dozens of applicants. She tasted your baking and immediately wanted to hire you. That means something."
I hold her gaze steadily.
"The judges praised your skill publicly.
The town applauded when you won. As long as Oakridge supports you—as long as the people who actually know you and interact with you and see your real character have your back—you have nothing to fear from faceless internet strangers who'll forget about this drama in a week when something new catches their attention. "
She's listening intently. Really processing what I'm saying. I can see the shift happening gradually in her expression. The fear giving way to understanding. To cautious hope. To determination.
"Go along with Kael's accusations when we walk in there," I continue firmly, using my command voice. "Act exactly like he expects you to act. Act naive and worried and confused. Act like you believe his lies completely. Like you're terrified he might be right. Give him what he wants to see."
I lean in closer.
"If he wants to defame you publicly, let him think he's winning.
Let him think he's got you trapped and helpless.
Let him commit fully and completely to his fabricated story.
Bring witnesses. Make official statements.
File his fraudulent lawsuit. The bigger and more elaborate and more public his claims become, the more witnesses he brings forward, the more official documentation he creates, the harder and more spectacular he'll fall when we systematically and publicly prove every single word is a deliberate calculated lie. "
And he will fall.
Hard.
I'll make sure of it.
Nobody threatens my Omega. Nobody tries to take her away. Nobody makes her cry like this. Kael is going to regret ever coming after her. Going to regret thinking he could intimidate her.
Going to regret thinking we'd just roll over.
I grin confidently, reaching up to wipe away the last lingering traces of tears from her cheeks with careful tender strokes. My thumbs trace her cheekbones gently.
"Then we'll prove to everyone watching—to Kael, to his entire pack, to this whole town, to anyone paying attention—exactly why they shouldn't mess with me, Nash Rivera Callahan."
And I mean it.
Every single word.
She takes a shaky breath, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
"Okay. Okay, I can do this. I can play along. I can act naive."
"You can," I confirm. "You're stronger than you think. Stronger than Kael ever gave you credit for. You left him. You built a new life. You found success and happiness. You won a gingerbread competition today. You can handle one confrontation with your lying ex-Alpha."
I stand up from my crouch, offering her my hand. She looks at it for a moment, then takes it. Her grip is stronger now. More confident.
"Ready?"
She slides off the conference table, her legs a bit shaky still but holding her weight. She's standing on her own. Composed. The worst of the panic has passed.
She's breathing normally. Color is returning to her face.
"Ready," she says, her voice stronger now. Determined. Steady. "Let's go prove why nobody should mess with Nash Rivera Callahan."
That's my girl.