12. Osias
TWELVE
OSIAS
The Ferrari’s engine purred to a stop in the grass parking area, the sleek red metal looking absurdly out of place among the practical SUVs and pickup trucks scattered across the field.
Osias cut the ignition and sat for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel as tension coiled through his shoulders.
Two days. Two days since Braxton had let Celina fall during what should have been a routine stunt, and the image of her plummeting toward the concrete floor still haunted his dreams. His lion had reacted on pure instinct, catching her before she could be seriously injured, but the aftermath had been a nightmare of speculation and twisted narratives.
The paparazzi had seized on the incident like vultures, spinning it into another chapter of their ongoing story about the “dangerous” Osias Fellan.
Headlines screamed about his “violent outburst” and “uncontrolled rage,” painting him as an unstable billionaire who couldn’t handle his girlfriend working with other men.
The fact that he’d literally saved Celina’s life seemed irrelevant to the narrative they were crafting.
Rennick’s handiwork, he thought grimly.
The timing was too convenient and the spin too calculated. First the kidnapping attempt by rogue lions, then Braxton’s “accident,” now a media campaign designed to make him look unhinged. Someone was orchestrating this chaos, and every instinct screamed that Rennick Hale was pulling the strings.
“You’re thinking so loudly I can practically hear your thoughts,” Celina said softly, her voice cutting through his dark spiral.
He turned to look at her, taking in the way the afternoon sunlight caught the highlights in her dark hair and made her green eyes sparkle with warmth.
She’d chosen a flowing sundress in yellow that complemented her skin perfectly, paired with comfortable sandals that would be practical for walking around the festival grounds.
“Sorry,” he said, forcing his grip to relax on the steering wheel. “Just processing everything.”
“Well, the festival looks amazing,” she said, deliberately shifting the conversation away from the weight pressing down on both of them.
Through the windshield, they could see the pride lands transformed into something magical. Colorful banners fluttered between ancient oak trees, food booths lined winding paths, and the sound of laughter and music drifted on the warm breeze.
“Yes, Lissa really outdid herself.”
Lissa had spent months planning this annual celebration, and it showed in every carefully considered detail. The festival was more than just entertainment—it was a reminder of what they were protecting, what made the Fellan pride worth fighting for.
Osias climbed out of the car and moved around the front to open Celina’s door.
Celina accepted his offered hand, her fingers intertwining with his as he helped her from the low-slung vehicle.
The simple contact sent warmth shooting up his arm, and the mate bond hummed with contentment at her nearness.
“Let’s just relax and have fun today,” she said, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Don’t think about anything else right now.”
Easier said than done, he thought, but nodded anyway.
She was right—they both needed this. A chance to remember what normal felt like before the chaos of Hollywood politics and family drama had invaded their world.
As they headed toward the festival entrance, Osias’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar scents and sounds of his pride in celebration.
Cubs shrieked with delight as they raced between booths, their parents calling after them with fond exasperation.
Teenagers clustered around the gaming area, their competitive banter adding to the general cacophony.
Elders sat in comfortable chairs beneath shade trees, watching the festivities with satisfied smiles.
This was what he’d built. What he’d spent fifteen years protecting and nurturing. A community where families could thrive, where traditions could flourish, and where everyone had a place and a purpose.
But even as warmth filled his chest at the sight, tension remained coiled in his muscles.
Somewhere in this crowd, Braxton was likely holding court, charming pride members with his easy smile and practiced charisma.
Margot would be nearby, no doubt working the crowd with her own brand of elegant manipulation.
Both of them playing their parts in whatever game they thought they were winning.
“Osias!” A familiar voice called out, and he turned to see Liam, one of the pride’s most respected elders, approaching with his mate Elena. “We were hoping you’d make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Osias replied, his Alpha mask sliding into place with practiced ease. “Liam, Elena, I’d like you to meet Celina.”
He felt rather than saw Celina’s slight hesitation—the moment when her own public persona threatened to surface. But then she smiled, and it was genuine rather than practiced.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” she said, extending her hand to Elena first. “Osias has told me so much about the pride’s traditions. This festival is incredible.”
“Lissa’s masterpiece,” Elena said with obvious affection. “That girl could organize a hurricane if she put her mind to it.”
As they chatted, Osias found himself studying Celina’s interactions with his pride members.
There was no trace of the Hollywood superstar in her manner—no calculated charm or rehearsed responses.
She asked genuine questions, laughed at Liam’s jokes, and somehow managed to make Elena feel like the most interesting person in the world.
She fits, he realized with a jolt of recognition.
Not because she was performing the role of Alpha’s mate, but because she genuinely cared about these people. The same authenticity that had drawn him to her was on full display here, making connections beyond fame or status.
“We should let you two explore,” Liam said eventually, his knowing smile suggesting he’d noticed Osias’s distraction. “But Celina, you must try the honey cakes at Booth Seven. Sarah’s recipe has been in her family for generations.”
As they moved deeper into the festival, some of Osias’s tension began to ease. This felt right. Celina belonged here, and his pride was already beginning to see it.
But then he caught a familiar scent on the breeze—expensive cologne mixed with barely contained frustration.
His jaw tightened as he spotted Braxton near the main stage, surrounded by a cluster of young pride members who hung on his every word.
Even from a distance, Osias could see his stepbrother’s performance was flawless—the concerned family member, the devoted son, the misunderstood victim of his older brother’s jealousy.
“He’s here,” Celina said quietly, following his gaze.
“I figured he would be.” Osias forced his voice to remain level. “He never misses a chance to work a crowd.”
The bitter truth was that Braxton was good at this part—the public face of leadership, the charismatic presence that drew people in and made them want to follow. It was a skill Osias had never bothered to cultivate, preferring to lead through actions rather than words.
A flash of honey-gold hair caught his attention before he heard her voice, and then Lissa was weaving through the crowd toward them with purposeful energy.
“Osias!” she called out, her face lighting up with genuine delight as she approached. “I’m so glad you made it.”
The warmth in her voice immediately cut through some of his lingering tension. This was why the festival mattered—moments like this, when his twin sister looked at him and saw not the Alpha or the CEO, but simply her brother who’d shown up when it counted.
Lissa reached them and immediately turned to Celina, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and something that looked suspiciously like mischief.
“And Celina,” she said, extending both hands in a gesture that was welcoming. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you properly. I’ve been a fan for years. But more than that, I’ve wanted to meet the woman who has my brother smiling and laughing more these days.”
“It’s lovely to meet you too,” Celina replied, and Osias could hear the genuine pleasure in her voice. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I hope all good things and not any embarrassing childhood stories,” Lissa said with mock concern.
Celina’s laugh was musical and completely unguarded. “Not too many.”
Lissa gasped in theatrical outrage and swatted Osias’s arm. “Just you wait. I’m going to fill Celina in on all your most mortifying moments.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Osias said, but he was smiling despite himself.
This was exactly what Lissa did—she found the humor in everything, reminded people not to take themselves too seriously, and somehow made everyone feel like they were part of an inside joke.
His lion settled at the familiar banter, recognizing the safety of pride, of family, of people who loved him regardless of his mistakes or his successes.
“Come on,” Lissa said, linking arms with both of them. “Come enjoy the festivities and stay around for the campfire later when we have the Telling.”
He felt Celina’s slight confusion through their bond and caught the way her brow furrowed slightly.
“The Telling,” he explained as Lissa guided them toward the food booths, “is something my mother started. The pride gathers to share stories—real ones, fictional ones, family histories, lessons learned. It’s a way to connect, to remember who we are as a community.”
“That sounds incredible,” Celina said, her voice holding a note of wonder. “Much better than any Hollywood event I’ve ever attended.”
The casual way she dismissed the glittering world she’d spent thirty years navigating told him everything about how she truly felt about that life. How exhausted she was by the performance of it all.