Chapter 5
Adrian
I close our trailer door behind me, the soft click barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.
The small space feels too warm despite the cooling system working at full power.
I drop my bag on the bench by the door and stretch, feeling the pleasant burn in my shoulders from the stunt sequence we filmed today.
Bash isn’t back from his final costume check yet—his side of the trailer is still, the small desk lamp casting shadows across his rumpled script pages.
I move to the small fridge tucked under the counter and pull out a water.
The water is cool going down, exactly what I need after six hours of filming.
My throat feels parched, my skin tight with makeup I haven’t fully removed.
Tomorrow’s schedule sits on the small table between the two bunks, highlighted in my handwriting—another early call, another day of stunts and fight choreography.
But my mind isn’t on tomorrow’s scenes.
Instead, I keep seeing Maya. The way her eyes went wide when she turned around and found us in the security checkpoint room.
The slight catch in her breath, the flush spreading across her cheeks.
And then that sound—soft and low and entirely unintentional—that passed her lips before she could stop it.
I've known omegas my whole life. But I’ve never seen someone so clearly in the middle of presenting, so obviously unprepared for what’s happening to them. She looked terrified. Confused. Like she was watching her body betray her from somewhere far away.
The water bottle crinkles in my grip. I set it down on the counter, careful not to make a sound. It’s too quiet in here. I should be tired after the day we’ve had—the fall sequence alone would have exhausted me normally—but my mind keeps circling back to the same moment in that room with Maya.
“So,” I say to the empty trailer, because keeping the thought to myself isn't helping. “Are we going to talk about the fact that we just found our omega?”
The words hang in the air. Our omega. Not a phrase I thought I’d ever say, especially not on a film set in the middle of a blockbuster production.
But there‘s no denying what happened, what we saw, what we heard.
I move to the small couch tucked under the window, dropping down with a soft thud. The fabric is rough against my skin, another reminder that I haven’t changed out of my costume shirt. I should shower. Should eat something. Should check the script for tomorrow’s scenes.
Instead, I close my eyes and let the memory play again. Maya, backing up against the desk. The sound she made—that soft, almost questioning hum that started low in her throat. The moment everything changed, written across her face in real time.
Maybe she'd known for longer than anyone realized. Or maybe she'd only realized it herself today. Either way, she'd looked terrified. And we walked in at exactly the wrong moment—or maybe exactly the right one.
The door to the trailer opens with a bang, startling me from my thoughts.
Sebastian strides in, his energy filling the small space immediately.
He‘s still in costume—black jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to show the edge of the fake tattoo the makeup team spent forty minutes applying this morning.
“You’re not going to believe what I just heard,” he says, dropping onto his bunk across from me. “According to the rumors, Elias took Maya home. Like, personally drove her. And he told the second AD she’s taking tomorrow off.”
I sit up straighter. “He what?”
Bash nods, a quick, sharp movement. “That‘s what Kim said. Apparently, he just showed up at her office and said Maya wasn’t feeling well, that she needed the day, and oh by the way, he’d make sure she got home safely.” His eyes narrow. “Very protective. Very... territorial.”
My chest tightens. “He knows she’s an omega.”
“Of course he knows.” Bash leans forward, his voice dropping.
“He’s been watching her for weeks. Haven’t you noticed?
Every time she walks into a room, he finds a reason to be there.
Every time she’s checking props or talking to a PA or running schedules, he’s somewhere nearby. Just... watching her.”
I think back, scanning through the last few months of filming.
Bash is right. Elias has been there—always at the edges, never directly involved, but never far from wherever Maya is working.
I'd noticed it vaguely, the way you notice background details in a scene you're filming. I'd just never stopped to ask why.
“He recognized what was happening before we did,” I say.
Bash tilts his head slightly, watching me.
“That's not the point though,” I continue.
“Then what is?” Bash questions.
“He was already watching her.”
“Yeah,” Bash says after a beat. “And you’re acting like you haven’t been watching her too.”
His eyes narrow. “You just didn’t have a reason to question it before.”
I look away first, crossing to the window. Outside, the crew is still working—breaking down the set for tomorrow‘s rebuild, hauling cable, checking equipment.
“What do we do?” I ask, turning back to face Bash. “Because we can’t just ignore this.”
He raises an eyebrow. “We? There’s a we in this now?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” He stands, crossing to the small kitchenette. “Because five minutes ago, we were just two actors who happened to walk into a room where a beta you’ve been watching for months started presenting as an omega. Now we’re a we, and somehow we’re already acting like that means something.”
He pulls a beer from the fridge, popping the top with a sharp hiss. “Meanwhile, Elias has been watching her too. He just didn’t pretend it didn’t mean anything.”
His eyes flick back to mine. “So tell me what the plan is here, Adrian.” His tone is challenging, but I can hear the concern underneath.
“I don’t have a plan,” I admit. “But we can’t just pretend nothing happened. She needs—”
“She needs space,” Bash interrupts. “She needs time to figure out what’s happening to her without three alphas breathing down her neck telling her what it means.”
The words land harder than I expect. He’s right. Of course he’s right. But the thought of leaving her alone when she’s so clearly in the middle of a presentation makes my chest ache.
“We can’t just leave her alone,” I say. “You saw her. The way she froze. The way she didn’t know what to do. And if Elias is already—”
“If Elias is already involved, then she has someone watching out for her,” Bash finishes. “Which is exactly what you’re worried about, right? That he’s going to swoop in and claim her before we even have a chance to figure out what we want?”
The question hangs between us. What we want. As if it’s that simple. As if that’s the part that matters.
“That’s not what this is! This is about making sure she’s okay. About being there if she needs us.”
Bash’s expression softens slightly. “I know that. But she’s not going to see it that way. Not right now. Not when she’s still figuring out what’s happening to her.”
He takes a long pull from his beer. “She doesn’t move like someone used to being watched.
She keeps her head down. Answers before people finish asking.
Moves on before anyone can thank her. And now she’s presenting as an omega on a film set with three alphas who can’t take their eyes off her.
” He shakes his head once. “We need to be careful.”
The anger drains out of me as quickly as it came. Bash is right. Again. We do need to be careful. This isn’t about what we want.
“So what do we do?” I ask again, the question quieter this time.
Bash considers for a moment, his eyes on the ceiling of the trailer. “We stay close,” he says finally. “Not enough to make it obvious. But enough that she knows we’re here. That she has options.”
The knot in my stomach eases slightly. Maya doesn't need answers tonight. She doesn't need promises or pressure. She just needs room to figure things out.
“We don’t crowd her,” I say. It feels right. Or close enough. “But we don’t leave her alone either.”
“And if she needs us?” Bash asks.
“Then we’re there,” I answer without hesitation.
He nods, a single, decisive movement. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” He drains the last of his beer, setting the empty bottle on the counter with a soft clink. “Now,” he adds, glancing back at me, “are we going to talk about the way you’re reacting to this?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I’m not—” I stop, jaw tightening.
“Sure you aren’t.” His grin is quick and sharp. “Just like I haven’t been noticing her too. We’re all dealing with this, Adrian. Some of us are just being more honest about it than others.”
It should bother me. It's clearly meant to make me react. Instead, something in my chest loosens, because Bash isn’t wrong, and I’m not the only one who’s been noticing her. I’m not the only one who let it go on longer than I should have.
“I should shower,” I say, pushing off from the wall. “Early call tomorrow.”
“Smart,” Bash agrees. “Get some sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” His eyes meet mine, serious for once. “And a longer one after that, if I’m reading this situation right.”
I nod, unable to argue with the assessment. Whatever happened next, Maya was going to have decisions to make. More than anyone should have to make all at once.
As I gather my things for the shower, my focus slips back to her before I can stop it. The way her eyes widened when she saw us. The way she froze like she didn’t understand what her body was doing. And that sound—low and completely unintentional.
I drag a hand through my hair, letting out a slow breath. I can’t stop thinking about the way my body reacted to her.
It shouldn't have happened that fast. Scent matches don’t just happen. They’re rare enough that most people go their whole lives without finding one. And yet the way we’re reacting to her doesn’t feel like chance.
If this is what I think it is, then nothing about today was small. Nothing about it felt temporary.
And the part that sits heavier than it should is the realization that I don't think walking away from her was ever really an option.