“I will not. Rosie is my omega. You won’t be dictating our bonding.”
Harlan’s expression goes dark the moment he understands who’s on the line. I put my father on speaker. Harlan’s smile goes feral.
“You really want to go against the family? Against the Morales family?” my father snaps.
“I most certainly do.” Harlan growls.
“Stonewell.” My father spits Harlan’s name like a curse.
“I believe I’ve proven I can handle myself with you and Mr. Morales more than once,” Harlan says. “Several times together. If you want to be humiliated again, be my guest.” His voice is cold ash.
My father tries a different tack, knowing intimidation won’t work on Harlan. “Perhaps there is some sort of arrangement—”
“There is no arrangement that will convince me to give you our omega,” Harlan says. “And if I get even a hint that you try anything against us or her, I will end you. End you in every financial and legal way possible. Do you understand?”
Surprisingly, the line stays open. My father likely knows that if he hangs up now, Harlan will make good on the threat. There’s a beat of silence while he weighs pissing off Harlan against provoking the Blackbear Pack.
“I understand,” he finally says, stiffness edging his voice.
“Good,” Harlan replies, and hangs up my phone. “I want everything set up. Cover every legal and financial front. Have everything poised so if they make a move, we can strike back quickly.”
When I chose Harlan as our dominant, I did it because I trusted him to stand his ground. Moments like this prove I was right — he’s the kind of force who can protect Rose.
He claps me on the shoulder. “No one fucks with our pack, Kai. It’ll be okay.”
I nod and pull up my phone again.
Me:
You okay Rosie?
Rosie:
Yeah… why?
Me:
No reason, just missing you.
Rosie:
… whats wrong.
I chuckle. As long as I have her, nothing’s wrong.
Rose
My back is sore. I slept on the couch again last night. Evander has been left as my guard alpha today. We’re walking into town to get coffee before I have to start my workday. After last night I need it.
More photographers are in town this morning, and every few steps, I hear the distinctclickof cameras behind us. The memory of the photographer in my yard rushes back, tightening my chest.
“Hey,” Evander says.
I glance sideways at him. His purple-streaked hair is perfectly coiffed, red glasses perched on the tip of his nose.
His smile is broad and easy. “Wanna give them a show?”
“A show?” I echo.
