Page 186 of Knot So Social

Finally, I have my words on paper, and I review the script, shallow breaths wisping through me as I read and fix a few points. The truth, in all its messy nakedness.

We set up my green screen room, except I cover the backdrop with a black sheet, pinning the folds in place with help from my alphas. We drag one of the bucket seats in front of it and after some special prep, I dress up in a cream satin gown—right after I cut a split in the side almost to my hip.

I sit down and cross my legs, and Jeremy snaps some photos to show me how it looks. The black and white pallet carries an elegant somberness. And me? Sexy, fragile, and scarred.

For the first time in my life, I don’t cover up the Lichtenberg figures. They’re on full display, along with the rest of me.

My alphas settle on stools behind the cameras and lighting gear, hiding their nerves with clasped hands. Jeremy, who’s my self-professed cameraman, starts the recording, checks it, and gives me a thumbs up.

I stare into the lens.

“Hello, Omegalings. Right now, my feed is blowing up with all sorts of things, and you deserve to know the truth. So here it is.

“Yes, I faked my off-site videos. If you stop watching now, that’s fine. I understand, and I hope I made your life better somehow along the way. But if you’re curious to learn why I faked those videos, and why I’m sitting here now, like this, then listen up. This is the truth. You may find it hard to believe, but I’ll post my medical details and arrest records as evidence in a linked folder. It’s the least I can do. All I ask, is that you hold off on judging me until the end.

“Because this is the story of Willow Sheldon, the Boss Omega, unmasked.”

Chapter fifty-eight

Jeremy

Willow takes a deep breath and looks directly into the camera, eyes filled with pain.

“Fifteen. A wonderful, wild time to be alive. Like most teenagers, I spent my time at school with the normal complaints about too much work while reveling in informal art studio spaces and lunches on the top oval. My wonderful friend group enjoyed hunting digital pets, road trips to the ocean, and eating pizza under the stars. Resigned to be betas since we hadn’t revealed a different designation, we thought we’d stay friends forever.”

She pauses, collecting her thoughts, and I smile, picturing my omega as a care-free teenager. I already know from our few talks that she grew up in a foster home, which was a neutral environment for her. But at least school provided a good experience.

For a while.

Willow continues, gaze steady into the camera. “One morning, I woke up in night-sweats, my scent so thick in my nose I showered twice. Convinced I was imagining things, I went to school as normal. Except every alpha head turned as I walked past.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth, her scent in the room spiking with the memory.

“April 22, I became an omega.” She holds out on hand to examine her fingers. “My nails grew faster, my voice softened, and my hair suddenly went from wild and unmanageable to luxurious and smooth, as if I had keratin treatments every night.”

“The bonus gift?” Her sad smile tugs at my heart. “Heightened sense of smell. I recognized every person in a room before laying eyes on them. Alphas set my stomach aflutter. Hot dreams, slick . . .” Willow winces and clasps her knee tight enough to wrinkle her dress. “Overnight my body turned upside down.”

Our bond tingles with her unease. I dig my fingers into my jeans, remembering that same confusing discovery, although mine happened when I was thirteen. Like my voice box deepening and hair growing in new places, it was as if the ground kept shifting underfoot.

“And then they looked my way.” Willow’s voice breaks a little.

I squeeze my fist, aching to run to her side and offer her support. But all I can do is sit by the cameras and keep listening in silence.

“Sixteen-year-old Drew Summen, the drummer in the school band, seventeen-year-old Phil Kalar, captain of the basketball team, and eighteen-year-old Bryson Ilvine, a brooding, motorbike riding god of Cleveland South Senior High School.”

I cross my arms over the tight sensation in my chest. My omega struggles to say their names, the words clearly leaving a bad taste in her mouth. I wish I could drag them out and make them pay, but even if I could, that wouldn’t change the past.

“Now that I think back,” Willow continues. “I can’t recall Bryson being good at anything. But to high school girls, he had the looks and the raspy adult voice to make all our butterflies flock out of control.”

Joel and I exchange loaded glances across the camera gear. A muscle ticks in his jaw. He’s working very hard to keep his emotions in check, but they’re simmering in the bond with dark intent.

Willow sucks her cheeks in for a moment, gathering her strength. When she speaks, her voice rings hollow, as if she’s speaking about someone else’s life.

“He took my virginity on a cold autumn night in the back of a borrowed car. They paraded me around, calling me their “omega chick” and saying betas weren’t worth my time. One by one, my friends stopped wanting to hang out, and I thought it was my fault. Turns out, the three alphas were telling them I didn’t want to see them.”

She stops, such a tortured look in her eyes I can barely stay in my seat. The bond throbs with mental pain, her rising anxiety setting my teeth on edge.

Moisture glints in Willow’s eyes as she adds, “If any of my friends see this, I want you to know it wasn’t my choice to cut you out. I take responsibility for letting it happen, but that was never what I wanted.”