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Ash punched Medjul in the shoulder. “What’s this? Hope? You soft bastard.”
Medjul rubbed his upper arm. “Man,fuck you.”
“You could never be so lucky,” Ash said, winking.
They returned to their game… but Avery’s head wasn’t in it. He could only replay Wilder’s words and wonder if Medjul might be right. Thanks to his distraction, the guys cleaned him out at least half of his account, but he wasn’t too upset. He had little need for much in there, and he’d rather they win it and have their needs met. They might have viewed charity with disdain. Losing the money in a hand of poker was likely much easier to swallow, he presumed.
He climbed into bed that night with hope swelling in his chest for the first time in weeks.
And he actuallyslept.
20
Outside was scarcely gray, the sun barely risen. It was so early that Wilder heard the newspaper slapping against his apartment door as he sucked down his morning coffee. Shoving a piece of near burnt toast between his lips, he opened out into the hallway and snagged the paper from the mat. He tossed it to the island and went back to finish the rest of his coffee and toast before heading out for another day of protesting.
Something caught his eye from the curled front page. He ripped off the string circling the paper and opened to read the second headline squeezed beside the main one:Alpha CEO Begs Public for Omega Rights. Wilder scoffed, wondering where the journalist had gotten their information. No one had contacted him, besides the piece of trash from the newscast. Quickly, he read the piece and found they’d focused primarily on Avery’s story—which they thankfully had gotten mostly correct. When he reached one part, he saw the writer had reached out to Gray, quoting Avery’s uncle.
The last couple of paragraphs spoke about Wilder appearing on the news, and his rallying cry for others to join his protest.
The TV reporter’s words whispered in his brain. Would anyone actually come out to join him?
Twenty minutes later, Wilder scrubbed a hand over his face as he stalked down the street toward the courthouse. Sunshine filled the sky, the beautiful blue attracting his attention. The morning was warmer than the one before and he, his fingers, toes, and nose were all the happier for it. For some reason, his hopes were high. Perhaps all the news would indeed help.
As soon as he arrived at the courthouse steps, he noticed a cluster of people holding their own handmade signs.
Omega Rights NOW!
Free Avery!
The half dozen supporters triggered a smile. It warmed him to see he wasn’t alone out there. Six was better than nothing and would definitely get some attention from passersby. Someonehadheard his message and responded.
Their voice would be amplified.
“Good morning,” he said, welcoming them. “I appreciate you all coming out.”
“Let’s get this straight,alpha. I’m here for Avery and the rest of my kind, not you or yours,” a brash protestor spat, pointing a finger his way.
Wilder lifted his hands. “I’m only here for Avery myself… and other omegas, of course.” His thoughts went to his child growing in Avery’s belly. The babe might very well be an omega. Knowing what he then knew, there was no way he’d sit idly by and not allow his omega sons to have the same freedoms others would.
One omega in the pack, a small guy with a baby carrier hefted on his back, filled with a towheaded mini replica, smiled and said, “Don’t mind him. What you’re doing here is wonderful.”
The rest added their agreement.
“Honestly, I’m focused on my omega at the moment, but I support what he’s trying to do for himself and others. I just wanted to get the word out. He said he wanted to be loud and not make it easy for the government… so let’s get loud.”
“Let’s do it!” the small omega said, lifting a sign that screamed ‘Free Avery’.
They marched back and forth in a circle. From the corner of his eye, he saw a couple arrive and enter formation. He smiled and nodded their way, pleased to add to their number.
As the first hour passed, more protestors arrived—a mix of alpha and beta, but mostly omega. Some had little ones on their shoulders, holding their signs aloft. A large group arrived on a bus, and more came in singles and pairs. Nearing the time the courthouse opened, there were at least two-hundred souls, if not more.
His heart was full. Perhaps his little idea—spurred on by Avery—would make some kind of impact after all.
An hour longer, the two-hundred burgeoned closer to a thousand. By mid-morning, Gray found him amongst the throng, a bullhorn in one hand. Avery’s younger brothers were at his side, signs clutched in theirs.
“Hi there, Wilder.”
“What’re you doing here?” Wilder asked.
