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“The Reject Projectjust tried to use a highly illegal substance on me and Chelsey,” I began. “A drug that forces a female shifter into heat. I know this for afactbecause I’ve seen this chemical before in my work as a licensed and trained Tranquility operative.”
The other alphas, still fighting off the effect I was having on them, turned to listen. I needed to throw the whole show under the bus.
“The show has lost all credibility by doing something so underhanded, disgusting, and vile. They wanted to drug Chelsey and me to force some kind of orgy or something. This drug has an unknown origin and is being investigated at the highest levels by the Tranquility Council. This act of deception and pure abuse of power comes straight from the showrunners and the owners of the company behindThe Reject Project. Anyone watching needs to know that this show is not out to showcase love. This is the most-viewed program in the world, and all the producers want is drama and blood, sex and torture, pain and deception. They operate without any fear of being held accountable, and I call for someone—anyone—to form an inquest into their actions.”
I glanced over to see that Von was still not awake. I could go in for the kill. It was now or never.
“Every year, this show kills rejected wolves, all in the name of finding love. Each season, there are almost a dozen rejects here. On top of that,thousandsof others are not chosen for the show. How is that possible? How can there be so many rejects every single year? If Heline’s acolytestrulypaired them with their fated mates, how can there be this many rejections? Think about it. We all know something is wrong. If you look deep down, you’ll know it, too. There is something terribly wrong here, and I think it’s like a cancer, causing issues throughout all the packs. It’s possibly the reason for the tension that’s leading us all to war. The First Pack’s alpha had his own son sent here. Mika took a chancehereon Bloodstone Island—the most dangerous place on the planet—rather than stay in his pack after his own father had an affair with Mika’s fated mate. That’s right, Garth Sheen himself, the most powerful alpha in the world and one of the highest-ranking members ofThe Reject Projectboard of directors, engaged in behavior that undermines the entire fated mate tradition.”
The few staff members still on the terrace were staring at me in open-mouthed horror, but they didn’t move. If their expressions were any indication, I was making my point. If even five percent of the people watching believed what I was saying, this was all worth it. Damn the consequences. Sometimes, speaking the truth meant more than worrying about what might happen to you.
“Since coming on this show, my eyes have opened,” I continued. “I see how problematic the entire pack mentality has become. Any romantic illusions I had about fated mates have been shattered. Why the hell shouldn’t you be able to love whoever you want? Why should someone from the Tenth Pack be rejected simply because their fated mate is from Fourth? Why did Chelsey get rejected because she was in the Twelfth Pack? Can anyone give a coherent answer as to why we continually do this to each other? I’ve seen from my own experiences that the blood tests the moon goddess’s acolytes perform mean nothing. They are bullshit.
“The Reject Projectisn’t about finding a mate. It’s not about finding your true love. How do I know? Because I love Wyatt Rivers, and all the show is trying to do is tear us apart by killing one or both of us for ratings. If the show is not about finding love, then what is it about? From what I can see, it’s nothing more than a glorified death sentence. A way for powerful pack leaders and elders to get rid of people they don’t want around anymore. A way for them to sweep problems under the rug. This… thisabominationof a show is a mockery of real fated mate connections. I do believe they are real and that everyone deserves that kind of love. We aren’t getting that right now, and we need to tell the people in charge that we are sick and tired of it. Whether it be the rich and powerful, the acolytes, or Heline her-fucking-self.”
My breath came in heavy gasps, panic setting in when I realized what I’d done, the huge step I’d taken. Not only had I basically declared war on everything aboutThe Reject Project,but I’d admitted on live TV that I was in love with Wyatt.
The other alphas were looking at me with strange expressions on their faces. Gone were the looks of suspicion and confusion at my drug-fueled scent of heat. Now, they were caught in shocked introspection. Even the staff on the terrace looked like they were considering how much sense I made. They were frontline workers; most were only doing what they were told. They hadn’t thought about what was happening any more than the average fan did. My words had startled them into introspection. Maybe it was doing the same around the world.
A sudden sense of profound power gripped me. Staring into an inky-black camera lens was one thing, but knowing hundreds of millions of people were watching me was like staring into the void.
“She’s right!” J.D. shouted, taking a hesitant step toward me. “None of it is right. The fated mate connections haven’t been working for a long time.”
A grin formed on my lips when Chelsey spoke up, too.
“I believe Kira,” she said. “If this show has shown me anything, it’s that it has nothing to do with love and mates. It’s a bloodbath. All of it is a lie, orchestrated for ratings. It’s bullshit.”
Wyatt, finally coming down from whatever reaction his wolf had to the drug in my system, shifted back to his human form and stared at me. The intensity wasn’t sexual, not at the moment. It was more than that. He’d heard me confess my love for him.
“Cut!” Von’s rough voice screamed from the ground. “Cut now.”
The cameras almost immediately bobbed away, their lights flashing off. My chance to say more was gone, but was there really any more to say? I’d gotten it all out, and more than one contestant had agreed with me. What might be happening on the mainland now that I’d put this worm in everyone’s ear?
Von had rolled to his stomach and was pushing himself onto his feet. I’dneverseen him look so furious. His usual cool façade had given way to rage and vulgarity.
“Stupid motherfucker.” He staggered as he retook his feet.
He glanced around and saw that something was wrong. The staff beside him looked shell-shocked. The other cast members were all either glaring at him or staring off into space.
“What happened here? What the hell did you say while I was out?” Von demanded. “What the absolutefuckdid you say?”
I opened my mouth to answer. I was going to be honest with him, but his attention span must have been on the fritz from having his throat torn out. He spun away from me before the first word could come out of my mouth and leveled a finger at Wyatt.
“And you!” Von howled, his voice cracking. “This tuxedo cost ten thousand fucking dollars. What in the blue hell is wrong with you?” He gestured down at the suit that was now sprayed with blood. Von slapped his hands to his face and groaned. “I am never going to hear the end of this.”
The vampire visibly restrained himself, pulling back from his rage. The game show host returned. “Well, it’s out of my hands now. Whatever you all did while I was out can’t be taken back. Hopefully, it was for ratings. You realize I haven’t been killed on this show since season two?” He held up two shaking fingers. “Almost thirty years. It’s the reason I don’t go out in the jungle anymore. My gods. I’m going to go watch the replay.” He eyed me suspiciously. “I hope you didn’t do anything too foolish, Miss Durst.” He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “Though if you did, I’m sure she’ll find this evening even more entertaining than she’d hoped. She’s like me in that way. She loves seeing new things.”
“She who?” I asked.
Von didn’t answer, just snapped his fingers. “Security?” He looked around, baffled. “Where the hell is security?”
“You, uh, sent them away,” one of the serving staff said. “You didn’t want them on camera. Said it didn’t set the right mood.”
“Ugh, yes, that’s right. Thank you, Pamela.”
He pulled his phone from a pocket in his ruined jacket and hit a button. Ten seconds later, six burly security guards burst through the terrace door—two fallen angels, a demon, a half-demon, and two humans who looked like they’d been surviving on a diet of steroids and muscle-enhancing potions for the last two decades.
“Take them to their rooms.”
