Oracle Pov

She’s an hour late. This is ridiculous. At this point, she better not even show up. I was very clear with her this morning, I told her she couldn’t be late. My foot taps nervously against the ground, my teeth gnawing at my nail as anxiety coils tighter in my chest.

Today is the biggest shoot of my career. Hand in hand with Alpha and Beta models who have worked with the luxury clothing brand Kisan for years, I am finally stepping into the spotlight.

For the first time in the brand’s history, they are going to have an omega brand ambassador, and that omega is me. I have clawed my way to this moment, sacrificed everything for it, and now this girl is jeopardizing it.

I shouldn’t have trusted her. I should have done it myself.

I sit stiffly on a camp chair near my makeup van, watching the chaos unfold around me.

Assistants rush back and forth, stylists carry garment bags, makeup artists chatter as they prepare their brushes. The location is breathtaking, fields of bright red roses stretching endlessly, and at the center, a goddess statue newly erected just for the ad. It wasn’t here when we arrived; it was placed deliberately, a symbol of grandeur.

"Chill. Your costume will be here," Stef says, lounging beside me, snacking on gummy bears. She doesn’t even have a part in the ad today, she just came to support me... and, of course, to find content to tweet about.

"It’s been an hour. The girl isn’t coming. I can tell the director is getting agitated," I mutter, paranoia dripping from every word.

Lorali Alma had one job. After delivering Augi’s lunch, she was supposed to fetch my custom Kisan suit from the dry cleaners and bring it here.

That’s it.

That’s all she had to do. I didn’t ask her to go to the moon. So why isn’t she here? She has to be doing this on purpose, trying to ruin me.

"Girl? I thought one of your husbands was bringing your suit," Stef says, narrowing her eyes at me.

"No, they’re busy. It was Lorali, that Alma omega girl," I wave her off, drowning in stress.

"Wait. This omega still hasn’t found her pack? It’s been like a month. Is she truly undesirable?" Stef exclaims, her eyes widening as if she’s just discovered gold falling from the sky. She whips out her phone, her fingers already poised to type, every intention of making my words public.

"Don’t you dare tweet a word of what I just said." My voice is sharp, a blade cutting through her excitement. Stef is worse than paparazzi when it comes to gossip, she works harder than anyone to dig it up and spread it.

"But—" she pouts, peeling her eyes off her phone, sulking like I’ve stolen her kitten.

"No, Stef." I don’t budge.

"Fine," she mumbles, stuffing the phone back into her pocket, chewing her gummies with angry vigor.

"Why is she bringing your costume anyway? Isn’t that a maid’s job? Or an assistant’s?" she presses, leaning back in her chair, her tone dripping with irritation.

"She offered. Said she wanted to show how grateful she is to the pack for letting her stay." The lie slips easily from my lips. I can’t tell the truth. I can’t say, one of my pack members bonded with her by mistake, and now I fear she’ll make the entire pack bond with her and steal my mates away, so I’m making her life miserable until she leaves. If I said that, my career would vanish in an instant. Especially since I know Lorali would twist the tale to suit herself.

"Oh, that was kind—" Stef pauses mid‑sentence, her chewing slowing, her eyes narrowing as if she’s having a revelation.

"What if this girl is jealous of you?" she says, her voice hushed, her tone carrying the weight of a genius moment.

"What?"

"It makes perfect sense," Stef insists, her voice sharp with certainty. "She’s jealous of you. She wants your pack, and that’s why she hasn’t found one for herself. She wants your career too. That’s why she offered to bring your costume, she knew if you didn’t have it, Kisan would drop you."

I pause, chewing on her words. I suppose what Stef says has some truth, but only in the wrong context. And context matters. This version of events would ruin Lorali completely, paint her as a scheming omega. But that’s not what I want. I don’t want her destroyed, I just want her out of my house. She’s a scheming bitch, yes, but she deserves a pack of her own. All omegas do.

"No, that’s n—"

"Walter, a girl up front is calling for you!" A production assistant shouts, appearing suddenly from the chaos.

I spring up, my pulse racing. Finally. She took her time, but she’s here.

"Oh, you’re the assistant, right? Do you know the gir—" Stef’s voice trails after me, but I don’t bother listening. I can’t. I need my suit.

Lorali Pov

I’ve never seen a movie set before. I think this is a movie set, or some other kind of production set, but whatever it is, it’s definitely a set.

I stand awkwardly, feeling out of place in this botanical‑garden‑type location, the air heavy with perfume from the roses and the hum of voices all around.

I clutch Oracle’s custom suit in one of those big black garment bags, holding it carefully so it doesn’t wrinkle.

I would be wandering around, searching for him, but the woman with the clipboard told me to stand here. She said she’d bring him. The man who is probably going to murder me with his words tonight for being an hour late.

"Omg, who is that?"

"Looks like a vampire."

"Who let that thing in?"

Whispers curl around me like smoke, sharp and cutting. I do my best to ignore them, but they sink into my skin anyway. Do I really look that bad, or are these people just cruel? My stomach twists, and self‑consciousness gnaws at me. I tug my hair behind my ear, trying to look more presentable ane trying to hide the exhaustion etched into my face.

"You’re late."

Walter’s voice slices through the noise. I spin around, and there he is, standing close enough that I can see the rage simmering in his eyes. He looks like he’s one second away from tearing me apart.

"I’m sorry, tr—"

"I’m not interested in hearing anything you have to say." His tone is cold, final. He snatches the suit from my hands without even looking at me. "Leave." He turns away, already walking, already dismissing me. Not even a thank you. What a selfish bastard.

"Is that the girl?" A voice squeals, high and sharp.

I turn instinctively, searching for the source, and see her, a woman in a black tracksuit and tinted glasses, standing near Walter. She’s pointing directly at me.

"Is that the Alma bitch trying to TAKE your pack?" she shouts, the word take dragged out deliberately, loud enough to attract attention. Heads turn. Eyes lock onto me.

And suddenly, the whispers multiply, louder, crueler, spewing gossip without restraint.

"No way, that thing is an Alma omega!"

"Looks like what Stef said earlier about her wanting to steal Walter’s pack checks out."

"Omegas are such whores."

The words hit me like stones, each one heavier than the last. I stand frozen, the garment bag no longer in my hands, my body trembling under the weight of their judgment.

I... I should leave. I turn with the intention of leaving, but the crowd has closed in around me, bodies pressing together, forming a circle. If I try to escape, I’ll have to push through all of them, clawing my way out like prey surrounded by predators.

"Guys, she’s L. Pack Spade allowed her to stay in their house out of the kindness of their hearts, to help her find a pack. But this greedy, entitled bitch wanted more. She wanted to take Walter’s pack for herself." Sunglasses announces, her voice sharp and theatrical, each word dripping venom as she steps closer to me.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, their faces twisting as they swallow her wretched story whole. Where did she even hear that lie? It’s not true. That’s not what happened.

I glance past her, desperate, and see Walter standing there quietly, holding his costume watching the whole thing unfold.

"Look at you. Did you really think you could steal his pack?" Sunglasses sneers, jabbing my forehead with her long, painted nails.

"I’m not a homewrecker, and Pack Spade is no—" I try to defend myself, but Walter’s voice cuts me off, suddenly opening his damn mouth.

"This girl has done nothing but threaten to take my place in the pack. She’ll make them leave me in a homeless shelter once she has them. Every day she does something to herself and blames me for it, trying to ruin my image."

Tears spill down Walter’s face. His voice trembles, his body shakes like a freezing puppy. He looks like the perfect image of a victim.

My eyes widen. This lying bastard. After everything he and his pack have put me through, he has the gall to act like he’s the victim. He has the gall to cry.

The crowd shifts, their pity sliding toward Walter, their disgust sharpening against me. Sunglasses rushes back to him, wrapping him in comfort, making the scene even more pitiful.

"It’s not—" I try again, but my words are cut short as something wet and heavy smacks against my face.

I look down. A tomato.

Then another. And another. Suddenly, food rains down on me, tomatoes, bread, whatever they can grab. Where are they even getting it? Their curses rise with each throw, their voices venomous.

I cower, ducking my head as my white uniform stains red and brown, the fabric ruined. My eyes flicker toward Walter, still crying, still being comforted, still playing the victim.

I want to hit him. To give him a reason to cry as much as he’s crying. If I ran at him now, if I landed a good hit, no one would be able to peel me off him.

The thought burns in me, but Alma’s six pledge rings in my ears:

Six: I will never be the cause of pain toward another Omega.

Six: I will never be the cause of pain toward another Omega.

Six: I will never be the cause of pain toward another Omega.

I can’t escape it. I can’t bring myself to strike him. I won’t break my pledges. They’re the only things I have left from Alma.

I bite back tears, my vision blurring. Something hard slams into the back of my head. Then another. Then another. Rocks. They’re throwing rocks now.

"This is what homewreckers deserve!"

"We stand with Walter, you viper!"

"Die!"

I need to get out before they actually kill me.

With no other choice, I cover my face from the cameras and the stones and charge into the crowd. I don’t care who I hit. I push through, clawing my way forward. It’s brutal, hands yank my hair, nails scratch my skin but I don’t stop. I power through with one thought blazing in my mind.

I HATE WALTER.