Page 53 of Puck Your Bunny

"Vayda! Come out and give us a statement!" The chanting starts outside.

I snap out of the freeze when Brendan lets out another distressed sound. I sprint to the front window. My hands shake as I yank the blackout curtains closed. The metal rings scrape against the rod. I move to the next window and pull the fabric tight, cutting off the strobe of the camera flashes.

I grab the remote and nudge the volume up just enough to mask the shouting outside. I reach for the noise-canceling headphones in the side pocket of the chair and slide them over his ears. He flinches at the touch, but his shoulders drop as the quiet settles over him.

"I'm right here, Bren." I drop to my knees on the hardwood floor and grip Brendan's thigh, rubbing my thumb over the fabric of his sweatpants in a slow rhythm.

His muscles stay tense.

I feel the weight of my phone in my pocket. I’d grabbed it from the kitchen floor hours ago, right after Brendan finished his lunch. I toggled the Do Not Disturb settings. Just Wally, Kel, Simon, and Kristy have a pass to reach me. The rest of the world rings on silent.

This is what I knew would happen. I told them my life was messy. I told them I came with too much baggage. But they bulldozed their way in. They made me feel safe. They made me believe I could belong to Alphas again.

And now I'm ruining them.

The sites are tearing them apart. Management will step in and penalize them for the bad press. I'm dragging down the three brightest stars in Canval.

The phone vibrates against my hip.

I pull it out. Wally's name flashes on the screen next to the picture of him. I swipe to answer and press the phone to my ear.

"Wally."

"Vayda, breathe. Are you okay? Kristy texted us as soon as she saw the leak. Kel is losing his mind in the locker room right now." Wally's voice crackles with anxiety.

"I've been better." I grip the phone tight, my voice low.

"I know you have." Wally sighs, the sound raspy through the speaker. "Listen. The front office is already tracing the leak. Just a select few knew about us. We will find out who talked. Our PR team is on the phone with the site demanding a retraction."

"They're here, Wally." I squeeze Brendan's leg.

"Who? What do you mean they're here?" Wally's voice drops, his tone turning cold.

"The reporters. There are at least fifteen of them on the porch. They parked on the grass. They're banging on the windows and shouting things about Hale and Brendan. I had to close the curtains." My chest heaves as I speak.

A low snarl rips through the speaker. A loud crash follows, like a metal trash can hitting a wall. "Lock the deadbolts. Make sure the back door is secure. We are leaving the arena right now. We are coming to stand between you and those vultures."

"No! Stay there!" I stand up, pacing the narrow strip of space between the sofa and the wall.

"We are coming. We are staying by your side." Wally's voice sounds hard and final through the speaker.

"Stay away from the house, Wally! If you pull up right now, they'll swarm the car. They'll get pictures. It'll just prove everything the article said." My voice rises with panic.

"We focus on the bond, Vayda. The League wants compatibility blood tests. Once the results come back,management has to back us. It legitimizes everything. It proves this is our bond." Wally's words come fast and firm.

"But it matters to me! You guys have careers. You have massive contracts. I'm a widow with a disabled Alpha. I'm the burden they say I am." I swipe tears from my face, my breath catching in my throat.

"Stop it. Don't let them put those words in your head." Wally's voice drops to a quiet rasp through the speaker.

"It's the truth! I told you this would happen. I told you I'd ruin your lives. Stay away, Wally. Stay at the arena. Just leave us alone before I drag you down." I hit the end button, drop the phone onto the sofa, and sink back to the floor. I bury my face in my hands.

The low, aggressive rumble of Kel's diesel engine cuts through the chanting outside.

The crowd shifts. The shouting turns from demands for my attention to a frenzy of overlapping questions.

"Kel! Kel, over here!"

"Simon, is it true?"