Chapter 67
The Beta’s grip is a fucking vice.
His fingers dig into my arm as he drags me forward. I stumble over the polished stone floors. The moment the heavy iron gates slam shut behind us, I know I’ve made a mistake.
Not because I regret coming here.
Not because I’m scared.
But because I wasn’t ready to see him.
“You’re Taryn, aren’t you?” He asks as we pass through guards after guards who keep glancing at me with confusion. Great, they probably are all stuck up on how the desperate, crazy woman banging on the gates has now entered.
“Yes, did he tell you that too?” I answer, gritting my teeth. “No, he’s way too stubborn for that. Jacob. Beta Jacob. Might as well you know if we keep seeing each other like this.” He replies and I roll my eyes.
“You have a death wish, don’t you?” Jacob mutters, yanking me forward as if I’m some unruly prisoner.
“If that’s what it takes to see him,” I snap, jerking my arm free. My skin burns where he touched me, but I don’t rub it. I won give him the satisfaction.
I can feel the eyes on me. Guards lined up along the entrance hall. Their postures are tense.
They’ve probably never seen anyone this fucking stupid before–an Omega demanding entry to the Imperial Pack’s stronghold as though I have a goddamn right to be here. Like I belong.
Too late now.
A slow yet loud click of heels echoes against the marble floor. The sound slithers down my spine like a warning before I even turn to look.
It’s that bitch.
Lady Celeste Vaelor.
She steps forward with the kind of confidence only a woman born into power can wield–her sleek black dress clinging to her curves, her blonde hair cascading down in carefully arranged waves. The picture of perfection.
And the expression of pure, unfiltered disgust she’s directing at me?
Yeah. That makes it even better.
“You really have no shame, do you?” she sneers, lips curling like I’m something rotten that’s just washed up at her feet.
I smirk, my adrenaline still riding high from my dramatic entrance. “I could say the same about you. You almost ran me
over.”
Celeste scoffs, looking me up and down with an unimpressed flick of her eyes. “Pests tend to throw themselves into places they don’t belong.”
I take a step closer. Not threatening, not obvious. Just enough to push into her space, to make her feel what I already know— she doesn’t intimidate me. “And yet, here I am,” I murmur. “Inside, Looks like your Alpha King wants me here.”
Her nostrils flare. Just a little. But I catch it.
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“Oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, voice laced with the kind of faux sympathy that makes me want to punch her right in her perfect fucking teeth. “Enoch doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
I arch a brow. “Right. Because he sent his Beta to drag me in?” I tilt my head, studying her. “That tells me all I need to kno
Her smirk vanishes. And then, before I can blink, her hand slices through the air.
The slap lands hard across my cheek. A sharp, stinging burn that blooms across my skin.
A gasp ripples through the guards.
I barely fucking flinch.
Instead, I tilt my head back, slowly dragging my gaze back to hers as I smile. A slow, taunting curve of my lips. “That’s all you’ve got?”
Her pupils dilate. Just for a second.
She expected me to crumble.
She thought that, because I’m an Omega, I’d do what I’ve been taught to do my entire life–drop my gaze, submit, fucking
cower.
She doesn’t realize I’ve had worse.
“You’re pathetic,” she hisses, her voice trembling with rage. “A desperate little girl chasing after a man way out of your league.”
I don’t hesitate
I shove her. Hard.
Celeste stumbles back, her hands flailing for balance. Shock splashes across her face, quickly twisting into pure fury.
The guards move.
But so do I.
And I’m not fucking done.
Jacob’s grip on my waist is firm, yanking me back before I can shove Celeste harder. I’m still buzzing with adrenaline, my hands clenched so tight my nails threaten to break skin. The urge to lunge again is right there, sitting on the tip of my tongue like a dare. But Jacob is solid, unmoving, his presence a steel wall between me and my very punchable problem.
“Enough,” he grits out, voice low and edged with warning. The kind that means he’s one second away from tossing me over his damn shoulder and hauling me out like an unruly drunk. “Unless you both want to be thrown out.”
Celeste exhales sharply, smoothing down the fabric of her stupidly elegant gown like I somehow wrinkled it by existing. “She started it.”
Oh, fuck off.
Jacob doesn’t even glance at her. Instead, he leans in, close enough that his breath fans against my ear, voice dropping. “If you don’t want this to end here, shut up and follow me.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
He doesn’t elaborate, He just turns, expecting me to obey.. Celeste watches with narrowed eyes, seething as Jacob grips my wrist and drags me away again, deeper into the palace grounds. My feet stumble at first, but I keep up, my pulse still a
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Chapter 67
chaotic drumbeat in my chest.
Celeste’s glare burns into my back, but she doesn’t follow.
This isn’t over.
I know it.
She knows it.
And that, right there, is the problem.
VJacob doesn’t speak as we move past the grand entrance and into the corridors, his pace quick and his grip tight. I take in my
surroundings as best I can–tall arched ceilings, dark stone walls that seem to stretch on endlessly, guards posted at nearly every turn. It’s colder here and the air is thicker.
I shouldn’t be here.
And yet, I can’t bring myself to care.
Not when every instinct is screaming at me to keep going. Not when something in my gut tells me I’m close–so fucking close–to what I came here for.
Then, just as Jacob pulls me toward a side hallway, a door creaks open nearby.
I glance toward the sound, breath catching, and-
My pulse stops.
A figure moves past the open doorway. Tall. Broad shoulders. The kind of presence that demands attention, even in the dim light.
I know that presence.
I’ve memorized it.
My entire body locks up, my heartbeat slamming into my ribs so violently I swear something cracks.
Enoch.
I don’t even think. I just move.
I jerk forward, but Jacob is faster, stepping in front of me and blocking my view entirely.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Go home, Taryn,” he mutters, final.
My throat, is tight, a thousand words fighting to claw their way out. “Let me see him.”
“Not today.”
Jacob doesn’t budge. He doesn’t blink. Hell, he doesn’t even flinch when I glare at him as if I could set him on fire with my
mind.
I could push past him. I could keep going and demand answers, raise hell if I have to.
But the door is already closing.
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And Enoch–if it was him-
Is already gone.
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The newspaper lands on my desk with a deafening slap.
“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!”
Liam’s voice booms through the office, yanking every pair of eyes in our direction. I don’t even flinch. At this point, my nervous system has adapted to his constant state of pissed–off.
I glance at the front page. ‘Omega Causes Royal Scandal at Imperial Gates – Who Is She?‘ Right under it, a high–resolution photo of me in mid–scream, looking like I belong in a psych ward. Perfect.
I exhale. “To be fair, I was only half–screaming.”
Liam pinches the bridge of his nose so hard I think he might crush it. “You caused an international incident,” he growls, eyes sharp enough to skin me alive. “Again” he emphasizes.
Shit, this is twice now. I really should rethink my
decisions.
“You dragged this company into a political shitstorm, and for what? To be publicly humiliated by the palace guards? To get fucking tackled on live television?”
“I got closer than anyone else has.”
His eyes flash. “You got fucking tackled, Taryn. I don’t know what’s worse–the fact that you’re proud of it or that you think this is some kind of victory.”
I lean back, crossing my arms. “I have every idea how reckless I’m being, thanks.”
Liam scoffs, pacing in front of my desk like a caged wolf. “You really don’t, Sinclair. Do you know what happens when you piss off people in power?” He levels me with a look, voice low and cutting. “They don’t throw tantrums. They erase you.”
A strange silence falls between us.
His jaw flexes, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. For a second, I swear he looks almost–worried? No. That’s impossible.
“You’re lucky I have damage control ready,” he mutters, shoving a thick folder onto my desk. “But I swear to god, Sinclair, pull this shit again, and I won’t be able to save you.”
I roll my eyes. “Appreciate the concern, boss, really.”
“Not concern. Just don’t want to deal with the paperwork when you go missing.”
And with that, he storms off.
***
“Are you out of your mind?”
Okay, that’s twice now.
I don’t even bother looking up from my coffee as Zoe slides into her seat across from me, her face twisted in full–blown disapproval.
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“Wow. No ‘hi, bestie?‘ No ‘how was your morning, Taryn?“” I sip my coffee. “Rude.”
Zoe smacks a newspaper on the table. The same one Liam threw at me earlier.
I sigh. “Okay, seriously? Is everyone in this office carrying a copy of my humiliation?”
Zoe ignores me. “What the hell were you thinking? You’re on every major news channel. Twitter is calling you ‘the Screaming Omega.”
“Better than ‘Tragic Omega,” I mutter.
She leans in, lowering her voice. “Be honest. Are you doing this for the story or-” she hesitates, eyes searching mine, “-or are you just chasing him?”
My stomach knots.
Enoch. The reason I left everything behind. The reason I clawed my way into this career. The reason I stood at those gates screaming for one look at him. And he ignored me.
I force out a laugh. “Zoe, please. I wouldn’t go full mental breakdown for a man.”
Her face softens. “Taryn-”
I shake my head. “Drop it.”
She doesn’t. But she does reach for my hand, squeezing it lightly. “Just… don’t get yourself killed, okay?”
I give a half–smile. “No promises.” I take her hand in mind, “– I’m sorry for snapping at you last time. I–I was too overwhelmed.“look down. She puts her hand over mine.
“I knew you’re reckless the moment I laid eyes on you.” She smiles.
The knock at my apartment door comes late that night.
I open it to find a courier standing there, holding an elegant black box. “Delivery for Miss Sinclair.”
My brows furrow. I didn’t order anything. “From who?”
“No sender,” he says, handing it over before walking off.
I shut the door, placing the box on my kitchen counter. The second I lift the lid, my pulse stutters.
Inside is an ornate mask, black and gold, the design so intricate it looks like it was forged for royalty. It matches the gown we fitted in perfectly.
A card rests on top.
Imperial Masquerade Ball – Exclusive Invitation.
I grip the edge of the counter, my breath catching. Liam mentioned the paper was granted exclusive access to cover the ball. It’s going to be in a few days as he said.
This is it. My way in.
I pick up the mask, staring at the reflection in the kitchen window.
My heart pounds.
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This is my chance to get to him.
And this time, he won’t be able to ignore me.
