Chapter 154: The marriage

The flashes were so bright they left purple afterimages burned into my retinas, stabbing straight behind my eyes with every blink. Microphones were practically jammed down my throat, the metal cages clicking against my teeth as reporters lunged forward, tripping over each other in a desperate, predatory scramble.

"Lorali! Are you the Second Omega of the Spade Pack?!" a greasy-looking reporter barked, shoving a bulky black mic right into my face. "Is it true your birth records list you under Alma? Why aren’t any members of the Spade Pack here to support your big debut today? Did they abandon you?!"

My teeth ground together so hard my jawbone ached. The sheer audacity of these vultures—standing there treating my life like a sideshow, dragging up my past, picking at the scabs of my childhood in an orphanage like it was public property.

Oh, you want a Spade here? You want to talk about my pack? Fine. Let’s give these miserable bastards a show.

I forced my chin up, pasted a bright, terrifyingly sweet smile on my face, and pointed a long, manicured finger straight toward the far side of the arena bleachers.

"There is a Spade pack member here to support me," I announced, my voice cutting cleanly through the din of the shouting crowd.

Every single head whipped around. Dozens of camera lenses, heavy tripods, and microphone booms instantly pivoted away from me, tracking the direction of my finger like a flock of ravenous birds.

In the far corner of the stands, sitting completely alone in the shadows of the upper rows, was Oracle. He had been quietly watching the media circus unfold, but the second every camera in the arena swung toward him, his frame went rigid. He blinked, clearly startled to suddenly find himself the center of attention, before his jaw set into a hard, brooding line.

Flashbulbs immediately began popping in the distance, illuminating his dark hair and broad shoulders as reporters scrambled to get footage of him sitting there like a brooding gargoyle.

God, thank the myself that i brought Oracle, I thought, a hysterical wave of relief crashing through my chest, mixed with a healthy dose of pure humiliation. Can you imagine how mortifying this would have been if no one was here? If I stood here completely alone while these reporters wrote articles about how the Spade Pack discarded me like trash? At least having him here gives me a shred of armor, even if I want to punch him half the time.

The wall of cameras snapped back toward me, the flashes doubling in intensity, practically blinding me with white-hot fury.

I swallowed hard, a sudden, cold knot tightening in my stomach as the heavy reality of what I had just done finally crashed down on me.

Wait... did I just officially confirm on live television that I am Lorali, the Second Omega of the Spade Pack?! my brain screamed, panic flaring behind my ribs. Did I just walk right into my own trap?!

Before I could even catch my breath to backtrack, the reporters swarmed closer, their voices bleeding together into a deafening wall of noise.

"How does it feel being a Second Omega, Lorali?!"

"Is it true you were a student of Alma"

"Do you love the Spade Pack?!" one man yelled above the rest, shoving a heavy black microphone aggressively toward my mouth. "Are you loyal to your Alpha?!"

My stomach churned. Every fiber of my being wanted to laugh directly in his smug, sweating face. I wanted to grab that microphone, lean right into the lens, and drag the Spade Pack through the absolute filth. I wanted to tell the world about their toxicity, their madness and the miserable way they expected me to live in. I wanted to burn their pristine reputation to ash right here, right now.

But I can’t, my inner voice hissed, locking my jaw tight. If I talk trash about the pack on live media, it would blow up on me not them.

My eyes drifted away from the sea of flashing lights, scanning across the perimeter of the media zone until they landed on a familiar figure sitting near the athlete exit.

Zetana.

She was slouched lazily in a folding chair, her long legs stretched out in front of her, resting one boot casually on the seat of the adjacent chair. She wasn’t even looking at the reporters or the cameras. She was casually scrolling through her phone, completely bored by the entire spectacle, looking like an absolute queen who had already won the war while the rest of us were playing in the dirt.

I dragged my gaze back to the reporter holding the mic inches from my nose. I forced the brightest, most nauseatingly sweet smile onto my lips, turning on all the high-society charm I had spent years perfecting.

"Of course I love the Spade Pack," I trilled, my voice carrying a sickeningly cheerful, melodic tone that made my own skin crawl. "We are fated by the Goddess, bound by sacred ties, and we couldn’t be happier!"

The reporters paused for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by the sudden shift in my tone.

Then, another reporter pushed forward, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "If that’s true, why isn’t there a ring on your finger? There hasn’t been a single public announcement about any wedding taking place between you and the pack!"

Oh, for the love of— my mind shrieked, a hot spike of rage piercing my brain. Are these people ever going to shut the hell up?! Why are they interrogating my love life like I’m running for public office?!

Beneath my forced smile, my teeth were grinding together so hard I thought they might shatter.

"Well, that’s simply because it’s still being planned," I lied smoothly, batting my eyelashes with sickening innocence. "My pack loves me so much that they are planning the biggest, grandest, most extravagant wedding you’ve ever seen. It takes time to curate perfection, darling."

"Alright, that’s enough!" Scarlett suddenly shoved her way through the barrier, stepping right between me and the microphones, throwing her arms out to block the cameras. "Interview’s over! She just finished competing, she needs to go celebrate with her pack! Move aside, please!"

"Just one more question about the orphanage records—!"

"Move!" Scarlett barked, grabbing my arm and yanking me hard behind her.

She carved a path through the wall of reporters, dragging me away from the flashing lights and out toward the heavy metal exit doors. The moment the steel doors swung shut behind us, cutting off the deafening roar of the arena, the cool, quiet air of the underground exit corridor hit my face.

I sucked in a deep, shaking breath of fresh air, my shoulders slumping as the overwhelming tension drained out of my muscles.

"I am going to murder every single one of those journalists," I muttered darkly, walking down the concrete hallway while kicking viciously at a stray piece of plastic wrapping on the floor. "I swear to the Goddess, I’m going to hire someone to slash their tire tracks—"

"I honestly expected you to look a bit happier after winning a podium spot... and announcing your grand wedding, of course."

I froze.

The low, melodic voice echoed off the concrete walls behind me, warm and entirely unexpected.

I spun around on my heel, my eyes widening in pure surprise.

Standing near the corner of the corridor, leaning casually against a concrete pillar with his hands tucked into the pockets of a tailored charcoal coat, was Erin.

Erin?! What on earth is he doing here?

"Erin?" I blurted out, taking a few steps toward him, my jaw slightly slack. "What... what are you doing here? How did you even find me?!"

Erin pushed off the pillar, flashing that familiar, charming smile that always seemed a little too bright for whatever room he was standing in. He stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with genuine amusement.

"I couldn’t miss your big day, could I?" Erin chuckled softly, closing the distance between us.

I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head as I narrowed my eyes at him. "Be serious. How do you even know I was competing today? Even my own pack didn’t know about this competition!"

Erin laughed, running a hand through his neatly styled hair.

"I am a sponsor for the event, hence I’m here."

A sudden, genuine laugh escaped my throat, breaking the dark tension that had been gripping my chest all afternoon.

"Are you kidding me?" I shook my head, a real smile finally touching my lips. "Of all the massive coincidences in the world... what are the odds of that?"

"Astronomical," Erin agreed, his smile softening as he stopped right in front of me. He looked me up and down, his gaze warm and validating. "Seriously though, Lorali... congratulations. Getting on the podium against skaters like Zetana is no small feat. You were incredible out there."

"Thank you," I murmured, the tension finally melting out of my shoulders. It felt nice, refreshing, even, to hear someone other then scarlet actually acknowledge my athletic performance instead of treating me like a piece of pack property or a scandal headline. "Though, let’s be real... second place still burns. I didn’t come here to watch someone else take gold."

"Hunger is what makes you dangerous," Erin noted smoothly, his eyes twinkling. "And congratulations on the wedding announcement, too. Must be thrilling to know your pack is planning such a grand celebration."

I let out a harsh, dry snort, rolling my eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck.

"Oh, please," I muttered, lowering my voice as I glanced down the empty hallway. "I’m not actually getting married, Erin. I would rather swallow a handful of burning coals and throw myself off a cliff than marry into the Spade Pack. I literally just made all of that up on the spot to get those rabid reporters off my back!"

Erin let out a low, rich chuckle, shaking his head. "Ah. I low-key respect that."

I let out a heavy sigh as I leaned back against the concrete wall next to him.