Page 6 of Rescued by Four Alphas (Claimed by the Four Alphas #2)

" A xl Valentine's secret harem: Inside the rock star's breeding cult."

I stare at the headline on my phone and want to throw it against the wall. The article beneath it is worse.

"Sources close to the situation reveal that Valentine shares his home with three other men, all romantically involved with Dr. Dahlia Baldwin, the geneticist who rose to fame after discovering the cure for the Crimson Plague.

Baldwin is reportedly pregnant with Valentine's child, though questions remain about paternity given the unusual living arrangement…

The photo below shows me leaving our estate with Dahlia, her small baby bump visible in the zoomed-in shot. Some paparazzi asshole must have used a telephoto lens from the woods surrounding our property.

"This is such bullshit," I mutter, scrolling through more comments.

"Shifter rockstar keeps pregnant Omega as sex slave."

"Valentine and three other men force a scientist into a bizarre breeding experiment."

"Exclusive: Inside Axl Valentine's depraved shifter sex cult."

"What kind of sick experiments are they doing in that house? #ShifterThreat"

"Always knew rock stars were pervs, but this is next level. #AxlValentineCancel"

"That poor woman is probably being held against her will. Someone should rescue her!"

"This is what happens when we let shifters live among us. Disgusting animal behavior."

"Bet the babies aren't even his. She's probably sleeping with all of them. #SlutDoctor"

Rita, our manager, paces across the studio lounge. Her heels click against the hardwood floor in a rhythm that matches my pounding headache.

"We need to address this," she says, tapping furiously on her tablet. "The longer we stay silent, the worse it gets."

"What exactly am I supposed to say?" I throw my phone onto the couch. "That I'm in love with a woman who happens to be bonded to three other men? That we're having babies together? The truth sounds crazier than their fucked-up theories."

Marcus puts a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe we should postpone the album release."

"No fucking way." I shake off his hand. "I won't let these assholes derail everything we've worked for."

Luke drops onto the couch beside me. "Have you seen Twitter? Some of your fans are defending you, at least."

He holds up his phone to show me:

"Leave Axl alone! His personal life is none of our business! #StandWithAxl"

"I don't care who he loves or how many babies he has. The music is what matters! #ExedraForever"

But for every supportive comment, there are ten hateful ones.

Derek slams his drumsticks against the table. "This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. Our comeback album drops in three weeks, and now all anyone wants to talk about is your freaky relationship."

"Watch it," I warn.

"No, you watch it." Derek stands, pointing his drumstick at me. "We've busted our asses for this album. Two years of work, and now it's all going down the drain because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants."

Rita steps between us. "That's enough, Derek."

"No, let him finish." I stand up, facing Derek across the room. "Say what you need to say."

Derek throws his hands up. "You want me to spell it out? Fine. You fucked up, Axl. You got involved with some Omega scientist who already had three other dudes, and now she's knocked up with a litter of pups. Our tour is about to start, and you'll be changing diapers instead of performing."

"I'll be there for the tour," I say through gritted teeth.

"Will you? Because from where I stand, it looks like you've chosen her over the band." Derek paces, gesturing wildly. "Do you have any idea what this is doing to our reputation? To our brand? People are canceling pre-orders. Venues are getting nervous."

Marcus steps forward. "Derek, man, calm down…"

"No, I won't calm down!" Derek slams his hand on the table. "I'm not going to watch everything we've built get destroyed because Axl couldn't resist sticking his dick in some whore."

My vision goes red. Before I know what's happening, my fist connects with Derek's jaw. He stumbles backward, knocking over a chair.

"Don't you ever talk about her again," I snarl.

Derek touches his split lip, his eyes wide with shock. "You hit me."

"And I'll do it again if you say another word about Dahlia."

Marcus grabs my arm and yanks me back. "That's enough!"

Luke jumps between us. "Both of you, cool it!"

Derek spits blood onto the floor. "Fuck you, Axl. She's turned you into a fucking animal."

I lunge for him again, but Marcus and Luke hold me back.

"I said that's ENOUGH!" Rita's voice cuts through the chaos. "Derek, go clean yourself up. Axl, sit down before I call security."

Derek glares at me, then storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Marcus pushes me onto the couch. "What the hell, man? We don't hit bandmates."

"He crossed a line," I mutter, flexing my bruised knuckles.

"Yeah, he did," Luke agrees. "But so did you."

Rita kneels in front of me, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. "Axl, listen to me. You need to go home."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." She takes my hands, forcing me to look at her. "You just punched your drummer three weeks before your album release. You're not fine. Go home. Be with Dahlia and the others. Let me handle the PR nightmare."

"What about rehearsal?" I ask.

"We'll reschedule," Marcus says. "Take a few days. We all need to cool off."

I run a hand through my hair. "And what happens then? To the album and the tour?"

Rita stands up, "First, we issue a statement. Something vague about respecting your privacy during this special time in your life. We neither confirm nor deny the pregnancy rumors."

"They're not rumors," I say. "Dahlia is pregnant."

"With your child?" Luke asks.

I hesitate. "It's complicated."

"That's exactly why we keep it vague," Rita taps something into her tablet. "The public doesn't need to know the details. What matters is protecting you, Dahlia, and your career."

The studio door opens, and Derek walks back in. His lip is swollen, and he won't look at me.

"I'm out of here," he mumbles, grabbing his jacket.

"Derek…" I start.

"Save it." He brushes past me. "I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow. If you can be bothered to show up."

The door slams behind him again.

Luke sighs. "He'll cool off. You know how he gets."

"Will he?" I ask. "Because he's not entirely wrong. This album launch is important to all of us."

"And we'll figure it out," Marcus assures me. "But Rita's right. You should go home."

Rita hands me my jacket. "The car's waiting downstairs. I've texted your security team to meet you there."

"What about the paparazzi?" I ask. "They've been camping outside the studio all week."

"We'll create a diversion," she says. "Use the service entrance. I'll text you once we have a statement drafted."

I nod, suddenly exhausted. "Fine."

Marcus walks me to the door. "Don't worry about Derek. I'll talk to him."

"Tell him if he ever speaks about Dahlia like that again, he's dead to me."

"I will." Marcus gives me a quick hug. "Give Dahlia our love."

The ride home feels twice as long as usual.

My phone keeps buzzing with notifications, but I ignore them all.

I keep the radio off, not wanting to hear what else they might be saying about us.

About her. My knuckles ache where they connected with Derek's face, but I don't regret it.

No one talks about my mate like that. No one.

"Sir," my driver says, "Mr. Blackthorn requested that you enter through the east gate. There are reporters at the main entrance."

"Of course there are," I mutter.

When I pull up to the gate of our estate, I notice extra security personnel patrolling the perimeter. Evan must have increased protection. Good. The guard recognizes me and waves the car through without stopping.

The car circles to a less visible entrance. Even here, at what's supposed to be home, I feel like I'm sneaking in.

I find everyone in the living room, eyes glued to the massive TV screen.

Onyx stands behind the couch, his arms crossed and his expression murderous.

Leo sits on one end of the sofa, his posture rigid.

Evan paces near the windows, his phone pressed to his ear.

And Dahlia sits in the middle, her hand resting protectively on her small baby bump.

"Axl," her face lights up when she sees me.

I cross to her immediately, bending down to kiss her. "Hey, beautiful."

"Your hand," She notices my bruised knuckles. "What happened?"

"Nothing important." I sit beside her, pulling her close. "What are you watching?"

"The news," Leo says grimly. "It's not good."

On screen, a serious-looking anchor is speaking; "…

allegations of a secretive shifter breeding program involving Dr. Dahlia Baldwin, the scientist credited with curing the Crimson Plague.

Sources claim Dr. Baldwin is currently pregnant with multiple fetuses in what some are calling an 'unnatural experiment. '"

The scene cuts to a government official in a gray suit, standing at a podium with the Department of Shifter Affairs seal behind him.

"The Department takes these reports very seriously," He says. "We are actively investigating anomalous breeding patterns amongst shifters, particularly those involving Omegas. If left unchecked, these reproductive anomalies could pose significant risks to public health and safety."

The camera zooms in on his stern face as he continues, "Steps must be taken to ensure that shifter reproduction is properly monitored and, if necessary, curbed."