Page 38 of Two For the Show (Trapped On The Tightrope Duet #2)

I lean closer to the mirror in my bathroom as I line my lips with the dark red pencil. Jude watches my reflection from the bed.

“So, he’s here, then?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about him. All you need to concern yourself with is the show tonight.”

A few weeks ago, Jude contacted Warner Bradley, the Designation Director of California, where the circus is incorporated.

The Director, a progressive Omega who has been described as incredibly fair, was ready to send a crew to collect me as soon as Jude mentioned my name.

But after several long video calls where I insisted in many different ways that I was okay, going as far as showing him the bond marks on the guys, he accepted that I was here of my own volition.

We know it’s going to be an uphill battle to get my pack status with Rich and the guys revoked, especially with Tripp’s dad as governor.

Warner doesn’t have any pull in Florida at all, but we think if we can get him to recognize us as a formalized, scent matched pack in the state of California, we can utilize that and the abuse to break me free of pack Smith. Finally.

Maybe it won’t work.

Maybe I should just come forward with the abuse and report them to the cops. But I worry that Tripp’s dad could squash that quietly, and we wouldn’t have anyone in our corner, helping fight for justice.

If we can get Warner Bradley on our side, and by extension, the state of California, we should be able to take down Rich, Greg, and Tripp, and the governor won’t be able to save them.

“And you think this is the way to show Bradley that we’re a good pack together?” I ask skeptically.

Jude shrugs and grunts a little. “I mean, this is a way for us to document it and get our story out there. It’s going to be recorded and make its way online.

You will get to control the narrative. With the whole country convinced you’re a kidnapped, endangered Omega, showing them that you’re safe, healthy, and happy here, combined with Bradley’s support, should tip the scales in our favor. ”

“He doesn’t need to see me in the show to prove that we’re scent matches, though.” I pull on the stockings Dario picked out for me. Neon yellow fishnets to match the ugly ass ringmaster hat. “Why can’t we register online or whatever?”

“Because California has access to Florida’s records, and they won’t let you register in two separate packs.

Plus, the scent match verification has to take place in person here.

Giving the guy a pair of tickets and asking him to come see us in action, to see that you’ve chosen this life, seems like killing two birds with one stone. ”

I slip on the tiny black sequined shorts that are only possible to wear because, even though it’s December, it’s still sixty degrees in southern California, and we’ll be in the tent, anyway. My stomach twists with anxiety.

“We have to make a performance of it, huh?”

He stands up and wraps his arms around my waist. “They’ve been performing for the media for almost six months. It’s your turn. After tonight, no one will think you’re a kidnapped Omega. They’re going to see that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

I pace in front of the tent, wringing my hands.

I can hear the buzz of the crowd as they settle into their seats, and I can hardly focus, knowing Warner Bradley is there, ready to meet us after the show and formalize us as a pack.

Once he does that, and footage of tonight’s event gets out on the internet, the real fight begins.

It’s going to be an uphill battle to take down Greg, Tripp, and Rich, and to get the state of Florida to dissolve our pack. Changing the narrative that they have pushed in the media for six months, that I’m sick and in danger, will be tough.

Could someone suffering from Foresaken Omega Syndrome perform in a circus?

Would someone who was kidnapped put her trust in the men who did it?

Arms wrap around me from behind, and the chocolate-dipped apple scent of Dario relaxes my shoulders. “You look hot, Omega,” he purrs in my ear before playfully biting my neck. “How about we blow this off and you wrap those pretty thighs around my ears again?”

I whine, feeling the rush of slick at Dario’s dirty words. We still haven’t fucked, and it’s killing me. Being off the suppressants around these boys is hazardous to my health because I want to do nothing more than fall into bed with all of them, all the time.

“Don’t even try it, dude,” Dexter says, turning the corner. “It’s her big day. Her debut.”

Things were a little awkward between me and Dexter for a minute after he rejected me when he came out of his nightmare, but we recovered quickly. Since then, our number of casual touches has increased, and I feel closer to him than ever before.

I think it’s only a matter of time before we bond. I’m ready now, but I want him to be sure he is, too, so I’m going to wait for him to ask me.

He leans down and kisses me on the temple before wrenching his twin away from me. “It’s almost time for the show to start. We need to go get painted.”

Jude comes out of the dress tent, looking delicious in a pair of black cargo pants and a black and neon yellow plaid shirt. We’ve all got elements of the color in our outfits tonight, a visual symbol that we’re a pack.

Why Dario picked yellow, I’ll never know. Maybe it’s because it’s the easiest color to get glow-in-the-dark body paint in.

“Damn, bossman,” Dario coos. “You look delicious.”

The showrunner’s face turns red as Dario raises himself to his toes and plants a kiss smack on his lips. I struggle to hide my laughter at Jude’s stricken expression.

“Get out of here, Dario,” Jude chastises. “You’re distracting Alex, and we need to be on our A-game.”

Dario hums and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Heard. But don’t forget the line I gave you.”

“I’m not saying that.”

I look between the two of them. “Saying what? ”

“Nothing,” Jude says, waving his hand at Dario. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not going to say it.”

Dario leans over and stage whispers to me, “He will say it. Because he liiiiiiikes me.”

“Get out of here!” Dexter snags Dario by the arm at Jude’s words and drags his cackling brother into the makeup tent.

I can feel Jude’s embarrassment and nerves down the bond, and I slide next to him, intertwining our fingers. “No need to be nervous, Alpha. We’ve got this.”

He nods. “I know. But this is going to make it real, Alex. We’ve been hiding you away while the country wonders where you are and mourns for you. We’re going to blow all of that up as soon as you step into the ring.”

I’ve thought about that, too. Rich hasn’t tried to get into the circus again, but he has increased his media presence, going so far as to offer a reward for my safe return.

Even Tripp’s dad has gotten in on it, declaring that even one Omega missing is too many, and he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure my return.

“I need to do this,” I tell my Prime Alpha. “This is me taking my power back. And showing Frankie fucking Adams that even though she got picked to be the magician’s assistant in high school, I’m the fucking ringmaster.”

He laughs loudly, pulling me to his chest and capturing my lips in a kiss. “Did you know she did an interview about you? About how you were friends in high school, and it was so sad that you were missing?”

“She didn’t!” I exclaim. “We were not friends. Especially not after she stole my role.”

The lights drop low, Edmund’s cue that it’s time to begin, and Jude squeezes my hand. “Wait for me to introduce you. Just do what we practiced. No big deal. It’s just us, okay? ”

I watch him walk into the ring, my heart beating out of my chest.

I can do this.

My pack won’t let me fail.

Jude’s voice rings out loudly from the speaker system.

“Welcome to Cirque de Mordu. The circus with a bite.”