Page 169 of Altius
“Do your worst.”
We talked for a few more minutes, during which Owen’s expression grew increasingly smug. I refused to admit howmuch I liked the idea of draining the university dry—or how reassured I felt by Owen’s ruthless encouragement.
After I hung up, I gave Owen a small smile. “Thanks for talking me off the ledge. And sorry, again, for intruding.”
“I don’t recall saying you weren’t welcome here,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. “Now come eat. We need to celebrate phase one of your revenge.”
Forty
Morgan
Apanel of three middle-aged men, all alphas as far as I could tell based on their builds and demeanors, took turns asking me softball questions from a curated list for thirty minutes. They smiled and nodded nonstop, taking a minimal amount of notes, not even bothering to glance at my CV.
My answers were polished yet impersonal. Like well-rehearsed lines on the closing night of a mediocre play. At least I was doing my part to maintain this farce of an interview. I’d even worn my fanciest outfit, my black shift dress and blazer combo.
They weren’t going through the motions to say they interviewed the difficult omega and could now add me to the top of the reject pile with a clear conscience.
Oh, no. They were afraid of me.
Of how easily I could turn the still-raging PR maelstrom about the football team’s violent finish to the season into a Category Five hurricane.
Even if I couldn’t talk about PheroPass or the pheromone bomber because of my NDA, I could still file a public complaint against the university for omega rights violations and physical assault.
University PR had done everything in its power to downplay the players’ injuries and keep what happened to Reyhan,Amir, and me a secret, while the administration pleaded and apologized to us in private, bartering to buy our silence.
But they couldn’t bury everything.
Rory sent me a screenshot whenever a new conspiracy theory popped up online. Even Jenna was alarmed enough by the news coverage to call and make sure I was all right.
Some of the rumors were tame, such as claiming every alpha on the team’s rut cycle had synchronized. Others were more damaging, like alleging the coaches physically abused the players if they didn’t get the results they wanted, or that Redwing was using them as guinea pigs for performance-enhancing drugs.
More fatty meat for Redwing’s legal team to feast on while Owen applied pressure, demanding the university turn over security footage and access logs.
It had been quite a busy week for my inner circle. Especially Quinton. He’d gone multiple rounds with the university, refusing to agree to their initial lowball offers.
I stayed out of it as much as possible, doing as Owen instructed—and taking my own advice for once—focusing on what I could control.
Which included interviewing at Garroway Forest on Tuesday. It had been a successful trip, full of spirited discussion, proving the school more than deserved its omega-friendly reputation and planting a real seed of potential in my mind.
The only downside was Kelsey insisting on chauffeuring me, given my bruised ribs and shoulder. Things were still stony between us, but at least she had fun visiting a few vintage boutiques and specialty stores during my interview. She even made a few new potential business connections for Beaufeather’s.
I might be less sore today, but this interview was turning into a real pain in the ass. Why couldn’t they wrap it up already?
The first man on the panel blanched when he reached the next question on the list.
“Um.” He glanced nervously between the paper and me a few times—including the bandages on the side of my hand—before asking in a small voice, “How do you approach aggressive patients or family members?”
The man in the middle started making stress doodles on the corner of my CV.
At the same time, the third alpha looked out the window with a peculiar tilt to his head, as if contemplating whether he could successfully hurl himself through the plate glass and escape the mortification.
I wanted to work with a group of people like Dr. Flemming and Reyhan, who had drive and passion. Not this spineless lot.
A polite smile masked my hardening resolve that I would never, ever be a permanent staff member at the University of Northport.
They could offer me the job on a silver platter and pay me ten times the market rate, and I’d still turn them down.
I deserved better.
