Page 130 of Roulette Rodeo
We're not necessarily worried—we have Red now, and she seems content enough. The scent match with Shiloh alone would satisfy most requirements.But it doesn't mean we're off the hook entirely. There's paperwork, medical exams, probably interviews. The government loves its bureaucracy.
"It's sending everyone into a frenzy," Poppy says around a mouthful of pie, somehow making even that look elegant. "Especially because it includes business owners and any establishments that heavily benefit from exploiting omegas."
That gets everyone's attention.
Even Red pauses mid-bite, though she's already demolished half her pie in the time it's taken Poppy to eat two bites.
"Elaborate," Corwin says, his medical mind already categorizing information.
Poppy bobs her head enthusiastically, making her victory rolls bounce.
"I just came back from Vegas this morning. Quick flight to investigate the Strip, and honey, it is chaos. This isn't a joke or stunt—government law enforcement is already locking owners out of their businesses until they can establish an omega in their pack that's legit."
I watch Red's face at the mention of Vegas. She's already finished her first pie—when did that happen?—and is staring at the empty plate with genuine sadness. Like someone just told her Christmas was canceled.
The pout she's sporting is so fucking cute I can't help myself.
I slide my untouched pie across to her, trying to be subtle about it.
The way her face transforms—from tragedy to pure joy in half a second—makes my chest do something stupid. She beams at me with such genuine happiness over a simple dessert that I want to buy her every pie in Montana.
Then her attention shifts back to Poppy, and there's something careful in her expression.
"What about the entertainment industries? You know, the ones that thrive off... uh, dancers, performers, circuses?"
She's thinking about the Crimson Roulette. About Marnay. Not in a concerned way—there's no fondness there—but more calculating. Wondering if her past is about to come knocking.
"Oh, they're fucked," Poppy says cheerfully. "Getting shut down completely until those owners can prove they have an omega. And they have even stricter rules apparently—has to be a genuine pack bond, not just some paper arrangement. The omega has to live with them, share their space, be part of their actual life."
She pauses dramatically, fork poised in the air.
"But I haven't gathered all the tea there yet. My sources in Vegas are being surprisingly tight-lipped. Almost like someone powerful is very interested in keeping certain information contained."
The table goes quiet, everyone processing the implications. Red's already halfway through my pie, apparently having decided stress-eating is a valid response to legal complications.
Poppy claps her hands suddenly, making everyone jump.
"Now! I need an official introduction because seeing as you guys obviously have an omega in your midst and didn't know about the rule update means she's here willingly!"
She points her fork at me accusingly.
"Also noted that Talon shared his dessert, which he never does because he has a big-ass sweet tooth. Sweeter than Rafe's, obviously."
"I don't even like sweets," Rafe protests, which is such a blatant lie that everyone at the table turns to stare at him.
"Sure," Poppy drawls, rolling her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out. "That's why you have a hidden stash of those fancy Swiss chocolates in your office. The ones you think no one knows about."
Rafe's face does something complicated—part outrage, part embarrassment, part murderous intent—but before he can respond, Red speaks up.
"I'm Red," she says, licking lemon filling off her fork in a way that's definitely not intentional but is definitely doing things to my blood pressure. "I just came from Nevada as a... uh... kickboxing... dancer... in the circus."
The delivery is so hilariously bad that I can't help but smirk at her.
She catches my look and shrugs, completely unrepentant.
"Hey, you guys paid good money to see me perform my kickboxing number."
Poppy squeals so loud that Duke looks over from behind the counter with concern.
