Page 3 of Wicked Truths

I’m not willing to risk the label backing out at the last minute if they find out I’m an omega. Once I’m signed, it would be illegal for them to punish me for my designation, but the truth is, omegas are often passed over for jobs.

“You know you can change your mind at any time, right?” Hawk asks, leaning close. My breath catches as he runs the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “I know you have dreams and goals, but if those ever aren’t serving you in the way you hoped…” He sighs, shaking his head. “Just remember, no one holds you to as high of a standard as you hold yourself.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I think it’s going to be great.” I smile at Hawk as we finally reach our floor.

He nods, taking a step back.

Fake it until you make it, right?

ChapterOne

A Month Later

Oakley

The penthouse is huge. We’ve been here for a while, and I still haven’t adjusted to it yet. Roaming the halls and not running into anyone is kind of intimidating.

Who would want to live like this?

I grew up on a cattle farm. Our house always had someone coming in and out. That’s just how it’s always been. I haven’t been home in almost a year, but I know from past experience it’s still the same. The ranch hands are still going in twice a day for meals. The foreman will be popping in at random times to tell my father about a fence that’s down, which herd is sick, or what momma is calving.

My eyes dance over the contents of the refrigerator. You can tell I live with a bunch of bachelors. There’s nothing worth considering. The few take-out containers are days old, then we have soda, a few bottles of beer, and condiments.

I shut the door and meander down to the other side of the penthouse. There are two distinct halves. In the middle there’s the kitchen, the laundry room, and a giant living room. The hallway on the left has a couple of large bedrooms and the one on the right has smaller guest rooms, a gym, and a music room—the fancy space with instruments lining the walls is on the far end, away from everything else. I’m guessing it’s to help keep sound from bleeding over into the bedrooms, but it’s also got some killer insulation.

I peek my head through the gym door on the way by. Sullivan is on the treadmill. His back is to me as he watches the TV hanging in the corner. The tight white T-shirt is stretched to capacity over his back. It’s stuck to him with sweat, and it’s clear he’s been putting in work recently.

The drums are a decent workout in and of themselves, but since we’ve been in the penthouse, Sullivan has been hitting the gym with Hawk.

I glance around, expecting to see Hawkins somewhere, but my giant security guy is nowhere to be found. It’s weird because before we moved in here, he was around all the time, but the last few weeks, if he’s not on shift then he’s missing.

My gaze migrates back to Sulli. His forearms, deltoids, and triceps have always been ripped from the daily practices, but his lats and traps are a lot more defined now that he’s bulking up.

It takes way too long to realize I’mstillcreeping on my best friend like a total weirdo. I wish I knew how to go back to the way things were before I started to see him in a different light.

The faint sound of someone in the music room catches my attention.

I focus on that instead of the mess my relationship has become with Sullivan. I push off the doorway to the gym and aim for the sound. The double doors are closed, but I barely push open one side.

My jaw falls.

Marcus is rocking the hell out of “I’d Rather See Your Star Explode” by Slaves. The track plays in the background, but he’s not playing bass. He’s absolutely slaying lead guitarandsinging the fuck out of the song.

I had no idea he played guitar, but I guess it makes sense.

A lot of guitarists move to bass when there’s a need for the position, but not many of them stick because they can’t tell an eighth note from a quarter. That, or they dislike fading into the background.

Marcus bounces around, rocking out. He hits the high notes like he should’ve been a frontman foryears.

Why is he considered backup vocals?

Marcus never should have been backing up Reba Sparks in their last band. I’ve heard her sing. She’s okay, or she was before that cluster of a situation with Marcus’s sister.

Goosebumps erupt on my arms. The level of emotion he’s able to bring across isunreal. I’m pretty sure Jamen needs to get him his own backup band and put him at center stage. He could be a solo artist with no problem.

I’m still blinking in total shock when the song changes. It’s a totally different beat and speed, but Marcus slides into the song like he belongs there. It takes me a full verse to realize it’s “Into the Dark” by Point North.

I’ve heard the song before. There are two different tones during the verses, but Marcus manages both with the type of skill musicians spend their entireliveshoning.

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