Page 122 of Sweetheart: Part One

“Come on, just one?” I asked, as he scrolled a little. Vex was even in the habit of taking a night time selfie if she liked my band top, so Rookhadto have some.

“One what?”

“One selfie of you and her? She’s so fucking cute.” I’d scrolled through mine so much already, and I did wonder how she was with my brothers. Her time with us was so separate.

Rook was scanning my photos intently, though, and for a moment I swear I felt a little flash of jealousy through the bond. It was so brief, I might have imagined it though. Finally, he held the phone back to me.

“Nah mate,” he grinned. “Mine aren’t ones I’ll show around without asking her first.”

My lips parted at the implication behind that and I snatched my phone back.

I barely had a moment to consider my own insecurities before an announcement on the interview caught my attention.

I looked up at what Dean Trance was saying. Love had straightened, eyes now fixed on the screen as we both took in what was happening before us.

“Uh…”What was going on?But Love and Rook were clearly as blindsided as I was. “No fucking way would Ebony do that without asking first.”

THIRTY-TWO

VEX

Watching an Evening Stars interview from within the studio was a crazy experience.

Beyond the stage was a live audience and band which I could see from the wings. There were huge pieces of camera equipment, empty coffee cups on messy tables, and people buzzing around like restless ants.

Ebony had been out there for a while, his time split with a commercial break. He was the image I knew from the media: quick-witted, charming, and kind.

A man that didn’t exist.

“We need more work done with gold packs, Dean,” Ebony was saying right now. “That’s just the truth. New Oxford sees far too many deaths a year from omegas self administering heat drugs. Ninety-nine per cent of those are gold pack omegas.

“My job is to make people aware of the free resources. Aura Health has set up clinics across the city. They treat heat, no questions asked, no registration needed, no paper trail. It’s safe. Not enough people know about it.”

“And what would you say to the critics?” Dean asked. “That gold packs choose what they are? Why should we give them more resources?”

“It’s an easy narrative to spin,” Ebony said with a shrug. “But it’s never that simple, is it? We don’t have the stats, but weknowsome are coerced, prevented from reaching the injection. I’m sure you saw the Dirt with Dash episode? That poor girl was forced. The truth is, we don’t know enough, and none of it justifies leaving them to die alone.”

I shivered, watching the screen, my chest suddenly tight.

“I’m a poster child for this—literally,” Ebony said. “I mean, everyone knows…” He paused, cocky posture vanishing for something much more vulnerable. “My dadwasa gold pack. I never knew him. He could be one of those statistics.”

“Thanks so much for speaking about this, Ebony. Really brave of you.”

I leaned against the pillar at my back, folding my arms, a lump in my throat as Dean rattled off hotlines and websites for Aura Health donations.

I’d heard this speech before. He’d delivered it over and over.

Aura Health clinics were not a be-all-end-all solution for gold packs, but once upon a time, watching Ebony Starless look at the camera and speak to me—tomypain—it was like being seen. Wanted.

Not so alone.

Now, hearing it, knowing it was a lie, made me feel more isolated than ever.

He didn’t care about gold packs at all.

The interview went on, but my attention had drifted.

Eventually, someone approached, and the bright, hazel eyes and mouse-brown curls were familiar. Evening Stars had been one of my comfort shows to watch in lonely nights with Aisha, and I recognised Jay Salazar as one of the omega co-hosts.

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