Page 5 of Knot Their Starlet

“That’s that girl, right?”

“Andromeda Sterling! What happened? Who did that to you!”

Run.

Every cell in my body is in agreement. Despite feeling like a newborn foal, I stumble my way down the hallway.

I seem to be running for my life no matter where I turn.

Because if the paparazzi snap photos of me like this, my life is effectively over anyway; my mom would make sure of it. If the media doesn’t crucify me, spinning this story however gets them the most clicks, she’ll put me in the ground herself for associating this kind of bad press with the family brand.

Blood drips into my eye as I continue to stumble barefoot through back hallways. Thank God my workout plan is basically all cardio.

I hear footsteps and chaos behind me, though. Closing in.

They’re following me.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, I am their prey.

Just like I was Ezra’s.

Then I see it.

A blazing red sign of salvation.

EXIT.

I shoulder past a thick metal door—the impact jolting its way up through my shoulder and into my skull.

My back presses against the cool metal of the door as I slam it behind me, my chest heaving with desperate, gasping breaths. The chilly February night air soaks into my fiery, swollen throat.

Along with something else.

Burnt caramel.

Omega.

Holy fucking shit, I’ve been around plenty of omegas. There are a lot of us in show business. But I’ve never scented one this delicious.

Blood Orange.

I stiffen as a more masculine, citrusy scent hits my nose.

Oh god, I’m not fucking alone here, am I?

It takes me a second, my vision still spinning and blurry from the blood dripping down half my face, but I see it.

Two men.

Staring at me like deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler.

Damn. I can see why.

One is on his knees in front of the larger, more muscular man.

I wipe at the blood dripping into my eye, trying to clear my blurry vision. The world is still fucking spinning.

“Holy shit, are you okay? What happened to you?” The one on his knees says.