Chapter 75 MEDIA STORM

Chapter 75 MEDIA STORM
(Aria's POV)

Microphones hit me first.

“Miss Winters! Over here—”

“Aria! Is it true you’re carrying the alpha’s child?”

“Look this way—just one photo—”

The lights were blinding. Cameras flashed nonstop, voices overlapping, bodies pressing too close. I froze for half a second, heart slamming, instinct screaming to run—but there was nowhere to go. Not with guards blocking exits. Not with half the pack watching.

A microphone shoved inches from my mouth. “Miss Winters, what exactly is your relationship with Alpha Blackwood?”

I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. “I’m a pack member under his protection.”

“Protection?” another reporter cut in, leaning closer. “Is that what you call it?”

Flash.

Flash.

Flash.

My eyes burned, but I didn’t look away. “That’s exactly what I call it.”

A woman with a press badge pushed forward, her tone sharper. “Then explain the pregnancy. Is the alpha the father?”

The question landed like a slap. Around us, murmurs spread fast, wolves whispering, watching, judging.

I lifted my chin. “No comment.”

“Why not?” the same reporter pressed. “If there’s nothing to hide—”

“There’s plenty to hide,” another voice jumped in. “Sources say you’re a rogue who seduced your way into the pack.”

My jaw tightened. “I’m not a rogue. I was born in Silverpine.”

“Yet you left,” he shot back instantly. “And returned pregnant. Convenient timing, don’t you think?”

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd.

My hands curled at my sides. “Believe whatever story you’ve already written.”

“Oh, we will,” the woman said, smiling thinly. “But our readers like details. Did you plan this? Target the alpha? Secure your position?”

I let out a short breath, shaking my head. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”

“Then give us the right ones,” someone called from behind a camera.

Flash.

Flash.

My vision blurred for a second. Not from tears—I refused—but from the sheer intensity of it. They weren’t here to listen. They were here to tear me apart.

Another mic shoved forward. “Is it true Lady Vivienne is the alpha’s intended mate? How do you fit into that arrangement?”

“I don’t,” I said flatly.

“Yet you’re here. At her gala.”

“Invited,” I replied.

“Or tolerated?” someone muttered loudly enough for the cameras to catch.

A few wolves laughed again.

My chest tightened, but I kept my face still. “You’re done?”

“Not even close,” the first reporter said, stepping closer. “One more question. Are you planning to claim the child publicly? Or will you disappear once the scandal becomes too much?”

That one hit deeper than I expected.

For a second, I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My hand moved to my belly without thinking, fingers pressing lightly as the baby shifted, restless under the noise, the tension.

The cameras zoomed in.

“There it is,” someone said. “Maternal instinct.”

“Or manipulation,” another added.

I dropped my hand slowly. “You’re disgusting.”

“Careful,” the woman warned, voice almost amused. “Public perception matters.”

“Not when it’s built on lies.”

“Then tell us the truth,” she challenged. “Is Alpha Blackwood the father?”

Silence fell for half a beat.

Even the flashes paused, waiting.

I looked straight into the nearest lens. “No comment.”

The crowd erupted again.

“Why won’t you deny it?”

“Because it’s true, isn’t it?”

“She’s protecting him—”

“Or trapping him—”

“Which is it, Miss Winters?”

The noise built, voices piling on top of each other, questions turning sharper, uglier. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning them out.

They already decided who I was.

Rogue.

Seductress.

Mistress.

Nothing I said would change it.

Across the room, I caught sight of Caden.

He stood near Vivienne, her hand resting on his chest, both of them framed perfectly under soft lights. The image was flawless—alpha and future luna, composed, untouchable. Cameras flashed in their direction too, capturing the contrast.

Then his gaze shifted.

Locked on me.

For a second, everything else faded—the noise, the lights, the whispers. Just that look.

He moved.

“Excuse me—Alpha—”

“Caden, they’re asking about the rogue—”

“Alpha Blackwood, your statement—”

He didn’t slow down. Pushed straight through them, his presence forcing space where there wasn’t any.

“Enough.”

The word cut through the noise like a blade.

The reporters hesitated, just for a second.

He stepped in front of me, blocking most of the cameras. “She’s pregnant and exhausted. No more questions.”

“Alpha, with respect—” someone started.

“I wasn’t asking,” he said, voice dropping low, dangerous. “Back off.”

Silence snapped into place, tense and sharp.

He reached for my arm, fingers closing around it—not rough, but firm enough to pull me out of the center. “You’re done here.”

I didn’t argue.

Couldn’t.

He guided me through the crowd, bodies parting as we moved, cameras still flashing behind us, voices calling out—

“Alpha, is it your child?”

“Are you confirming the rumors?”

“Lady Vivienne, how do you respond—”

I didn’t look back.

Not at them.

Not at the wolves whispering.

Not at the photographers capturing every second.

We reached the edge of the ballroom, near one of the side corridors. The noise dulled slightly.

He stopped, finally letting go of my arm.

“You okay?” he asked, voice lower now, less sharp.

I let out a short laugh. “Do I look okay?”

His jaw tightened. “They shouldn’t have been allowed that close.”

“But they were,” I said. “Because this was planned.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

Of course he didn’t.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. The damage is done.”

“It’s just media,” he said, though it sounded like he didn’t fully believe it. “It’ll pass.”

“No,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes. “It won’t. They’ve already decided who I am. This just gives them proof.”

His expression shifted, something flickering behind the controlled surface.

Before he could say anything, a flash went off from the hallway behind us. We both turned.

A photographer stood there, camera raised, capturing us—him close, me looking shaken, his hand still half-lifted like he hadn’t fully let go.

Perfect.

“Got it,” the man muttered, already stepping back.

“Delete that,” Caden snapped, moving toward him.

“Public event, Alpha,” the photographer shot back. “Fair game.”

Another flash.

Then he was gone.

Caden stopped, tension radiating off him in waves.

I exhaled slowly. “You can’t stop it.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Watch me.”

“Even if you could,” I added, “there are a hundred more like him out there. The story’s already spreading.”

He didn’t argue this time.

Across the ballroom, I caught sight of Vivienne.

She was watching us.

Her expression wasn’t hidden now—no polite smile, no mask. Just pure fury, sharp and focused, directed straight at me.

Beside her, Marcus stood calm, almost amused, his gaze calculating as he watched the aftermath unfold.

I looked back at Caden. “Tomorrow,” I said quietly, “they’ll use this.”

“For what?” he asked.

I held his gaze. “To force your hand.”

His expression hardened, like he understood exactly what I meant but didn’t want to say it out loud.

From the ballroom, another wave of noise rose—reporters regrouping, wolves talking louder now, the tension spreading through the room.

I took a step back from him. “You should go back.”

“Aria—”

“You should go back,” I repeated. “Stand next to her. Play your part.”

His jaw clenched. “This isn’t a game.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not. That’s why you need to decide which side you’re on.”

The words hung there between us.

Heavy.

Unanswered.

I turned before he could respond, moving down the corridor, away from the lights, the noise, the cameras.

Behind me, I felt his gaze linger.

Felt the hesitation.

But he didn’t follow.

And somehow, that hurt more than everything the reporters had said.