she should have still been resting.
She heard a few mentions of betas and spying, but there were other topics flying around that Olivia couldn't connect to the shady government agency that had sent her here. The alphas seemed focused on a discussion of fuel shortages and an influx of omegas in the lowlands.
As the moments ticked by, the hum of voices around her grew louder and more animated. She overheard parts of a conversation about a military incursion on private property in the southern area and another about the decrease in beta traders crossing the border. There were disturbing questions about whether there would be enough supplies to carry them through the brutal winter ahead.
But the most troubling thing she picked up on was a remark that provoked a heated argument. From what she could make out, some of the alphas didn't trust their brothers to the south—both those in the midlands and the lowlands—to share their limited resources. When an aggressive alpha with a scar under his eye suggested a preemptive raid, all hell threatened to break loose until Gray calmed the situation down.
Olivia held onto her glass with both hands as her anxiety grew. She was starting to piece together a theory about what was really going on here—why she'd been sent, why she'd been found, and why conflict was beginning to simmer among these alphas.
Being a wildlife photographer meant being aware of her surroundings at all times. Even when she was focused intently on the subject in front of her, she was constantly scanning for anything out of place, anything that could threaten her safety or spook her subject.
She'd seen this kind of nervous behavior before in pack animals around the world. In her experience, it never led to anything good, and it was almost always triggered by some creature outside the group.
Right now, this keenly developed awareness was telling her that some force had invaded the Boundarylands with the intention of riling up these alphas and causing them to panic. The more she heard, the more certain she became.
She searched for Gray in the crowd and, not finding him, blurted out his name. Instantly, she saw him rise from a table of young alphas, nearly knocking over his chair in his hurry to reach her.
"You okay?" He settled his hand protectively on her shoulder.
"Yes—I didn't mean for you to rush over here. But I need to talk to you about something."
Gray stopped listening as soon as he'd established that she was fine. He was already looking past her, scanning the crowd. "Sure, on the way home. I still have a little more business here."
"But Gray, it's—"
But he had already turned away. "We'll leave soon, I promise," he said, disappearing back into the crowd.
Fuck that, Olivia thought, her blood starting to boil. She was used to being dismissed and ignored. The same black-tie crowd society that loved to buy her work and give her awards gave her the cold shoulder the second she said anything that contradicted their world view, treating her like one of the catering staff.
But that didn't mean Olivia had learned to keep her mouth closed. Her words had landed her in hot water a few times when a donor's ego got bruised, but keeping her integrity was worth it.
Of course, there were quite a few differences between those wealthy donors and these hulking alphas—differences that went beyond the way they dressed and the spirits they drank.
The worst thing that could happen to her at those galas was to walk away with a less-than-glowing review, but if these alphas didn't like what she had to say, Olivia might not walk away at all.
Still, if this really was her life now—if she was destined to live out her days in the wilds of the Boundarylands—then that made this her home too. Which meant she had as much stake in it as anyone else.
"Hey," she said to the closest alphas, a group of three tossing back shots. "I have an idea about what might be going on here."
But she only managed to get their attention for a second before they went back to their own conversation, ignoring her completely.
So that's how it was, Olivia fumed. Well, not for long.
Before she could rethink her decision, she slammed the rest of her beer for courage and climbed up on her bar stool, the only way she could think of to get the attention of a crowd whose members averaged seven and a half feet tall.
"Everyone shut up," she