I shrug. “That’s always been our dynamic,” I continue, surprised at myself for saying this out loud.
“Hamilton the dominant leader, Percy the charismatic creator, and me, the awkward tech support.”
Growing up, Hamilton protected me from bullies but expected absolute loyalty in return. Percy taught me to appreciate beauty, but never quite understood my fascination with code over concrete. They love me in their way, but sometimes I wonder if they see me as a full partner or just the useful little brother who makes their visions possible.
When we were young, Father would evaluate our contributions to the family business at monthly dinners. Hamilton always presented profit projections, Percy showed his latest designs, and I’d try to explain complex algorithms only to be cut off with a pat on the head and a “that’s nice, Scott.” Eventually, I stopped trying to make them understand and just built systems that made them money.
I glance down, fingers curling against my thigh. “They love me, I guess. But sometimes I wonder if they see me as a partner or just the useful little brother who keeps the engine running.”
Ruby smiles. “You’re more than useful, Scott. And you’re definitely more than tech support.”
She pauses., “Percy told me the tech division’s the one making all the profit. So yeah, maybe you’re not the face of the company—but you’re the backbone.”
She leans in a little closer. “Besides, I don’t need smooth, I need real. And you, Scott? You’re real.”
Her words hit me harder than they should have. She sees me—not as Hamilton’s shadow or Percy’s quirky brother, but as my own person.
A person worth knowing, not just a Porkwell worth using.
It’s alarmingly unfamiliar territory.
The terrace door slides open behind us. We both jump apart like guilty teenagers.
“There you are,” says Hamilton’s executive assistant, looking harried. “Hamilton is looking for you, Scott. The meeting is about to resume.”
Reality crashes back and Ruby straightens her shoulders, businesswoman once more. “Thank you, Prescott. For the water. And the… pep talk.”
I nod, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Anytime.”
Once she’s gone, I turn back to the railing, looking out at the distant green patch of Wolfstone Preserve. For the first time in years, I find myself wanting to leave my climate-controlled environment.
To see something real.
Something worth protecting.
And if I’m being honest—something worth fighting my brothers for.
9
Ruby
Istride into the Porkwell penthouse with a swagger that completely belies my inner turmoil.
Three little pigs.
I’ve been fantasizing about three goddamn pigs. The universe has a sick sense of humor sometimes.
But no more.
No more being distracted by the way Hamilton’s voice drops when he’s making a point. By the playful spark in Prescott’s eyes, by the genuine passion in Percy’s face as he talks about his designs.
“Working with the land,”—as if Wolfstone needed the help of a pig.
My wolf is still restless. She doesn’t understand the complications, the politics. She just knows that Wolfstone ishome. That it’s where my grandmother shifted for the first time, where my mother taught me to hunt, where our pack has gathered for centuries.
And she knows something else I’m trying desperately to ignore: those three brothers smell good. Really good; like, stop in your tracks and savour it, good.
And not the “good” you’d expect from a wolf’s assessment. I’m not talking about the appetizing aroma of bacon sizzling in a pan—though there’s a twisted irony there I’m refusing to examine. No, this is the ridiculous, biology-betraying, make-me-want-to-howl-at-inappropriate-moments kind of good.
