Of all the males in all the species in all of Shiftown, I had to get the hots for pigs.
PIGS.
Not even one pig—which would be embarrassing enough—but THREE.
The Brothers Pork. The Swine Squad. The Hamazing Trio.
Maybe it’s just my heat.
Another lie.
I push those thoughts aside as I put on my game-face, although I’m not as confident as I’m pretending to be.
Part of me still can’t believe I’m doing this—inviting three Porkwell brothers into the heart of wolf territory. But if there’s even a chance that seeing Wolfstone through my eyes could change their minds, I have to try.
The land is worth the risk.
Worth the discomfort.
I’ve spent the night rehearsing my speech about fifteen different ways and buzzing with wolf energy. I’m still in yesterday’s clothes—jeans and a tee that smells faintly of last night’s anxiety sweat.
Not exactly power-dressing, but I don’t need designer labels to make a statement.
I pause, inhaling deeply. The mingled scents of the three brothers hit me.
My body betrays me with immediate, visceral reactions to their scents. Percy’s earthy aroma makes my chest tighten with something dangerously close to yearning. Hamilton’s dominant, powerful scent triggers a flush of heat that races from my neck to my core. My body remembering exactly what happened in that stairwell. And Prescott’s clean smell brings a strange comfort I’m not ready to examine.
I force my breathing to steady, my heartbeat to slow. This isn’t about attraction or the confusing tangle of feelings I have for these three brothers. This is about Wolfstone.
Focus, Ruby.
Prescott’s text from last night burns in my pocket: “Cleared schedules. All at the penthouse tomorrow morning. Now’s your chance.”
The tech-savvy pig might be my surprising ally in this mess, though I’m still suspicious about his motivations.
Never trust pig-bearing gifts and all that.
The sound of voices leads me through a hallway lined with architectural awards—all with Percy’s name engraved in gold—and into their sprawling living room. Three heads turn in unison as I appear.
“Good morning, gentlemales,” I announce, my voice ringing with false cheer. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
Hamilton, mid-sip of what smells like black coffee, nearly chokes. “What the—” he slams his mug down on the glass table. “How did you get up here?”
He then looks at Prescot, who’s suddenly very interested in his laptop.
I shrug, “Not important.”
Hamilton growls, standing up from his leather throne of a chair. His tailored suit hugs his body in ways that remind me too vividly of our stairwell encounter.
Not the time, Ruby.
Percy, lounging on the kitchen aisle, still wearing only boxers—looks more amused than alarmed. “Ruby. To what do we owe this unexpected house call?”
Prescott, perched on a barstool at the kitchen island, laptop open in front of him, gives me the smallest nod. His face betrays nothing, but his eyes hold a hint of conspiracy.
“I’m here to make an announcement,” I declare, planting myself in the center of their ridiculously plush area rug, hands on my hips. “We’re going on a field trip.”
Hamilton barks out a laugh. “We’re what now?”
