The walk back to the main house feels like a dream. Trinity's hand stays tucked in mine, her shoulder pressed to my arm. For the first time in years, I don't feel my oath, don't feel the ghost of my brother's expectations.
Then we round the corner and see Darren Strange leaning against the porch railing.
His camera crew stands nearby, equipment pointed at us like weapons. My body goes rigid, every muscle locking down. Trinity notices immediately.
"Who's that?" she asks quietly.
"Darren Strange, also known as Webb in the industry." My voice comes out flat. "The journalist who destroyed my reputation after Drakar's death."
Her hand tightens in mine. "What's he doing here?"
"Waiting for us." I force my shoulders to relax, my expression to smooth. "Probably has questions about our 'relationship.'"
She stops walking. "You don't have to do this."
I turn to face her fully. "Do what?"
"Pretend with him. For the show. For anything." She searches my face. "Not after... that."
I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I know."
Her breath catches. "Then what are we doing?"
"Walking back to the house. Together." I press a quick kiss to her lips. "The rest we'll figure out."
She nods, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. We start walking again, our hands still linked. Webb watches our approach with the predatory focus of a man who scents blood in the water.
"Korgan," he calls as we reach the porch steps. "Care to comment on your... relationship with your co-star?"
I help Trinity up the steps before answering. "No."
His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "No? That's not very cooperative of you."
"Not everything requires commentary."
Webb's gaze flicks to Trinity. "And you, Ms. Lewis? How do you feel about being used as a publicity stunt?"
Trinity stiffens, but her voice stays steady. "I think that's a question better suited for the producers, don't you?"
Webb's smile turns sharp. "Oh, I plan to ask them. But I'm more interested in your perspective. After all, you're the one who stands to gain from this... arrangement."
I step slightly in front of Trinity, blocking Webb's view. "We're done here."
He doesn't move. "I haven't gotten my answers."
"You haven't asked any actual questions." I keep my voice level. "You're fishing for drama where there isn't any."
"Drama?" Strange laughs. "Is that what you call it? I'd call it deception. Manipulation. Using a sweet small-town girl to rehabilitate your image."
Trinity's hand presses against my back. "Korgan?—"
"Don't." I don't look at her. "This isn't your fight."
Strange's eyes light up. "Oh, so it is a fight? Interesting choice of words for someone claiming this is all above board."
I take a slow breath, counting to five before speaking. "You're not getting what you want here. Move along."
For a long moment, Strange just stares. Then he smiles, slow and unpleasant. "Fine. For now." He steps back, gesturing to his crew. "But I'll be watching. And when this all falls apart, and it will, I'll be there to document every delicious moment."
