I pause at the door. "Manage the damage."
"Exactly. But only if you're willing to work with us."
I look back at him, noting the way his fingers drum against the desk, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He's nervous. Good.
"Here's what I think happened," I say slowly. "You needed drama for ratings. The sweet little romance wasn't enough. Soyou orchestrated this leak, probably through one of your social media partners, and timed it perfectly to maximize outrage."
"That's quite an accusation?—"
"The problem is, you underestimated the backlash. Now you're worried about liability, about the show being seen as promoting hate. So you need a quick fix. A way to distance yourself from the monster you created."
His jaw tightens. "You're being dramatic."
"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you just turned me and Korgan into targets for every racist with internet access. And now you want us to clean up your mess."
I step closer, letting my voice drop. "But here's the thing, Webb. I'm not your puppet. And I won't let you or anyone else turn what happened between Korgan and me into something ugly."
"And how exactly do you plan to stop this?"
I smile, and from his expression, it must be as sharp as it feels. "By telling the truth. In my own words. On my own terms."
I leave him sputtering and head straight for the kitchen, where I know Korgan will be hiding. Sure enough, I find him standing at the industrial sink, aggressively washing dishes that are already clean.
"We need to talk."
He doesn't look up. "I heard about the video."
"Good. Then you know we have a problem."
"Wehave a problem?" His voice is carefully neutral. "I thought I was just a distraction."
Guilt twists in my stomach, but I push it aside. We can hash out hurt feelings later. Right now, we have bigger concerns.
"Korgan, look at me."
He turns, and the pain in his eyes nearly undoes me. But underneath it, I see something else. The same anger burning in my chest.
"They're calling you a savage," I say quietly. "They're saying I'm brainwashed or paid off. And they're threatening to destroy my bakery."
His hands clench into fists. "I'm sorry. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid."
"By calling me a distraction?"
"By letting myself forget that everything I do reflects on my people. That every choice I make can be used as ammunition against orcs everywhere." He runs a hand through his hair. "Webb's article after my brother's death didn't just hurt me. It set back human-orc relations by years. And now I've let it happen again."
I study his face, seeing past the stoic mask to the guilt eating him alive. "So what's your plan? Run away? Hide? Let them win?"
"My plan is to keep you from being collateral damage in my mistakes."
"Too late for that." I pull out my phone, showing him the screen full of notifications. "I'm already in this. The question is whether we're going to let them control the narrative, or if we're going to tell our own story."
He looks at the phone, his expression darkening as he scrolls through comments. "What did you have in mind?"
"A livestream. Tonight. You, me, and a kitchen full of baking supplies."
"Trinity—"
"Hear me out." I lean against the counter, warming to the idea. "People are saying you're some kind of monster who can't control himself around human women. They're saying I'm a naive little girl who doesn't know what she's getting into. So let's show them who we really are."
