Eloise leans over and bumps my shoulder. “Ready to go ruin some alphas?”
I give her a weak smile. “Ready to go win.”
The city blurs past. We head toward the manor, toward the rest of my life, toward whatever disaster waits next.
And I don’t look back, not once.
CHAPTER 8
Ranier
When a pack choosesto wallow in their own malaise, it’s amazing how quickly a manor as big as ours can shrink to the size of a padded cell. Bastion is sprawled on the ancient sectional, bourbon in one hand, his phone in the other, scrolling so hard I swear he’s going to engrave the screen into his corneas. Wyatt’s at the window, arms folded, gaze fixed on the rain that’s been coming down since Selection earlier. I’m at the hearth, doing my best impersonation of a man who feels nothing at all.
That lasts about seven seconds, until the doorbell shrieks through the silence and someone uses the knocker at the same time.
“Tell me that’s not who I think it is,” Bastion mutters.
I flick my eyes to the clock. The rest of the house is empty, just us. I don’t think any of us expected our new omega to arrive so soon. “Did anyone order an omega with a side of public humiliation?”
Wyatt’s lips twitch, not quite a smile. “Maybe the girl brought a press entourage.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I make for the door. The glass in the entry is warped with centuries of coldand condensation, but even through the distortion, I know the silhouette by heart. My father. Of course.
He’s flanked by two smaller figures: Helena, my sister, in a prim dark coat with her finishing school sash, and Richard, who looks like he’s only here under pain of death or threat of losing his allowance.
I open the door and brace for a lecture.
My father’s voice is thunder at a funeral. “Son.”
“Father.” I step aside.
He sweeps in like he owns the manor, Helena on his heels, and Richard dragging in last, already eyeing the wine rack over Bastion’s head. The house absorbs their energy.
My father doesn’t take his coat off. He gives the room a single, surgical scan, then lands his gaze on me. “You finally did your duty. I’m proud of you, Ranier. Even if your new omega is… a commoner.”
“Fuck off.” I’m nothing if not consistent.
Helena gasps. “Ranier.”
“Don’t worry, Helena,” says my father. “He’s an alpha with an omega now. He can say what he pleases.”
Wyatt snorts from the window. “Must be nice to have that kind of leeway.”
Richard sidles over to Bastion, who doesn’t even look up, and helps himself to the decanter. “So is your omega coming, or what?”
Helena steps into the circle of light from the fireplace and hugs her arms to her sides. “Why a commoner, Ranier?”
“We didn’t pick her,” Bastion grumbles. “She picked us. She played the Council. I respect it, but it’s still a loss.”
My father turns to Bastion and gives him a nod that’s almost approving. “Silverwood, you know better than anyone what’s at stake. This is about legacy, not preference. Not comfort.”
Wyatt hums just loud enough to be a problem. “Legacy didn’t do Charlotte much good.”
Helena ignores Wyatt. She faces me, and for a moment I see the version of her from before she left for omega finishing school—still blunt, still too smart for her own good. “I’m off for two weeks before term starts again. I can stay, if you want. Help her acclimate. Maybe she’ll need a friend.”
“That’s unnecessary. She won’t last that long.”
Helena tilts her head. “Maybe she will. What if she’s… good? What if she’s exactly what the pack needs? Have you considered that?”
