Eloise flicks her hair, the ends catching blue from the chandelier, and steps past me onto the stone porch. “I’ll risk frostbite,” she says. “Better that than risk getting caught in a pack’s den at night.”
She says it like a joke, but there’s real heat under the sugar.
The night’s cold. Wet, but not raining, which is a novelty in this city. The limo’s parked at the curb. I watch as Eloise hugs herself against the wind. She looks less like a threat out here and more like a college kid who forgot her coat. I wonder if she knows how effective that camouflage is.
“Nice place,” Eloise says, flicking her gaze up at the gothic lines of the manor. “Reminds me of a haunted frat house.”
“That’s not a compliment,” I say.
She shrugs. “Neither is this.” She looks me up and down, her eyes clear, sharp, and more awake than anyone ought to be at this hour. “You’re not the worst of the three, Whitlock, but that’s a low bar.”
I want to agree. Instead I smile. “If you’re here to threaten me, you should get in line. Bastion’s grandmother has the top spot and she’s very possessive.”
Eloise’s grin is a blade. “I’m not here to threaten. Just to warn.”
I let my hand drift to the doorknob, casual, like I might close it at any moment and lock her out. “And what’s the warning?”
She steps in, toe to toe. No fear. “If you or your pack hurt Emery again, I’ll make sure you never forget it. If you humiliate her in public again, or drive her out, or do anything that sets her back, I’ll make it so everyone you care about knows what a coward you are. Even the ones you haven’t met yet.”
I could tell her I’m not scared of threats, but that would be a lie. People who threaten to punch you never do. It’s the quiet ones—the ones who warn you and then move on—that leave a scar.
“Emery’s your best friend. Is that it?”
Eloise shakes her head, then softens it with a slow smile. “She’s more than that. She’s the only one in our year who didn’t treat me like a beta with a beta brain. She’s the reason I got into gallery work, you know. Because she said I could, and because she meant it. I owe her.”
I believe her. I want to say I admire it, but I know better than to give away that kind of approval for free. I let the moment stretch before replying.
“If Emery wants to star in the next viral Royals Anonymous blog post who am I to stop her?” I say. “She made this circus on her own.”
Eloise’s smile turns almost gentle. “If she wants it, yes. But if you push her into an unearned limelight, I’ll break your kneecaps with a wrench.”
Yet Charlotte burned the Everhart name without lifting her voice.
“Message received,” I say. “And for what it’s worth—I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t think Bastion or Ranier do, either.”
Eloise snorts. “Good. Maybe you’ll last longer than three days.”
The limo driver arrives back from his break and stands by the car. Eloise tucks her hands into her jacket and leans in, close enough that I catch the faint perfume of oil paint on her hands and peppermint on her breath.
“Take care of her, Whitlock,” she says. “Or at least, don’t be the reason she goes.”
I hold her gaze, let her see whatever is left of my own sincerity. “I won’t.”
She smiles, big and wild, like she’s already forgotten the threat. “We’ll see,” she says, and then she’s down the steps, heels clicking on the stone.
I watch as the limo swallows her up, as the taillights fade down the drive and the silence folds back over the porch.
The night feels even colder, but the house is bright and loud behind me. I glance up at the high windows and think about what it must look like from the outside: the three alphas, the commoner omega, the impossible weight of legacy.
Emery Grey has a better friend than any of us deserve.
I close the door, latch it, and head back to my room to write down everything Eloise just said. Not for the blog. Just to remember what real loyalty looks like.
CHAPTER 11
Emery
The house isa giant seashell amplifying every sound when I wake the next morning. I wake up too early, adrenaline still whirring in my blood, and for twenty minutes I lie there and listen to the bones of Everhart Manor creak as if the whole building is debating whether to reject me too.
