Bastion occupies half a loveseat and most of the bourbon on the cart. Wyatt is splayed at the far end of the sofa, fingers flicking at his phone with more focus than he’s ever given a human being. It’s a rare moment of peace in the Everhart house, if you don’t count the ticking of the grandfather clock. I can hear Helena upstairs with Emery as their laughter fills the halls of the second floor.
Bastion’s the first to crack. “You should be worried about it, you know.”
I look at him. He’s chewing the edge of his glass. His brown eyes are fixed on the sunlight filtered through the bottle onto the table. “Worried about what?”
Bastion nods toward the stairs. “Helena’s been up there for a while now. If you’re not careful, your sister’s going to actually like her.”
Wyatt snorts without looking up. “Wouldn’t that be a tragedy. Two omegas who don’t hate each other on sight.”
I roll my eyes. “Helena can do what she wants. It’s not like I can stop her.”
Bastion tosses back the rest of his drink and then sets the glass down with a sharp clack. “You can, but you won’t.”
He’s right, but I’m not in the mood to say it out loud. Instead I let the silence build and count every tick of the clock until Wyatt sighs like he’s been asked to personally solve world hunger.
“She’s not going to break,” Wyatt says. “Grey. Emery. Whatever we’re calling her now. She’s stubborn as hell and smarter than you’d guess.”
I scoff. “Definesmart.”
Wyatt’s thumb glides across his phone screen. “She did two programs at once. Art schoolandfinishing school. Do you know how hard that is? I checked the records—she graduated top of her class for both.”
Bastion leans forward, interest piqued. “How do you even get into two programs at once? The Council doesn’t allow overlap unless you’re a prodigy or a legacy. And she’s not a legacy.”
Wyatt’s smile is thin and clinical. “She’s a scholarship kid. Outscored every omega in the city on the placement tests. They had to make an exception. Then she ran every club at the finishing school and sold three paintings to a Council wife in the same semester.”
Bastion whistles low as if he’s impressed in spite of himself. “Is that on the blog already, or are you saving it?”
“Depends how petty I’m feeling,” Wyatt says, scrolling. “But it gets better. Her parents hate the whole thing. They wanted herto be literally anything else but someone’s omega. All this is her idea. She’s the one who put herself up for Omega Selection Day. The Council thought she’d flame out, make a good story. Joke’s on them.”
I feel the headache start behind my left eye. “So she’s better at being an omega than anyone here is at being an alpha. Great.”
Bastion grins. “Not hard to beat your record, Starling.”
I ignore him and get up to pour myself a drink. The bourbon stings. I let it burn.
“So what’s the move?” Wyatt asks, finally looking at me. “Are you going to bully her until she leaves? Because I don’t think it’ll work.”
I watch the light catch the liquor in the decanter. “We make her want to leave. Or we make the Council want her gone. Either way, we control the narrative.”
Bastion snorts. “You want to out-manipulate the Council? Good luck.”
“Not them. The press,” I say. “The other packs. The parents. The public. Emery is a sensation right now, but that only lasts until the next disaster. If we’re careful, we can push her into one.”
Wyatt’s interest is genuine. He sits up straighter, eyes sharp. “You have a plan?”
I nod. “There’s an art exhibition coming up at the gallery downtown. It’s her first solo show. She’s been bragging about it since Omega Selection Day. If we ruin that, the whole scholarship-omega prodigy thing turns into a joke. Nobody wants a pack omega who can’t even run an art show without drama.”
Bastion frowns. “You’re sure about this? It’s… kind of dirty.”
I snort. “Not as dirty as what the Council could do if we don’t act first.”
Wyatt is already typing on his phone, fingers flying. “She’s scheduled for a panel interview next week. Press will be there. If anything goes wrong, it’ll be viral by noon.”
“Perfect,” I say. “We’ll figure out how to light the fuse. Let her burn it down herself.”
The door to Emery’s room shuts and Helena’s footsteps start echoing down the hall. I follow the sound and sigh.
Bastion notices me staring and says, “You ever think maybe you should just give Emery a chance?”
