Ranier puts the phone on the credenza as if to prevent throwing it at someone in the next five seconds. His hand goes to his jaw, his thumb pressing a line into the bone.
“The Council’s called off Emery’s exhibition,” he says. “There’s a news cycle starting. They’re running stories about her—about all of us. My father called. He wants her gone by tomorrow.”
Bastion grunts. “That’s not happening. They can’t cancel her exhibition whether she’s gone or not.”
Ranier glares. “Not up to you.”
“It is,” Bastion fires back. “We also claimed her, even you. She’s one of us. We’re all Everhart Pack.”
Ranier’s eyes narrow. His gaze flicks from me to Bastion and back again. The muscle in his jaw twitches once, twice, and his fingers drum against his thigh in that precise three-beat rhythm he uses when weighing outcomes he doesn’t like. “Where is Emery?”
I want to lie. I want to protect her, or myself, or both. But I don’t even know where she went. I just shrug, helpless.
“Emery saw a draft on Wyatt’s phone,” Bastion says, voice heavy. “Some post trashing her. She lost it.”
Ranier’s eyes flick to me. But there’s something else besides surprise hidden there. “You wrote it?”
“No. I didn’t.” I get the feeling that no matter how much I protest, no one will ever listen. I guess that’s what you get for years of earning anonymous fame by spilling rumors and opinions online.
Bastion snorts. “Liar.”
“I didn’t. I’ve been off the site. The admin queue—anyone could’ve?—”
“Anyone?” Ranier cuts in, tone sharp. “Who else has access?”
I think, fast. “Only moderators. I mean, technically?—”
Ranier closes his eyes and sighs heavily. His fists clench tight at his sides. “I wrote it.”
Every one of those three words feels like a gunshot.
Bastion and I freeze.
“What?” Bastion hisses.
Ranier clears his throat. “I was pissed off. After the Council meeting, after the press called. I picked up your phone, Wyatt, and I drafted it. Didn’t post. Didn’t even think about it again. I just… wanted to say what everyone else was thinking. But I didn’t mean for her to see it.”
He looks at me, and there’s nothing but exhaustion in his face. “You really have to put a shorter timer on your lock screen. I know you’re addicted, but… Or at least, don’t leave your phone lying aroundespeciallywhen you’ve got a long lock out timerandrun a gossip blog.”
I shake my head. I don’t have the capacity to process losing Emery and Ranier’s lack of respect for my privacy at the same time. So I lock up the latter betrayal before it guts me raw. “It still doesn’t make sense. The press is quoting stuff from Royals Anonymous like it’s gospel. But if it wasn’t published?—”
Bastion snaps his fingers. “It was Charlotte. Had to be.”
Ranier frowns. “Charlotte?”
“Charlotte used to be a moderator,” Bastion says, voice tight. “She had the password. She always had the password. You never changed it, did you, Wyatt?”
The blood drains from my face.Oh fuck.Charlotte would have never even needed to draft a single word. If she saw what she assumed I had written in my drafts, all she’d need to do to ruin us is hitpost.
It’s so… simple. Just as simple as ruining Bastion’s life had been before.
Charlotte’s never changed. And I’ve never learned.
And now that might cost us all Emery, the omega of our dreams.
My mouth is so dry. “She promised she’d delete her access.”
“Yeah?” Bastion sneers. “She also promised she’d never fuck me over, and look how that turned out.”
