Home, I guess. But maybe not if her parents really weren’t the biggest fans of her joining our pack.
It’s only a few hours in that I finally realize I’m incredibly stupid. Eloise, Emery’s best friend. She’d go there. I’ve spent nearly my entire life with my pack so having friends outside of them isn’t a thing. There are the guys who are always at races, but they’re more acquaintances than anything else. I’ve never had a best friend outside my pack.
Emery is lucky. And I’m lucky as hell that I remember Emery telling me vaguely where Eloise lived. The houses are easy to find. They’re settled against the lake just like Emery said. But I do not know which is Eloise’s home.
So I knock. I knock on every single door at every house until, finally, a familiar blonde with narrowed green eyes stares me down. “What are you doing here?”
I’m actually so shocked to see Eloise that my mouth goes dry for far too long. I swallow. “I think it’s rather obvious. Is Emery here?”
Eloise’s eyes grow dark. “How did you even find me?”
I let out a dry laugh. “I knocked on every door until you answered.”
Eloise raises her eyebrows. “In the city?”
I point past her. “Emery mentioned you lived in a multi-family home near the lake. Please, is she here?”
Finally, Eloise relents. Her body relaxes but I can tell in the tone of her voice that she’s only humoring me. “She is. She’s okay. And she might even want to talk to you. But I told you all the day Emery got to your manor that if you hurt her, I’d hurtyou.”
I nod. “I know. And we deserve it. But there’s been a massive misunderstanding, and I want clear it up at the very least.”
Eloise considers me for a long moment. She’s fiercely protective of Emery, and I admire that about her as Emery’s alpha.Hopefullystill her alpha. The fact that’s not guaranteed breaks something deep within me.
Eloise steps out of the way and ushers me into her home with a wave of her hand.
I enter. Eloise’s home isn’t a fancy manor, but it’s homey and cozy and everything I sometimes wish we were allowed to make the manor. A lot of Eloise’s style reflects Emery’s, which doesn’t surprise me considering how close they are. But what I don’t expect to see are all the canvases lining the walls like Emery’s studio nest. Eloise must be an artist, too.
I follow Eloise wordlessly until Emery is in view. She’s sitting on a cozy couch in the living room with her knees tucked under her chin.
My lips part in a gentle smile when I see her, safe and at home here. “Emery.”
“Hi Bastion.”
Eloise makes a production of crossing the room and giving Emery a shoulder squeeze before leaving again to give us privacy. I’m not so dense as to assume it’s not for my benefit—a warning that if I so much as raise my voice, I’ll have an artist’s palette embedded in my skull.
I kneel beside the pile of blankets and my omega. I’m not good at this, but there’s no playbook for being the villain in someone else’s story, however short-lived and unintended.
I lower my voice, careful. “I’m not here to bring you back if that’s not what you want. I just… need you to know what happened.”
A sniff, so faint I almost miss it. But she’s watching me. She’s listening.There’s still a chance.
“Okay,” Emery says. “Eloise and I… we decided there was a chance that maybe Wyatt was hacked or something.”
Good. So there’s that assumption there already. But it won’t help the whole truth, and Emery deserves nothing but the whole truth.
I settle on the floor in front of her and cross my legs. “There’s no good way to say this,” I start. “But the post? The draft? It was Ranier.”
Emery’s eyes narrowed. “Ranier?”
I hold up a hand before she says anything else. “He found Wyatt’s phone after our debut event and donor drive. Ranier wrote the draft but never posted it. Didn’t even think it would go anywhere. But Charlotte got into the admin queue and leaked it. Wyatt didn’t know. He’s an idiot, but not that kind.”
I wait. Emery doesn’t move. I keep going.
“I know that doesn’t make it better. I know it doesn’t change anything. But you have to believe me, none of us wanted to hurt you. Especially not like this.”
A low voice, muffled against her knees. “He still meant it. Or he wouldn’t have written it.” She lets out a dry laugh. “Did he write it before or after he gave me his claim mark?”
I nod, slow. “Ranier’s been raised his whole life to think that legacy is more important than anything. It’s what his dad drilled into him. And when he gets scared, he gets cruel. But that’s not all he is.”
