“There’s someone else,” he says, accusingly. “Is it Vane? He’s your sire, but I saw the anguish in your eyes when you talked about him. Do you love him?”
Jaxson deserves better than me. He just needs a push before he sees it.
“Yes.”
Jax recoils as if struck. “Are you lying?”
“I’m not! And I will never take the cure and ride off into the fucking sunset with you.” My entire body trembles. “Forget me. Forget you love me. I am not worth it.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.
“You’re angry at Juliette. This isn’t you.” I shake my head, but he adds, “I’ll give you some time to cool off before we raise the daemon.”
“I can do it alone,” I snap after him.
“We are in this together,” Jaxson replies without turning around. “I’ll see you in a few hours. I expect an apology.”
I stare after him long after he disappears, my feet rooted in place. If I chased after him, he might push me away for all the harsh things I said. I’m already alone; I don’t need his rejection. A bird can only stay in the nest for so long before learning to fly, and I want Jaxson to soar, even if it means leaving me behind.
I peel off my jacket,and the canvas material of my uniform falls to the floor. Next, I tug my shirt over my head and let it drop next to the coat. I go to my chest of drawers and yank out a plain white T-shirt. When I glance outside, a few lights are on in the buildings across the street, but most businesses and homes are still rationing energy with the generators. By tomorrow, though, the grid should be back up and running. After several hours of discussions with Michael Bersa today, I finally got some assurance. He’d be back in production by morning with Dimitri’s replacement. One win, at least.
The piercing ring of my phone jolts me from my thoughts. Stellan’s name lights up the screen, and I frown. I’ve been waiting for this call all day. Since Leigh refuses to meet in person, I need to convince Stellan to meet her as an astral projection.
If he does, they might reconcile their differences and keep Aurora on the Corona map. But after Stellan’s explosive article about Fynn, negotiations will be like treading on thin ice, with each step shattering the fragile peace. He needs to take down the article before they talk—if they talk at all.
“Stellan.”
“Ah, Wilder, I hope you have good news for me,” he replies. In the background, papers rustle. “Are you ready to join my team of freedom fighters?”
I put him on speakerphone so I can put on a shirt. “I haven’t decided yet.” The only way I’d work for him is if he and Leigh teamed up together. “But if you want me to keep thinking about it, rather than flat out refusing, I suggest removing the article before we get into it.”
“Which article?” Stellan’s feigned innocence has me frowning at my reflection in the mirror.
“Don’t get cute. You know which article,” I growl. The silence on the other end is maddening. I can almost see Stellan’s self-satisfied smirk. “It’s libel.”
“Is it?”
I cross my arms and lean against my dresser, unsure what to think. Leigh didn’t tell me anything last night. Instead, she distracted me with sex. She needed the distraction, and I was too eager to give in to her when I should have pressed her more. I take a deep breath to ebb the frustration within me, knowing she doesn’t trust me enough to confide in me.
“Writing about her family is a sure way to get on her bad side before you two have a chance to be friends,” I tell him.
There’s murmuring on the other line, followed by the soft thud of a closing door. When Stellan speaks again, his voice is low and conspiratorial, a snake’s whisper in the dark. “I get my information from a very trusted source, Wilder. They have it on good authority that Fynn is Don Raelyn’s son, which questions whether Leigh is, too. Not much is known about Lunar witchcraft. Just because she summoned Gwyn’s ghost doesn’t mean she is his heir. And maybe I don’t want to be Leigh’s friend.”
I glare at my phone. What the hell? Leigh is the rightful monarch. Stellan is stirring up trouble.
“Did you ever have any intention of meeting with her? Or were you just dicking me around until your article came out? Because I don’t get the sense you want to collaborate,” I demand. “Who even is your source, anyway?”
Stellan’s laugh is like nails on a chalkboard. “A good journalist never reveals their sources, Wilder.”
“A good journalist also doesn’t fuck up their career by not fact-checking said sources,” I retort.
“You’re angry.”
“No shit. Leigh isn’t forgiving, and you aren’t making her reign any easier.” The words come out in a rush. “If you could take a step back and view the situation from all sides, you’d know Leigh wants the same thing as you. Justice for the Nebula; peace in Corona.”
Stellan exhales loudly. “It’s not my job to make it easier. Neither is it yours. She inherited a trainwreck, and if she and her family intend to keep secrets, then my goal is to uncover every one of them. If what I wrote about Fynn wasn’t true, why hasn’t anyone issued a statement?”
His question hangs between us like forbidden fruit. I don’t have an answer because Leigh didn’t tell me anything. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
