It was a text from him.
Dimitri: There’s been a shift change at the penthouse. New guards, and an extra one will arrive for the night. Ordered dinner to the penthouse already.
When I reached the lobby, I found a man waiting just outside the glass door. I didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. His signature eight-panel cap gave him away. Edmund.
My forehead creased, unease curling through my body. Whenever Edmund called, it was usually something serious. And now he’d shown up at my office? That couldn’t be good.
I walked out of the lobby, the wind hitting me and blowing my hair everywhere.
“Edmund, hi,” I called to him, and he turned around with a smile. “Have you been waiting long? You should have called to inform me you were dropping by.”
He smiled softly at me—and Edmund rarely smiled. “I just got here. Plus, it isn’t official business.”
I hooked a brow. “It’s not?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to…talk to you.”
I nodded slowly, assessing him with a confused expression. “We should get off the road, Isabella. After what happened four days ago, we can’t be standing around.”
“Um…” I looked around. “I was heading home, but there’s a cafe around the office. We could sit there and talk.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. I came along with my car. You could ride with me, and I’ll drop you off at the penthouse. A guard will come around to get your car.”
I didn’t make a fuss about riding with Edmund. It was Edmund, after all. I nodded and got into the backseat of the car. Edmund entered too. He indicated to the driver my address, and we were on our way.
“I know it’s been crazy for a week now,” he said.
I turned to look at him properly. In the dim light of the car, he looked older, more tired. Lines I hadn’t noticed before creased his forehead. But he was still as active and agile as ever.
“How is he?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Dimitri, I mean. How… how is he handling everything?”
Edmund’s expression softened. “Honestly? Not well. He’s been sadder than usual since he came back from the safe house. Quieter. He goes through the motions—works, attends meetings, makes decisions—but it’s like the light’s gone out of him.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach.
“He won’t talk about it,” Edmund continued. “But I’ve known that boy since he was in diapers. I know when something’s eating at him.” He looked at me pointedly. “Or someone.”
“Edmund—”
“I’m not judging, Isabella. I don’t know what happened between you two, and it’s not my business. But whatever it was, it’s tearing him apart.”
I looked out the window, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you two.”
We drove in silence for a few moments. The city lights blurred past, streaks of color in the darkness.
“He’s facing a lot of trouble with the Pack Council,” Edmund said finally, his voice heavy. “Selene’s accusations at the board meeting? They’re being taken seriously. There’s pressure on him to denounce you and Adele publicly. To prove his loyalty to the pack over… over his personal entanglements.”
My head snapped toward him. “What?”
“Strategic rumors have been placed about Adele. About the circumstances of her birth.” His jaw tightened. “They’re alluding to the child being the result of an unnatural union. Saying that because you and Dimitri were raised as step-siblings, even briefly, that Adele is somehow…tainted.”
Rage, white-hot and blinding, exploded through me.
“They’re attacking my daughter?” My voice came out low, dangerous. “They’re spreading lies about a four-year-old child?”
“I’m sorry, Isabella. I wish I had better news.”
