CHAPTER 26
Zane
The new houseis a white monolith just off the cliff edge, perched above the tide like a lookout post. It’s three stories tall with a full wall of windows facing the sea. The sign in the window still reads “UNDER CONTRACT,” but Helena’s father has paid in full as an apology, and the agent dropped off the keys with the urgency of someone who knew the buyer’s name could shatter a career.
I walk the perimeter twice. The first time around is done with a security checklist. The second is done using my gut to check for measures we may have to take. I find nothing critical, especially as the home came with a state-of-the-art security system preinstalled that means I can—in theory—start relaxing.
If I ever learn how to.
Helena’s father wanted the house ready before she saw it. I wanted it safe. Neither of us said anything about making it feel like home.
The inside smells like fresh paint and packing tape. The rooms are a little too open—an architect’s wet dream. But I imagine the four of us—Helena, Cole, Lucas, and me—filling up these spaces and leaving marks. I imagine Helena pressed against the glass in the morning, her hair catching sunlight like the first hour after a storm. The visual makes me pause on thestaircase. I reset myself, double-check every window, and then lock up tight and text Helena.
She doesn’t answer. She’s probably elbows deep in research, head buried in the world of the book she’s been writing. I pocket my phone and cut across the bluffs, following the path through wild heather and the ghost of brine.
Cole’s house is all the way at the end of a cove road, tucked behind a driftwood fence and sun-bleached by decades of coastal weather. It’s where we’ve all been living together while looking for a place big enough for a full pack. Inside, the air tastes like salt and cinnamon, a blend of his and Lucas’s baking habits. There’s laughter from the kitchen, but I don’t go in.
Instead, I find Helena in the living room, where she’s curled sideways on the sofa. She’s got one leg kicked over the armrest and a laptop balanced on her knee in a way that is not at all ergonomically healthy. The room is flooded with the weird, blue light of late afternoon. She’s wearing one of my shirts, half-buttoned, and her hair is still wet from a shower.
She looks like the universe’s most dangerous invitation.
I accept.
Helena doesn’t see me at first. I clear my throat. “If you keep making that face, you’ll get stuck like that.”
She doesn’t look up. “If you keep sneaking up on me, you’ll eventually give yourself a heart attack from my reaction.”
“It’s not sneaking if the door was open.”
She types another sentence, then shuts the laptop with a mock sigh. “Don’t be cute. It’s not in your contract.”
“Noted.” I settle into the armchair across from her, but she’s already opened the laptop again. Her fingers chase each other over the keys, fast and purposeful. “How’s it coming?”
Helena lifts her head. Her eyes are glassy from staring at this screen for far too long. “I’m going to send it to my agent tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning. Depends on whether I let myself editagain or just hit ‘send’ on this draft and deal with the fallout after.”
I lean forward. “Are you sure about that?”
Everything about this book deal happened quickly. After Helena became thetechnicallysecond Starling to buck against omega tradition in high society and royalty, all manner of media reached out to discuss opportunities. Helena took this one so she could tell her story her own way, and maybe help out other omegas along the way who are in similar positions.
“Nothing is ever sure.” She shrugs, a little too deliberate. “But it feels right. The story is… It’s not about us, specifically, but anyone with two neurons will recognize the blueprint. The point is, love shouldn’t be collateral in a political arms race. Packs shouldn’t be built out of obligation or advantage.” She glances up and meets my eyes. “You get it, right?”
She’s asking for my approval. Maybe even my blessing. I’m used to being the shield, not the advisor. But I also know what it’s like to live in a system that turns people into puzzle pieces. “Yeah, I get it.”
Helena smiles. “Good, because I quote you in Chapter Four.”
“Please tell me you left out the part where I almost tased a wedding guest at your brother’s wedding.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Zane. That’s the best part. It shows your devotion.” She closes the laptop again and hugs it to her chest. For just a flash, her bravado slips and I see her—the girl who ran away from the family estate and legacy.
What kind of legacy were they brewing, though?
I think the one Helena’s forming is far more honest.
I clear my throat. “What’s your plan for after the book releases?”
“Hide in this house and eat every Cornish pasty in a ten-mile radius.” Her lips twist. “I’ll take the brunt of it and let everyone else in the family scream themselves hoarse for a week or two.By then, it’ll be the spring news cycle, and no one will care except my father.” She lifts her chin. “He’s already read a draft. He said he’s proud.”
Funny. A few months ago, I think he would’ve lost his shit reading it.
