Page 385 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I know all of this from Thane, in pieces.

Maureen recovers by clearing her throat and reaching for the water pitcher, refilling everyone's glasses, including the ones that don't need to be refilled.

"Family," she finishes, softer.

I squeeze Wraith's arm where it's wrapped around my waist and try not to show how upset and angry I am at the injustice that Wraith's only father is dead and his only mother thinks he is.

He doesn't react. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him staring off into space as silverware and glasses clink.

Arthur puts his hand over Maureen's on the table, briefly, before clearing his throat. "So. Ivy. That livestream," he says, his eyes finding mine. "Thousands of live viewers, and millions of views on the uploads to social media. Unscripted and without contacting the legal team."

"That's me," I say with a sheepish grin. "A menace."

"It was the smartest move anyone in this situation has made," Arthur says flatly. "Including our lawyers, and I pay them a frankly criminal amount of money. The Demons released a statement an hour ago distancing themselves from the Kelly family's lawsuit. And Wade's personal accounts have gone dark."

He cuts a piece of roast.

"When the other side stops talking, it means someone told them to stop making it worse," Arthur continues. "Wade Kelly's counsel spent weeks building a narrative, and you dismantled it in five minutes from a couch." He points his fork at me, which I suspect is the Belmont equivalent of a hug. "You handled it well, kid. You're bold."

"She's terrifying," Valek agrees pleasantly, smiling proudly.

"The league review closes at the end of the month," Arthur adds, glancing at Thane, then at the silent hooded shape behind me before meeting my eyes again. "But the public pressure is doing half the work now. Keep your heads down, play your games, and let Wade's lawyers realize they're trying to fight an omega the entire internet has adopted."

"So we're winning," Whiskey says.

Arthur sighs. "Well. You're not losing," he says, his lips tugging into a slight smile. "In my experience, that's usually the same thing."

Wraith exhales into my hair, long and slow.

Nobody says much as Maureen stands and starts gathering plates, waving off Plague when he tries to help. Valek offers, too, and she actually lets him, saying it's only because he's such a gentleman, which lights up his whole face in his most devilish grin yet as he spins around to aim it straight at Plague.

Plague's eyes narrow.

Oh yeah. We're never going to hear the end of this.

We're still sitting in weird polite silence, interrupted only by the sound of an oven door opening, then closing, and a waft of cinnamon rolls into the dining room.

Whiskey's head snaps up like a hound.

"YO!" He slaps the table hard enough to rattle the candlesticks. "THERE'S MOTHERFUCKING PIE?"

Chapter 79

Wraith

"Hey bro, do you ever wonder if there are parallel universes where we're, like, fuckin' post-apocalyptic spec-ops alphas or somethin'?"

I turn my head to stare back at Whiskey.

What?

"I dunno man, I just look sick in this skull mask. And you'd rock a gas mask."

You play too many video games, I sign over my shoulder before turning back to the scruffy black cat hunkered by the dumpster behind the pack house.

"I'm literally a Marine, bro. I'm already halfway there."

I ignore him.