Chapter 23
Bastion
One good thing about Ranier—although maybe not for his own sake—is that you always know where to find him.
Especially on a day like this, when the house is quieter than a graveyard and the sun’s not even up.
If he’s not in the gym torturing himself, he’s in the study, doing a power pose behind that gigantic desk his dad imported from somewhere even more obsessed with status than he is.
I don’t even knock. I just walk in. The door’s already cracked, and the smell of black coffee and campfire-apple cologne hits me before I clear the threshold.
Ranier’s there, of course. He’s reading two newspapers at once and working his phone with one hand.
The multitasking is a flex, but the subtle twitch in his jaw gives away that he’s actually not as chill as he wants me to think.
Ranier glances up. His blue eyes read every intention on my face before I even open my mouth.
“Silverwood,” he says, like it’s both a greeting and a warning.
I lean against the sideboard, arms folded, and let the silence do its thing. If there’s one thing Ranier hates more than a breach of etiquette, it’s dead air.
He tries to fill it. “You’re up early. Thought you’d be with your—” he hesitates just long enough to sell the disdain, “omega.”
I smirk. “She’s still sleeping, actually. It’s exhausting, not dying of shame every time you’re in the same house as her.”
Ranier folds the newspaper with military precision and gives me his full attention. “Let’s just get to it, Bastion. What do you want?”
I match his tone. “Straight to business? All right. I’ll make this fast. We’re not going through with the plan.”
He blinks, one that says “you’re not serious” and “I’m about to kill you” at the same time. “What plan?”
“The one where we freeze Emery out until the Council yanks her and we all go back to being three miserable assholes.”
Ranier sets his jaw. “The plan was to do what was necessary. If that means making her uncomfortable—”
“She’s been nothing but uncomfortable since she got here,” I cut in. “And you know it. You act like we’re doing her a favor, like we’re the ones being forced, but she’s the one the media’s torching. Have you seen the headlines this morning?”
Ranier picks up the phone, flicks his thumb, and tosses it on the desk. “I saw. ‘Commoner Omega Ruins Royal Legacy.’ ‘Bloodless Pack Weakens Council.’” He snorts. “Standard clickbait.”
“Standard clickbait that’s trending in four provinces. Do you think the Council’s just going to let that slide? They’re circling. They’ll pull her if we don’t do something.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” he says, too quickly.
I narrow my eyes. “You want her gone that bad?”
He leans back, steeples his fingers, and looks at me with the measured indifference of someone who’s practiced this expression since birth. “I want what’s best for the pack. You know that.”
“Bullshit. You want what’s best for you. And you’re scared that she might actually belong here.”
Ranier bristles. Just a fraction, but enough for me to savor it.
He recovers, voice cool as winter. “What are you even saying, Bastion? You and Wyatt have already crossed every line with her. You want a ceremony? You want to make it public? Fine. Go ahead. It’s not my reputation on the block.”
“Could be.” I let the words hang.
He goes very still. “Do you think I’d ever claim an omega who—”
“Who what? Isn’t from the right family? Doesn’t have the right degree?” I shrug. “Emery’s got more backbone than most of the girls we grew up with. Maybe more than you, if we’re being honest.”
His face goes pale. “You done? My father didn’t care about anything but himself. I’m not him.”
I turn, and for the first time, I see that he might actually believe it. But he’s still wrong. “You’re worse, man. Because you do care. You care so much it makes you a fucking maniac.”
Ranier shoots me a grimace like he’s weighing the cost of punching me through the window. “This isn’t about me.”
“It is, though,” I say. “It’s always been about you.”
He walks around the desk but stops just out of reach. The air between us is so charged I could light a match with my breath.
“You want me to be the villain here,” he says, voice low. “But the second I let Emery in, the second I let you and Wyatt in—what happens to this pack? What happens to us? We’re already a laughingstock. You want us to be a cautionary tale, too?”
I hold my ground. “I want you to stop pretending you don’t want Emery. I want you to stop acting like we’re not all in this together.”
Ranier laughs, but it’s bitter. “I don’t want her. I want a future.”
“Then maybe stop tanking it at every turn,” I say. “Because if you don’t make a move, someone else will. That’s what you’re really afraid of, isn’t it?”
He glares. “Do you think you’ve got me figured out?”
I walk right up to him, until we’re eye to eye. “I think you’re terrified. I think you know that if you let her in, if you mark her, if you do the thing you’ve been bred to do—you’ll never be able to walk it back. She’ll own you. And you’d rather die than let anyone have that much power over you.”
For a second, Ranier looks like he might hit me. Instead, he drops his eyes.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.
“Sure I do,” I say, softer now. “Because I’m the same.”
He looks up, surprised.
I let that land, then step back. “Wyatt’s in, by the way. He already told her how he feels.”
Ranier doesn’t answer.
I head for the door, but stop with my hand on the knob. “You can keep playing tough guy, but it’s a waste of time. We’re all already hers.”
He doesn’t turn, but his voice chases me out. “You tell anyone about this—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “You’ll ruin my life.”
Already nearly did.
I close the door behind me, but the conversation keeps spinning in my head.
Ranier never lets go of anything. Not pride, not grudges, and certainly not the expectation that if he just works hard enough, the world will bend to his will.
But this? This is different. Emery is different. She’s like a hand grenade someone tossed into the middle of our perfectly laid plans. And even now, after all the fighting, I don’t know if that scares me or sets me free.
I walk back to my room. Emery’s scent still lingers everywhere.
I can no longer imagine a world where she’s not in my life. And I never want to.
I wait until the sun’s fully up before I knock on Emery’s door. She’s awake, sitting on the floor with a sketchpad balanced on her knees. She looks up, eyes clear, like she’s been expecting me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
She doesn’t get up, but pats the space next to her. I sit. The air in here is different—lighter, even after the last few days. Her scent is still on everything, but it’s no longer the full wall it was during her heat.
“You okay?” Emery’s brows are stitched together. She runs the back of her hand against my cheek. “You look like you were up all night.”
I smile some and capture her hand in mine. I place a quick kiss to the back of her hand. “Yes, I’m okay. Can I see what you’re working on?”
“Sure!” Emery lifts the sketchbook and for a moment her smile falters. I see why.
She’s drawn the three of us—me, Wyatt, Ranier—all staring at the same moon, faces blank but hands reaching out. At the bottom in tiny print she’s written, No one wins unless we all do.
“I hope we can convince Rainer,” Emery whispers. Like if she speaks it too loudly the universe might listen or, worse, Rainer might hear.
“He will come around.” I wrap an arm around my omega and pull her in close. “He’s not a total idiot.”
Emery giggles. “You sure about that?”
I glance at the sketch once more. “I am.”
I hope I’m right.