Chapter 12
Elliot
My phone vibrates so hard against the nightstand it nearly launches itself off the edge. I grope for it, an action that sends my water glass clattering to the floor. The glass doesn’t shatter, but my optimism does.
Forty-seven missed notifications. Seven from the estate security channel.
The first line of the topmost message: SECURITY brEACH. URGENT.
I sit up so fast my vision tunnels, heart punching a frenetic beat against my ribs. There’s the usual acid wash of adrenaline, but this time it’s laced with something sourer: embarrassment. I’m supposed to be the guy preventing these breaches, not the idiot reading about them in real time.
But nothing feels wrong. No alarm siren, no panicked footsteps down the carpeted hallway of Kellen’s manor. Just the antique grandfather clock in the sitting room down the hall, ticking smugly away.
I thumb open the security app and hit the feed for Kellen’s suite across the hall. The interior night-vision cam shows a burrito of duvets and a single shock of blond hair sticking out of the top: Kellen, asleep and alive.
I exhale. Barely.
The next message is from Nolan: I’m on it. Stay in room.
He never says more than three words in a text, so this is a dissertation. I check the timestamp: two minutes ago. He’s got a head start.
There’s a DM from an unrecognized number. The preview is a single sentence: How much is this worth to you?
I open it. There’s a video attached.
My stomach does a controlled descent down an elevator shaft.
I watch. It’s grainy, badly lit. A security cam angle from last night’s kitchen, timestamped 12:23 a.m. Kellen, in pajamas, rolling dough.
I am in the shot, too: leaning too close, smiling, arm lingering longer than strictly professional at his shoulder.
The part where I take a swipe of chocolate off his cheek with my thumb and lick it, as if this is a romcom and not a professional disaster, is preserved in high definition.
The video ends just as Kellen turns and whispers something that makes me laugh in a way I have never, ever laughed for anyone else, and then Piper and Nolan enter.
I already know the rest that’s not shown.
The night ended in a series of very pack-related kisses, not the Kellen-and-Piper-only relationship that the public is being fed.
The next message pops up before I can even process: I have more. If you want to keep this between us, wire 50K to the account below.
I keep scrolling. Social media is, as expected, a minefield.
No video up yet, but the usual “sources say” rumors are already mutating: Prince Kellen spotted with mysterious man.
Kellen’s royal obligations questioned as he steps back from public events.
Kellen’s family unhappy about latest ‘media scandal’.
I click through the rest, hunting for any mention of my own name, or Piper’s or Nolan’s.
None yet, but it’s a matter of time if this video has leaked.
But would it really be that bad if the world knew the four of us were a pack? I don’t think so, but I’m not royalty, let alone someone with a title that comes with certain expectations, so what do I know?
I slip into jeans and a t-shirt, pull on the suit jacket I’d thrown over the chair, and check the weapon in my holster. Maybe a little much for a digital blackmail, but there’s nothing like overkill to set a tone.
The hallway outside my door smells like lemon and floor polish. At the far end, the cleaning staffers are already at it, arms loaded with supplies and not a care for the digital flames licking at the estate’s reputation.
I cross the hall and knock on Kellen’s door, three short, sharp raps. No answer. I let myself in.
Kellen is sprawled diagonally across the California king. He doesn’t move when I step in, just snuffles and shifts, exposing an inch more of pale skin between t-shirt and waistband. I feel a sharp ache in my chest at how defenseless he looks.
He’ll hate what I’m about to tell him.
I take a minute to check the windows and the hidden cameras. All intact. Good.
I walk quietly up to his side and lean in. “Kellen. It’s urgent.”
He snorts, then grumbles still half-asleep, “Did you bake those scones like you said or were you lying to me again, Blaine?”
I ignore the jolt in my stomach at hearing my last name in his voice. “It’s not about scones. We have a problem. Wake up.”
He opens one eye, then the other. Bleary. Then he opens his blue eyes wide. “What kind?”
“Someone got into the security system. There’s video. Of us. Last night. They’re trying to blackmail me.” I flash him my phone screen with all the notifications. “They’ve sent word to the tabloids, but so far the video isn’t online.”
He props himself up on one elbow. “Like… of all of us?”
My ears go hot. “No. Of us baking. And maybe a little of me licking chocolate off your face. And maybe us all kissing Piper.”
He processes this slowly and then shrugs some. “What’s the threat? If the press leaks it, my parents will be forced to accept this pack.”
“Last I checked, your parents aren’t often forced to do anything.
” I pocket my phone. “If they’re not paid, this person will probably send the video to every news outlet that ever wrote the word ‘royal’ or ‘omega pop star’.
In the very least, Royal PR and Piper need a head’s up if you want this to play out. ”
He goes still. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit.”
He drags a hand over his face. “Do you think it’s someone in the house?”
“I’d bet my salary on it. I’ll find them and stop it before anything else happens.” I’m already moving back toward the door.
He gives me a long, level look. “You know what to do.”
I nod. “I need to see Nolan. Stay here.”
He snorts again, but he’s already reaching for his phone to doom-scroll the digital disaster in real time.
Nolan’s suite is two floors up, right next to Piper’s. I make my way there but run into Nolan in the hallway.
His eyes narrow on me. “I thought I told you to stay put.”
I glower at him. “You’re out of line. We work together.”
Nolan’s gaze flicker’s to Piper’s door. “Someone in this house is leaking information. The security breach was outgoing signals centered downstairs. There’s little cell service here. They breached internet security.”
I hand him my phone. “I’m being blackmailed directly on top of it. Money in exchange for this not to go beyond what’s already been released.”
He watches the video in silence, eyes flicking between my phone screen and his own, thumbs moving at surgical speed.
Nolan rocks back onto his heels. “The ransom’s amateur hour. Account’s a dead end. But the breach is inside, not remote.”
“How sure are you?”
He looks at me like I just asked if water is wet. “It was an isolated hobby camera inside the kitchen only Kellen goes into. Did he take it down when we finally went to sleep last night?”
My stomach drops to the floor. I’m usually on top of this shit. But Kellen and Piper, this entire pack, it’s knocking me off my game. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Nolan agrees. He taps out a command on his phone. “I’ll have server logs from external uploads on anything that came out of here in sixty seconds. Then we deal with them and this is over before it gets bad.”
I’d argue it’s already bad, but we can sort that later.
Nolan’s phone dings. He checks it, then holds the screen out to me. “There, Susie Jones. She’s a cleaner, and she’s even working today. Clocked in an hour ago.”
“Despite being here last night,” I comment.
Nolan moves toward the grand staircase that’ll take us down to the living spaces that are cleaned first. “Care to do the honors, or should I?”
Since I’m to blame for fucking this up—not taking the camera down as I usually do, letting Kellen have his viral channel in the first place despite being in blatant violation of Palace law—Nolan should lead the arrest.
I gesture forward. “Your show.”
Two minutes later, a panicked, trembling Susie Jones stands before us while we wait for more Ravenwood security team members to appear and escort Susie off the premises with no money and very little chance of ever working in an official household or government position ever again.
I watch Nolan give the final orders for security to take care of removing Susie and manage to just about bury my guilt when he turns to me. “I—”
Nolan raises his hand. “Don’t. I could’ve taken the camera down too, and I didn’t.”
That doesn’t resolve anything. “Between this and what happened at Reverie Rest, I’d say we’re doing a shit job, Pierce.”
Nolan nods and then starts pacing. “Agreed. We need to step it up.” He stops pacing. “But the crisis is handled for now… save what the king and queen might say, that is.”
“I’ll handle that one,” I offer. I’ve already been doing it for years.
“Thanks.” Nolan’s gaze flits upstairs to our clients. “We should give them the all-clear, although I’d bet my life Piper is still passed out cold.”
My eyes narrow. “I thought she didn’t sleep?”
Nolan shakes his head and smiles. “Not at night, she doesn’t.”
He heads for the stairs. I follow, but depart near Kellen’s suite. I do my normal perimeter check out of habit since I now have a pattern of missing things, apparently, but everything is fine.
Kellen’s room is still dim when I let myself inside again, but he’s sitting up now, still scrolling his phone. His expression is somewhere between resigned and… relieved?
He pats the mattress beside him. “You survived?”
I sit beside him. My hands are shaking. “It’s handled.”
He leans his head against my shoulder. “Good. Thank you.”
I close my eyes. “No more baking videos for a while, okay?”
He groans. “Okay.”
I move to grab his hand. He lets me. “I know. It’s just until the heat dies down.”
“Yeah.” His words are agreement, but his dejected tone is like a knife to my gut. He shakes his head. “Maybe you should have let it all go public. I don’t need a pack of royalty. I just need love.”
Love. That’s a strong word. A dangerous one. And we’ve not been using it.
So I pivot around it. “It’s better this way. You can release the information when you and we are ready.”
Kellen nods, and then inhales sharply and jumps off the bed. “Onward with the day, then.”
I rise off the bed too and stand watch while Prince Kellen Hale carries on with his day like nothing at all happened. I don’t have it in me to rein him in today.
If that’s the path he wants to take, let him take it so long as he’s safe.
And still in my pack.