Chapter 22
Piper
I’m crumpling yet another page of notebook paper when my phone buzzes, then goes full on jackhammer in the space between me and the couch cushion. I stare at it, daring it to self-destruct. It does not, but the screen is strobing with notifications.
EXCLUSIVE: PIPER SUMNER—SECRET OMEGA?! Medical records leaked!
ROYAL ROMANCE IN SHAMBLES—PRINCE KELLEN’S ‘MATE’ HIDES TRUE NATURE
SHOCKING TWIST: POP STAR OMEGA REJECTS ALPHA SUITORS—HERE’S WHY
And my favorite, for sheer efficiency:
SUMNER FAKED HER STATUS: Fans Betrayed!!!
My mouth goes dry. There’s a sour, chemical taste behind my tongue. I’m so busy not breathing that it takes me a second to realize Kellen’s moved next to me, eyes wide.
His voice is hushed and heartbreakingly soft. “Piper?”
I shove my phone at him, hard enough that he fumbles it. “Guess we made the news.”
He reads for maybe a second before his jaw snaps shut with a click. “Fuck.” He glances at Elliot and Nolan. “Who the hell leaked this?”
Nolan starts pacing the length of the living room in the manor estate. “Do not answer anything. Not media, not DMs. Not even Raelynn.”
I nod and then toss the phone toward a lone, unoccupied chair twenty feet away. I want nothing to do with it or the information it brings.
Kellen takes out his own phone and starts scrolling faster than I can process, but I know the story by heart: A “source” leaked medical documents showing my omega status, with handy screenshots and hospital badges blurred but absolutely real.
Every tabloid in the hemisphere wants to know why I “lied” and whether I used my music to “seduce” an entire royal family.
Because of course.
“Does Raelynn know?” I croak, voice barely above a whisper.
Nolan’s mouth twitches. “If she does, she’s already prepping a denial.”
I rub my nose, trying to block the scents filling the room.
Nolan’s anxious burning wood smoke makes my eyes water, while Kellen’s ocean-pine hits the back of my throat like I’ve swallowed cologne.
My hand flies to my neck. The cherry-vanilla I’ve spent years hiding is now seeping from my skin, sweet and unmistakable.
Kellen’s nostrils flare. Nolan won’t look at me.
Kellen pockets his phone and then takes my hands in his. “If you want to deny or spin this, I’ll help you. We’ll help you.”
“We’ll do more than help,” Nolan says, turning from the window. “We’ll burn them to the ground.”
I want to laugh, but my brain is playing four chess games with itself and all of them end in stalemate. “We can’t just ignore this.”
“Technically,” Kellen says, “I can do whatever I want. I’m not the one with a new album and tour coming up.”
He means it as a joke, but it’s like his reminder is the catalyst for more notifications as they storm off my phone. This time I even receive a couple FaceTime attempts. I ignore all of it, staring instead at the note I’d been scribbling for my next song: please just let me breathe for a minute.
How apt.
Elliot sits down on my other side. The faint scent of sandalwood and leather drifts from him, and I find myself counting my breaths—in for four, out for four—matching the steady rise and fall of his chest beside me. “We have to assume the palace already knows.”
“They’re probably the source,” Nolan growls.
It’s a decent bet. My entire relationship with Kellen has been a series of negotiated peaces and plausible denials, each one more fragile than the last. But this is different. This is medical records. This is years of perfectly calibrated ambiguity evaporating in an hour.
I blink hard. “I’m not ashamed to be an omega.” Which is true. But it was one secret of my personal life I was really rather hoping to keep.
Kellen cups my cheek, and even though he looks ready to tear someone’s throat out, he smiles. “Good, you shouldn’t be.”
Nolan’s phone rings. His posture stiffens when he glances down at it. “We’ve got company. Kellen’s parents have sent more Ravenwood Shield to secure the property.”
Elliot checks his own phone, then nods to Kellen. “Royal comms are blowing up. Your father wants to talk.”
“Of course he does,” Kellen mutters. “Can’t have the prince consorting with a ‘predatory omega.’”
I blink at that, because it hadn’t occurred to me how this plays in the weird, regressive corners of royal discourse. “They’ll try to break us up.”
The room falls silent for half a beat.
Kellen meets my gaze. “They can try.”
Nolan, to his credit, is already in full tactical mode, checking the windows and securing the doors. “If they want you at the palace, we need to leave now.”
“Piper’s not going alone,” Kellen says. “I’ll come.”
Elliot shrugs, already in his jacket. “You’re not going without me, either.”
I stand, every muscle rubberized. “What about my—”
“Bag’s already packed,” Nolan says. He’s just always that ready for anything, even a hot exit from my own nest in my own pack’s house.
None of us want this. But only a few powers move with more authority than packs and their bonds, and unfortunately, the king and queen are two of them.
For a second, I want to argue all of this, but my brain is still about six steps behind my body. All I can manage is a limp, “Okay.”
The manor’s foyer is pure chaos, with two Ravenwood agents at the door and a blacked-out SUV idling in the driveway. I don’t even remember walking to the car, but suddenly we’re inside, Nolan up front with the driver, me flanked by Kellen and Elliot in the back.
Kellen’s hand covers mine, thumb tracing circles on my knuckles. “It’ll be okay, Piper.”
I nod, then realize I’m crying. Not the big, operatic tears of tabloid photos but the kind that just leak out, slow and inevitable. I swipe at them, embarrassed.
It felt like everything was just finally falling into place. I never expected a pack, but we made the best out of a PR situation and actually fell in love. Bonded as a pack. And then my music finally feels like it’s heading back in the right direction for me as well.
And now this.
Even if I walk out into public and own the fact that not only am I an omega, but I lied about who I am to hide it, and I’d still have to face this: Kellen’s parents don’t want someone less than royalty or high society as a match for their son.
I am neither. And neither are Elliot and Nolan.
The drive to the palace is only five minutes across the grounds, but it feels like a commute across the actual void.
Kellen is scrolling his phone now. His jaw flexes with every new notification.
Elliot holds my hand, not speaking, but every so often he’ll squeeze like he’s trying to anchor me in place.
Halfway there, Nolan gets a call on his earpiece. He listens, says nothing, and then turns to us, face grim. “Change of plan. The king and queen are meeting us at the gates. They’ve brought their own detail.”
“Let me guess,” I say, “they want to search me for bugged microphones and blackmail devices?”
Nolan’s lips twitch. “Wouldn’t put it past them.”
I’m not allowed to approach the gates myself—protocol, optics, whatever—but when we pull up, the king’s personal secretary is already there, along with a phalanx of palace guards. Kellen gets out first, and when I move to follow, Elliot puts an arm across my chest, gently but unbreakable.
“We’ll go together,” he says.
Nolan gets out last, jaw clenched.
The king and queen are standing under the portico like they’ve never in their lives stood outside in weather before. There’s a brief standoff while the two security details eye each other, and then the queen gestures us forward with the smooth efficiency of a snake lowering its jaw.
“Miss Sumner,” she says, and I can’t tell if it’s relief or contempt or both. “How considerate of you to come so quickly.”
My mouth is still sandpaper. “Did I have a choice?”
She smiles thinly. “We’ll speak in the study.”
I follow, conscious of every camera, every palace staffer pretending not to stare. Kellen is beside me, Elliot and Nolan close behind.
The study is soundproofed and smells faintly of expensive gin. The queen sits and gestures for me to do the same. “You’re probably wondering why we brought you here.”
“Because you think I leaked the story,” I say. “Or because it makes for a better narrative if you say so.”
She steeples her hands. “We’ve been accommodating, Miss Sumner. You’ve had your little romance, your press moments. We respected your privacy even when the four of you continued to maintain this forbidden pack structure.”
“Mother—” Kellen starts, but the queen raises her hand.
Because in this moment, she’s not Kellen’s mother. She is the queen. There is, and has always, been a difference, and I’d have done better to learn this much earlier.
“These conversations are over,” she declares. “Not only have you hidden this key piece of information, Piper, which can only be seen as a way to manipulate the Palace, the four of you have hidden what is clearly a forming pack. Both are unacceptable.”
Kellen is silent, but the air around him is charged. “Piper didn’t leak anything. And even if she did, it’s her information to share. She’s not manipulating anyone.”
The queen stares down her nose at all of us.
“The way this plays out in the press is far more than this family can handle at this point. Perhaps it was our misstep thinking a PR relationship could be mutually beneficial. At this point, it’s been anything but.
This family cannot take on the reputation weight of you bonding with a pack of commoners. ”
The way she says it indicates she’d like that to be the end of the conversation. It probably should be the end of the conversation.
But Kellen doesn’t back down. “I’m not breaking this pack up for centuries of tradition that were built to keep the wrong people in power. This pack was built on love and trust. I’m not willing to betray that for your orders.”
My heart sings with Kellen’s declaration, but the queen stares daggers at her son before turning that gaze onto me.