Episode 14 The Wolves at the （Studio） Door #2
Ginny’s chin tips up in a move that is achingly familiar, and her lips press into a firm line.
“They didn’t see you at the airport when you got home, Ren.
They didn’t see what they did to you. I did.
I did and it was worse than what happened before.
You’re my sister and I will not let anyone hurt you that way again. ”
This last she says while turning her burning eyes in our direction, the threat in them clear. And honestly, I’d let her stab me in the stomach before I’d raise a hand to Ren’s little sister. I think the others feel the same.
“We’re not planning on hurting her,” Forsythe says, softly, reassuringly.
The teenager shrugs. “Planned or not, it’s probably still gonna happen.
” Her expression turns shrewd. “I mean, I haven’t seen any statements from your pack about…
well, anything since you found out Ren’s your fated mate.
If you were planning on bonding her you’d have said as much by now, right?
Isadora is out there saying Ren’s manipulating you, and if she’s not then you picked her over your fated mate and you’ve said absolutely nothing to refute either of those claims.”
I glance at Forsythe a little concerned how he’s going to react to a child taking him to task, but he’s just nodding along like he agrees with her, even though I can feel his guilt through our pack bond.
“We’re waiting to say anything until we’ve worked out what we’re going to do with Florence,” he tells Ginny, likely hoping that will be enough to calm her somewhat.
“What you’re going to do with her? Like she’s a puppy in a divorce? A piece of baggage you have to carry around?”
“Gin,” Florence says softly, reaching out to pull her sister into her again.
“He means we need to have a conversation about what we’re going to do moving forward.
I’ve been avoiding it.” She says it to be reassuring to Ginny, I know that, but I can’t help the little jump in my chest, that spark of hope that she’s ready to actually have that conversation with us.
“Well, it’s not gonna happen now,” the teenager snorts. “She’s not going to drop everything just because you snap your royal fingers.”
Ren’s mouth kicks up at the corner, pride shining in her expression. “She’s right. I need to get this class started. If you’re staying, grab a mat, lay it at the back of the room. Stay out of the way of my normal students.”
She spins on her heel and drags her little sister away, while we rush to do as she ordered. We don’t want to waste whatever time she’s willing to give us. Of course she doesn’t realize that when it comes to this pack, if she gives us an inch, we’re going to take the whole damn world.
And that means her.
We’ve done this before, back on the show, by way of apology for the absolute tripe my pack spouted at her after the kissing challenge.
Back then it was a way to show the viewers that they still saw value in her, that they still enjoyed spending time with her.
But now? This is all about proving ourselves to her.
We’re here for her.
And we need her to see that.
An hour later, I’m sweating, but I feel amazing.
Not only from the yoga, but from being around Florence, from having her hands on me, even if it was only to gently correct my posture, my stance, to help me sink into stretches deeper.
After the class breaks, we stick around helping her to wipe down the mats and roll them up.
“When’s your next class?” Forsythe asks, even though we already know. It wasn’t hard to find it on their website.
“An hour and a half,” Ginny answers before our omega can lie.
“But I have to stick around the studio,” Ren says, shooting a glare at her little sister. “Watch the front desk-”
“I can do that!” A female voice says brightly.
Our omega’s glare turns on the beta bounding into the room wearing yoga pants and a sports bra.
“It's kinda my job.” She flicks her hand at Ren.
“Get out of here. Go hang out with your pack.” Her eyes widen and she belatedly bobs down into a curtsey.
“Sorry, your highnesses. Not used to doing that.”
“You’re not the only one.” Forsythe sounds amused, relaxed.
Maybe we should make yoga a part of his daily routine.
Though it might have more to do with being near Florence than anything.
He’ll probably never admit it, but he needs her as much as the rest of us do. Probably more.
We’ve been trying for years to convince him that duty to his grandmother isn’t the only thing that matters, but he can’t seem to accept it.
Florence might just be the thing that makes it stick.
“Please, cor mea,” he murmurs to her, holding out his hand palm up in invitation. “Sit with us, have a cup of coffee, talk with us. That’s all we’re asking for.” I can hear him add, for now, in his head.
Ren glances around the room, as if looking for support in denying us, but she finds none.
With a sigh and a shake of her head, she mutters, “Fine, but it needs to be quick.”
“Of course,” Court’s quick to agree. “We’ll have you back here in time for your next class.”