Chapter 28 Long Night #2
It also raises serious questions about the money situation.
They were consistently using Reverie's earnings from her various odd jobs around Oakridge, making her pay for her own basic necessities and clothing, treating her like an unpaid household manager and emotional support animal.
So where was their money? What were they actually doing with their own finances?
Were they laundering it through seemingly legitimate business fronts?
Were they involved in something illegal that required hidden identities and complex financial structures to avoid detection?
The business they supposedly run together—Thorne-Winters Capital Management—has virtually no online presence beyond a basic website with vague descriptions of 'investment services' and 'wealth management.'
No client testimonials. No detailed service offerings. No regulatory filings that I can find. It's a shell.
A front for something else.
I don't disturb Nash now.
He's in the zone, completely focused, probably cross-referencing multiple databases simultaneously and following digital trails through public records and financial disclosures and social media archives.
He's good at this—better than most professional investigators I've worked with.
I'll look into it myself tomorrow morning.
Run my own searches through different channels.
Because if Reverie gains more popularity—which she absolutely will, her content is engaging and authentic and exactly what people crave—they might target her.
Try to use her newfound success against her somehow, extort money, leverage her growing platform for their own purposes, or worse.
I have to be ready for every possible scenario.
Have to protect her from threats she doesn't even know exist yet.
I'm about to head into my own room—the one at the end of the hall with a view of the snow-covered pines—when I hear it.
A squeal.
High-pitched and delighted and unmistakably Reverie.
My protective instincts flare immediately.
I change direction without thinking, heading toward her room—the largest bedroom in the cabin, the one with the ensuite bathroom and the balcony overlooking the forest.
I need to make sure she's okay. That nothing's wrong. That she's safe.
Her door is open a few inches. I can see light spilling into the hallway, hear her voice animated and bright.
I push the door open slightly more and see her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the enormous bed, practically glowing with excitement. She's holding her old phone—the scratched iPhone 11 with the cracked case—and talking into it while showing her new pink iPhone 18 to the camera.
She's doing an unboxing live stream. Using her old phone to film because the new one is the subject of the video. Smart.
"So this is the new iPhone 18 Pro Max in rose gold," she's saying, holding it up to show all angles. "And you guys, it's SO pretty. Like, unreasonably pretty. I can't stop looking at it. It catches the light and just sparkles."
She talks about where she got it—TechSavvy Electronics in Millbrook, gives River and his shop a genuine shout out with enthusiasm that will probably send business his way.
Then she recaps the day's adventures—the horseback riding, the race, meeting Snowfall, the lodge tour.
"And we're staying at Winter Pine Lodge tonight," she continues, panning the camera to show the luxurious room.
"Look at this place! It's absolutely gorgeous!
I'm going to sleep so early tonight because I want to get up super early tomorrow to do Pilates on the deck.
Can you imagine? Morning Pilates with a view of snow-covered pine trees? It's going to be divine!"
She talks about the clothes she picked up—mentions a bubblegum pink workout set with ornament prints that she's excited to wear, talks about the cashmere sweaters we bought her from the lodge's boutique.
Then she pauses, clearly reading comments scrolling past on her screen.
She laughs nervously—a sound that immediately puts me on alert.
"Well, yeah... this is the first time having a good... supportive pack?"
She stutters slightly, her usual confidence faltering.
"My last pack... well, they weren't the best for me. I'm coming to realize that now because, well... they hated everything I did. Everything I wanted to do. Every dream I had."
She laughs but it's hollow. Sad. She looks down at her hands, fidgeting with the phone case.
"This is actually the first real day I've gotten to spend with all three of them together.
Nash, Grayson, and Theo. And wow..." Her voice softens with genuine emotion.
"I've never felt so alive. So free and full and supported.
Do you know how incredible it feels to be supported properly?
To have people actually encourage you instead of tear you down? "
She takes a shaky breath.
"I don't have to overthink with them. I don't have to calculate every word or action. I just experience the moment in real time instead of constantly wondering 'what if I do this wrong' or 'what if they get mad at me for that.' It's weird... and so amazing. So different from what I'm used to."
Rage simmers hot in my gut. Her old pack did a number on her. Made her afraid to exist authentically. Made her second-guess every natural instinct. I want to find them and make them understand what real fear feels like.
She laughs again, shaking off the heavy emotion.
"Haha, I'm probably making the mood weird and emotional, so I'll end the live here! But thank you all so much for following me on this journey! I'm officially calling this the Knotty Christmas Series!"
She grins at the camera.
"Please follow me because I'm hoping to go on plenty of dates with my Alphas over the next few weeks! You guys can get into the Christmas spirit with us and maybe get ideas for things to do with your own packs! More adventures coming soon!"
She waves enthusiastically and ends the live stream.
The screen goes dark.
Then she sighs—deep and exhausted—and puts her hand over her chest like she's trying to calm her racing heart.
I lean against the doorframe, content to just watch her for a moment. She seems deep in thought, processing the emotional vulnerability she just shared with thousands of strangers.
Then she looks back casually—probably intending to grab something from the nightstand—and realizes I'm standing there.
Her eyes widen comically. She freezes mid-reach.
Then very slowly, obviously, with zero subtlety whatsoever, she checks me out from head to toe.
Her gaze starts at my face, travels down to linger on my bare chest and the water droplets still clinging to my skin, traces the definition of my abs, stops pointedly at the white towel wrapped low around my hips—dangerously low—then quickly jerks back up to my face with a blush spreading rapidly across her cheeks like wildfire.
Right. I'm only wearing a towel.
That probably just occurred to her conscious brain even though her eyes were definitely appreciating the view.
Good to know the attraction isn't one-sided.
Fair is fair.
I let myself check her out properly now that we're both fully aware of each other's presence and the somewhat compromising state of undress we're both in.
She's wearing one of the new cozy cashmere sweaters we bought her today at the lodge boutique—a cream-colored one that's deliberately oversized and looks impossibly soft, the kind of fabric that makes you want to touch it just to feel the texture.
It's falling off one shoulder to expose her delicate collarbone and the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.
And she's wearing cute knitted socks in a cable pattern that go all the way up past her knees to her mid-thigh, leaving just a few tantalizing inches of bare creamy skin visible before the sweater hem begins.
I dare to wonder—can't help wondering even though it's probably going to torture me—if she's wearing anything underneath that oversized sweater. Panties? A bra? Nothing at all?
The thought sends blood rushing south with alarming speed and intensity.
No. Don't go there. You have to actually sleep tonight and you're not doing it with a raging painful hard-on that won't go away.
"Was I disturbing you?" she asks quietly, nervously biting her bottom lip in a way that draws my attention directly to her mouth.
I shake my head firmly.
"No. Not at all. I wanted to check on you before I go lay down for the night. Make sure you're settling in okay and have everything you need."
"Oh!" She seems relieved by that answer, her shoulders relaxing visibly.
Then she picks up her new phone from where it's resting on the plush white bedspread, now safely enclosed in a clear glitter case that catches the light. She holds it up to show me with obvious pride radiating from her entire posture.
"Look! Isn't it so pretty? Everyone in the comments was saying it's sold out everywhere for weeks before its even come out thanks to the preorders and people are stalking the website daily waiting for restocks!"
I grin despite my bone-deep exhaustion.
"I'm glad you like it. You deserve nice things, Reverie. You deserve to have technology that works properly and supports what you're trying to build."
She nods swiftly, clutching the phone like it's something precious and irreplaceable.
Then she yawns—wide and completely unable to suppress it, her jaw cracking slightly.
"You going to work out in the morning?" she asks once the yawn finally passes and she can speak again.
"Yeah, probably around 0600. Can't break routine even on vacation. Discipline is discipline."
I pause deliberately, then ask, "Are you still planning to do Pilates on the deck tomorrow morning like you mentioned in the live stream?"
She laughs nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in that self-conscious way she has.