Chapter 81

“Rhett-fucking-Butler,” Joy says.

We’re on the couch, my head in her lap, as she strokes my hair. We’re eating a plate of lemon cookies she baked.

She stuffs one into her mouth. “He’s an alpha,” she says, with her mouth full of cookie. “And you’re fated mates. He should have ripped off your clothes, made love to you on the stairwell, and made you beg him for forgiveness, if you get my drift!”

I fan myself and she giggles.

She sets down the cookie she’s just reached for. “He’s the real-deal alpha. He is Rhett Butler.” She tilts back her head and sighs loudly.

“Well, he didn’t say he doesn’t ‘give a damn.’”

“He didn’t have to,” Joy says. “Wow. I have a major crush now.”

“After you encouraged me to break it off.” I raise my eyebrow.

“I didn’t want you to give in and go back to a toxic relationship!”

Was it toxic?

It was uneven, maybe - unequal.

“Now, what do you think?” I steal the cookie Joy’s just picked back up.

“I think… I think, whatever it was before, you left things better.”

“We both still have the same problems, Joy. My father’s still in jail and he doesn’t have an heir. Actually,” I say. “Things are worse. My father’s in maximum security and he’s sick, I don’t have a wolf anymore, and Ansel’s dealing with his mess.”

“Karin, you know, you’re a little more like the old you,” she says.

“Something happened when I was with Ansel. I don’t feel quite as detached.”

“Maybe you’re healing your connection with Ada!”

“Is that even possible?”

We listen to the sound of a car horn outside.

“Typical,’ Joy says, rolling her eyes about the neighbors she dislikes. “I have no idea. Nobody ever talks about this stuff. I’d always heard you would die if you were severed from your wolf.”

“Thankfully, that didn’t happen. And I don’t know that I’m ‘healing,’ but I think maybe I’m adjusting. The emotions are slightly more present, but it’s like, I have to observe them. I’m not fully in them.”

I take a second to ponder what happened today. “And I think I’ve figured out how to be less indecisive, too,” I say. “I have to use more of my left-brain.”

The car horn blares again. Joy tenses. “If I had half a mind, I’d go out there,” she says. She looks down at me. “Sorry, Karin.” She gets another cookie and then hands me the plate. “Get these away from me,” she says.

I take it from her and let it rest against my stomach.

“So, is that how you made up your mind today,” Joy asks.

I take a bite of a cookie. “Yeah. I went back over what you told me, and thought, in kind of a systematic way, about what Dad would really want.”

Joy smiled down at me. “I’m so glad. It’s nice to see you back, a little. Even if you do have to go at things kind of, like -“

“Spock,” I say.

“Well, beam me up,” she says.

I eat my cookie, thinking about my new life, when Joy’s voice cuts through my internal analysis.

“Oh!” Joy’s looking down at her phone. “Oh!”

“What’s wrong?”

“It did get worse.” Joy clicks on the TV.

I sit up.

Ansel’s face is on the screen, underneath a breaking news headline that he’s been brought in for further questioning. The lead agent, Derrick Cooper, gives a brief statement to the news cameras, confirming that he was brought in, then released, with further investigation pending.

“They already questioned him,” I say. “All of us. The lead agent said they were done and would be in touch.”

“They got ‘in touch’ pretty fast, then. What the hell happened?”

I wish I knew.

Joy reminds me, it’s not my problem anymore.

When we get up the next morning, it’s clear that the situation is starting to look grave. We sit and eat breakfast while watching the news. Joy is gasping and I’m trying to make sense of it.

The protest outside the estate turned violent, and several of the protestors, along with a few of Ansel’s gammas, were injured in a skirmish overnight. Some of the commentators debate as to whether or not Ansel will have to be escorted from the premises for his own safety, although I know him well enough to know he would never run away.

It’s crickets from King David’s and Prince Edwin’s teams, like they want to distance themselves from him, but it seems to be fueling the tensions. Full Moon put out a statement condemning Ansel. Leaders from rival packs outside the alliance are also seizing on the moment to put out their own statements against him and Blue Moon.

Everything looks ready to unravel. I wonder out loud if the Alliance might fall.

And what will happen to Ansel?

“This is getting a little spooky,” Joy says. She gets up from the table. “I’m going to go get stocked up on groceries. You know how people get.”

I take a breath. Boy, do I. Years of civil war, riots, a coup d’etat - the first problem’s always the same: people panic-buying all the food.

Not long after Joy leaves, there’s a knock at the door.

I hesitate, then I go to look through the peephole. An older woman is standing outside on the stoop.

If I had Ada with me, she’d probably nudge me one way or the other. But I don’t. I take a deep breath and try to go through it rationally as the woman knocks again.

Probably harmless.

I unlock the door and stick my head out.

“Oh, hello. Are you Lady Karin,” the woman asks. She holds her hand for me to shake.

I take her hand.

“I’m Elizabeth Schneider,” she says. “I’m a reporter for the WBC.” She holds up a press badge.

“Oh,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” I begin to pull the door shut.

“Wait - please,” she says.

I stop, mid-close. Next door, Joy’s favorite neighbors are yelling at each other so loudly, the “fuck yous” are crystal clear, even to my human ears.

Elizabeth ignores them. “I won’t take much of your time,” she says. “But I think you have a right to tell your story - and I think people will want to hear it.”

My hand’s still holding the door mostly closed, primed to shut and lock it. “How’d you find me here?”

“You weren’t an easy woman to find,” Elizabeth says, “But I’ve been at this for decades. My Rolodex is full. Eventually, you come to somebody who knows somebody, who knows somebody, who’s heard something.” She glances at her watch.

“I don’t want to put my friend at risk,” I say.

“I can assure you that I don’t intend to print your location.” Her smile is easy-going.

“Motherfucking shit head!”

“Asshole!”

“They’re charming, aren’t they?”

“I’ve heard worse. I’ve covered politics for thirty years.”

I like her.

I open the door. “I’m not saying I’ll talk to you, but… you can come in,” I say.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth says.

I show her to the kitchen table and get both of us some tea.

Elizabeth Schneider is beautiful, with lovely silver hair and pink cheeks. She unbuttons her tan coat to reveal a white blouse with a print of delicate, yellow daisies.

“What do you want to know from me,” I ask, sitting down.

She sips her tea. “I’d hoped to learn more about your true background, in general. Of course, your relationship with Prince Ansel and your reaction to what’s been said about you. Maybe your thoughts on everything happening now.”

I purse my lips. “If there’s something I don’t want to answer?”

“You don’t have to answer, of course.”

“Ms. Schneider,” I say. “It would be nice to speak out about some things, but my main concern is actually Prince Ansel. He hasn’t deserved any of this and it looks like… it seems like things are getting ready to erupt.”

“It’s stunning,” Elizabeth says. She takes another drink. “I was quite enjoying our few years of - relative, I should say - peace and quiet. Even for a reporter, this kind of thing gets old.”

I look down at my teacup. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Do you know why they brought Ansel in yesterday? He’d already been interviewed at the manor earlier. I was there.”

Elizabeth nods. “The investigators are keeping it quite tight, but one of my colleagues is saying they found some evidence on the premises that… makes it look bad for Sir Ansel.”

“I don’t see what they could have found.” I shake my head. “There’s got to be some mistake.”

“Do you mind if I turn on my recorder?”

“Okay,” I say. “You can turn it on.”

She takes out a small black recorder and lays it close to me on the table. I look down at the red “on” light.

“Why don’t we just continue our conversation as we were?” She clenches her hands, almost as though she’s nervous.

“Alright,” I say.

“Anything you can say about the situation could be helpful.” She leans in. Her face looks drawn, with pursed lips and a wrinkled brow. Her pupils are dilated.

I blink. There’s something I can’t figure out.

There’s something… wrong.

But she’s lovely and kind. My logical brain can’t make sense of it.

I clear my throat and try to press on. “Well, um, I -”

I feel a sharp sting in my thigh. I look down. Then up. Elizabeth’s expression is grim. Then I see it. She has a syringe in her hand.

I start to feel myself slump to the floor, before everything goes dark.