5. Sophia

Islump against the door to my apartment, and the moment it clicks shut, the whirlwind of the day”s events spirals through my mind. What an infuriating man! I don’t even know where to start.

Should I be fuming at his failure to tell me about the locations of the day”s agenda, or should I be soaring on cloud nine for navigating through his hurdles like a magical mage?

My fingers drum on the wooden surface behind me, caught between a grin and a grimace. Tonight, I”m going to dine with the alpha of all Faulkner Enterprises, and I can”t help but wonder if there will be anything about this family that I can stomach.

The wind chime ring of my phone pulls me from my reverie. It”s Michael, my brother, who probably owes his life to programs like those funded by the Moonlight Foundation and the Faulkner family. Well, if that isn”t perfect timing.

”Hey, Fee.” Michael”s voice is always gentle and soothing. He saw a lot of bad stuff in his time on the streets, and it seems like nothing now really fazes him.

”Misha,” I exhale, letting his calm wash over me. ”You won”t believe the day I”ve had.”

As I recount the events—the unexpected tennis match, the Earl”s roving hands, the oddly amusing lunch with Baroness Eversong and how Oliver Faulkner seemed to enjoy watching me under pressure, Michael listens with patience. Getting to say what I feel is cathartic.

”And to top it off,” I add, half-laughing despite myself, ”I”m supposed to make nice-nice with his family tonight. Me! A vegetarian in a den of wolves. I hope there”s a salad.”

Michael chuckles softly. ”Sounds like you”re handling it better than most would.”

I pause, considering his words. He”s right; I”d found my footing somewhere amidst the chaos today. ”Between us? The worst part is, I”m sort of…attracted to him. He”s absolutely not my type. He”s arrogant and careless, but still, there”s something sort of sad about him,” I concede.

”Maybe he”s insecure, scared, and wounded so badly that he doesn”t know who to trust? Money doesn”t insulate you from despair,” Michael suggests gently.

His words give pause to my whirling thoughts. There”s truth in them—a hint of something in Oliver beneath the surface bravado that tugs at me—a vulnerability that he hides behind amber eyes and a commanding presence.

”Hey,” Michael adds, ”Wear your red dress. It always makes you feel powerful.”

”Thanks, Misha,” I say with a promise to call later after tonight”s ordeal.

I’ve barely hung up when the phone chimes again.

“Ms. Carter,” says Kray. “How was your day? Dinner plans?”

How did he find out? I just found out myself.

“I’ve been invited to the estate tonight to meet the elder Lord.”

“Excellent. My good friend Howard is the consummate host. Take a look around while you’re there. They have a lovely home. And be sure to send them all my greetings.”

“Of course, sir.”

He clicks off, and I suppress a shiver. What was that about? A show of his power? If he expects me to spy, don’t beat me to the punch. I’m feeling like a pawn on Kray’s invisible chessboard. I’m not sure I want to put any more pieces under his control, even if it means I win.

I slip into the red silk dress. Chosen for its understated elegance and how it drapes over my figure, it feels like a rebellion against whatever assumptions these royals may make about me. My heels elevate me not just in height but in confidence. Yes, I want a bigger, better life, and I will work to achieve it.

Lord Faulkner, do your worst. I”m ready.

I step out into the cooling evening air, where the sleek limousine waits to ferry me into a world that is not yet mine. Oliver emerges from the back driver”s side door to meet me, and I catch a fleeting look of surprise in his eyes before he schools his features into indifference.

”You clean up well,” he remarks, and despite the grudging tone, warmth blooms in my chest at his words. But then he smirks, ”This is an unusual honor, I hope you know. But please, remember the rules. My family is never to be discussed. Understood, Carter?”

”The name is Ms. Carter,” I say, reminding him of another rule.

He cocks his head in agreement as he closes the door for me. ”Point to Ms. Carter.”

I think about Michael”s insight—given the pressure Oliver is under, his brusqueness might create distance when proximity feels too dangerous. And with just the two of us in the back seat, things do feel a little dangerous. We drive to the Faulkner estate in a silence that hums with tension.

I can”t help but notice that his dark gray suit is made of lightweight cashmere and fits him like a glove. And his scent. It”s so intoxicating that I can”t help myself and let loose a tiny murmur of pleasure. He looks at me with a half smile. I”m so embarrassed I practically hold my breath the rest of the way.

In the library, Irene greets us with a warm smile but wary eyes. The resemblance to her famous mother is unmistakable—the same high cheekbones and graceful composure. Her auburn hair is wrapped into a tight updo that shines in the warm evening light. Around her neck hangs an emerald pendant, a stylized circle, almost like a serpent, interlaced with claws, a reminder that she is a dangerous werewolf, too.

But there”s something about Irene that seems hesitant, as if each movement is a careful step taken to avoid unseen tripwires. She leads us to their father, the famed Lord Howard Faulkner, III, ensconced in his wheelchair amidst shelves heavy with books. The disease is robbing him of muscle mass but not of mind. His body may be frail, but his gaze is sharp—assessing and piercing.

”Ms. Sophia Carter,” he begins with a voice that commands attention despite its weakened state, ”you have earned an admirer in the Earl of Cairn. A powerful admirer, I might add. And Oliver has also spoken highly of your contributions today.”

I nod, offering a surprised but polite smile to Oliver.

”Thank you, Lord Faulkner,” I reply. ”I”m honored to assist with the Moonlight Foundation”s efforts. It”s an organization whose cause is near to my heart. I”m very grateful that your son has agreed to let me play a part in your good work.”

Howard’s eyes flick between Oliver and me, reading the mood with obvious intelligence while we stand there, both coolly trying to pretend this isn”t the most awkward situation ever. ”Call me Howard, Sophia. This is a family dinner, not an affair of state.”

”Sophia also came highly recommended by Councilman Kray,” Oliver says, which is true but feels aimed to deflate the previous compliment.

Howard cackles. ”Gerard Kray is a discerning old S.O.B. How do you think he got so rich? I did everything I could to prevent that,” he laughs. ”Wheel me to the dining room, Ollie. I feel like I could eat a whole cow tonight. And you, Sophia, can tell me all about working for Kray. I”ve heard he”s generous with his employees, in truth.”

The dining room is nothing short of a scene plucked from a regal past, with its gleaming silver and crystal reflecting the soft glow of candlelight. Howard presides at the head of the table, an indomitable figure despite his frailty. As plates of sukiyaki steak are served to others, I”m presented with a beautiful arrangement of marinated tofu, rice and pickled vegetables. My smile is genuine as I thank Howard, who mentions with a chuckle that their chef, a mermaid-shifter hailing from the coasts of Japan, has been on a relentless crusade to introduce more greens into his diet.

”She says it”s for my health,” he muses with an amused glance my way. ”But between you and me, Ms. Carter, I think she just enjoys watching me squirm at the sight of kelp.”

The atmosphere is a curious blend of reverence and tension. I can feel the weight of history pressing in on me, a reminder that this isn”t just any family dinner—it”s an induction into a legacy that spans centuries. But Oliver continues to watch me to the point where I begin to feel self-conscious about genuinely enjoying his father”s company. Am I not allowed to politely humor an old man? Does that cross some line I can”t see?

Howard”s voice, though weakened by illness, still commands attention as he delves into the Gala”s significance within the Faction hierarchy.

”The Moonlight Gala,” he begins, his gaze sweeping over each of us, ”is more than just an evening affair; it”s our declaration to uphold peace and stability among Ravencourt”s back-stabbing Factions. That was my dear departed wife”s genius—to understand that helping others brings out the best in even the worst of people.” He laughs at his own wit, then goes on to recount tales of tension with the Krays as we eat.

”Gerard Kray,” he says with a wry smile, ”has always been more reptile than man, but I still call him a friend. Perhaps Sophia knows differently?”

I mime locking my mouth with a key, which delights Howard.

”Yes, let”s leave some things unsaid,” he chuckles, and sets his napkin on the table, motioning to a servant, another Lycan, to clear his plate. ”But I do want to alert you of another matter. There are those, as my infirmity has become more pronounced, who see this year”s Gala as an opportunity to divide us. We start planning a year in advance, and I hope Oliver told you we”ve received threats. You”d think those lousy Rebellion crazies would be protesting, but in truth, our Gala does a lot to help the downtrodden of Ravencourt. I”ve had my chief security officer looking into it for a while. All he can come up with is a shadowy organization known as the Shadow Covenant. Has Kray mentioned it to you, Sophia?”

Irene startles and begins to dab her napkin at her mouth.

I notice Oliver’s body tense beside me. The shift is subtle but unmistakable. This is not a topic either wants to be shared at the dinner table.

”Father, I”ve looked into these rumors. It’s just some occult-based culture club—not a real threat. The Gala will be a high-security event. I”ve got it under control.” He looks over at Irene, who has already pushed away from the table and placed herself behind her father’s wheelchair.

”Daddy, maybe we could have dessert in the library? I asked them to make chocolate mousse, in honor of Mom. It was her favorite.”

”For goddamn-sakes, pudding? Am I toothless already?” he says and whirls around to glare at Irene. “Your mother had questionable taste, believe me. Just like you. Don’t try to baby me, Reenie. Save that for your Larken whelps, if you can manage to throw a litter. Now sit back down.”

I suppress a gasp. The shift in the mood is frightening. This is absolutely not where I saw this dinner going. Irene moves robotically back to her seat as Oliver sits silently. She pulls out her phone and scrolls, refusing to meet Oliver’s eye.

So the Alpha of the Faulkner clan is a right old asshole? Certainly, that’s not a secret. And his two children, masters of his empire, sit cowed and quiet. This is obviously par for the course.

“This is not something we can ignore,” Howard continues, his voice getting louder and more agitated. ”There is a real and present threat out there—one that aims to fray not just our family but the fabric of our entire society. Pretending they don”t exist doesn”t mean they aren”t there! The Shadow Covenant is real.”

My phone now vibrates in my purse. As discreetly as I can, under the tablecloth”s cover, I glance at the cryptic message: Someone at the dinner table is lying to you.

I swallow hard. While there”s no name, I immediately recognize the number from the guest lists we looked at earlier. The number is Jason Faulkner”s. I”d bet my job on it.

Oliver leans closer; I can feel his breath brush against my cheek. ”Everything okay?” His voice carries a hint of suspicion that sends my heart racing—not with fear but with frustration.

I shove the phone back in my clutch. ”It”s just my brother,” I lie smoothly.

Jason? A name I hadn’t even heard until this morning? How could he know who was sitting at this table? Or what”s been said? And why warn me? I’m a nobody.

Oliver watches me closely, his amber eyes searching mine for signs of the deception or betrayal he fears from me.

Of course, I did just lie to him.

I try to see if Irene is watching but she is staring at her plate, probably willing herself to be invisible.

”Not Kray, checking up on you?” Oliver whispers, a bit of a growl in his voice.

”Of course not,” I say firmly, desperate to change the subject. Sweet gods, this family trusts no one!

I decide to throw myself to the wolves, so to speak. ”Lord Faulkner, um, I mean Howard. Mr. Kray does share your security concerns. I feel I should let you know in the interest of full disclosure.”

Old Faulkner stops his rant and leans forward, listening.

Before we even walked into the meeting room yesterday, Kray had told me that he had qualms about gathering so many important paranormals in one room at the Gala without plenty of extra eyes on all the entrances and exits. Maybe his concerns about Oliver’s ability to manage things were valid. Indeed, he’s having trouble managing his father.

I can feel the weight of Oliver”s gaze on me, pressing against my skin like a physical force. His scrutiny feels sharp and intense, like a tooth. I take a sip of water, trying to appear unruffled, but my mind races, turning over the words of the cryptic message and Kray”s earlier warnings.

”Could Kray’s focus on security be more than just precautionary?” I ask, breaking the silence. ”Is it possible he knows about the Shadow Covenant, too?” The question hangs in the air, charged with implication.

Oliver leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the table. His eyes never leave mine. ”Why would you think that? I’ve already told you that’s all a bunch of black magic bullshit,” he says, his voice steady but edged with something darker. “Maybe you should stay out of things you know nothing about. Family matters. Remember?”

There is a glint of wolf in his eyes, but I hold his gaze, my own voice equally steady. ”Just an observation,” I say. ”Kray seemed particularly insistent on extra precautions.”

Before Oliver can respond, Howard erupts from his end of the table, banging his fist down with surprising strength. ”I”ll stake that vampire”s heart if he”s plotting something. I’ve never trusted him. He was always lurking about Marian.”

Irene quickly stands and places a soothing hand on her father’s shoulder. ”Daddy,” she hisses, ”That’s enough. I think Ms. Carver is saying Kray is on your side.”

But Howard shakes her off, his eyes ablaze with a feverish intensity. ”You all think I”m senile,” he growls. ”But I see things clearer than any of you! The Shadow Covenant is real, and they are here! They have more power and more sway than you can imagine. Your mother opened the door, and they walked right in. She-devil that she was. They will come! You have to pay attention! They will come for blood. I swear on your mother’s life, they are coming.”

His words trail off into incoherent mutterings as Irene guides him out of the room with practiced ease. ”Come on, Daddy. You’re not making sense now. Mom was a saint. And you know it. It”s time for your medication. You get like this when you drink wine, don’t you? What a lovely evening, yes?”

She turns and raises an eyebrow at Oliver, voice hard and eyes glinting more with fear than anger. ”Ollie, I think it’s time you took our guest home.”

She steers her father, still muttering, into the other room. Then, the door closes behind them with a soft click that feels like a punctuation mark on the entire scene.