17. Orlagh
SEVENTEEN
"I almost feel sorry for you," I pant, slamming myself back into Yenni in an attempt to knock her off balance. "Hard emphasis on the almost."
Blood trickles down my arm, hot and thick, but I've got so much adrenaline pumping through my veins that I hardly notice.
"Sorry for me?"
Yenni hooks her arms around my elbows even tighter as she pulls me back against her, feet planted firm. That horrible perfume is positively overwhelming at this scant distance, turning my stomach so thoroughly that I'm having to lift my chin upwards while I struggle to break free—both to get an untainted breath and to try and see over the chaos, see what's happening with Rok.
Watching him swat Dammon away like an annoying little gnat had been kind of hot, so at least there's that. And the flashes I got of him and Jex squaring off while Wolf dragged me away? Hearing my absolute beefcake of a mate growl which hand before snapping both of Jex's wrists and looking very much like the brutal, exacting warchief of my fantasies?
A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about it, goosebumps prickling across my still-glowing skin that have absolutely nothing to do with the chill night air on my bare arms. Is it weird that I'd definitely be more than a little turned on—much more than a little turned on—if I wasn't so fucking terrified?
That terror is all I have space for at the moment, though. Because here I am in the first real physical altercation of my life, dressed like a horny Elven milkmaid and quite literally fighting to catch a glimpse of my mate as my ex closes in on him. I can't make out whatever heated words they're exchanging as they begin to move, circling each other. And even though I truly have zero doubts about this bond being a positive influence on our lives, about Rok being in complete control of himself… Wolf is cruel. Cruel and manipulative and far, far more dangerous and clever than I ever gave him credit for.
What am I going to do if he hurts Rok, if he says or does something that pushes him too far?
What is Rok going to do?
It takes me a moment to realize that the insistent tightness burning inside my chest is because I've completely forgotten to breathe, frozen in place, helpless and horrified as I watch my dark past close in on my bright future. Yenni's fingers tighten painfully around my arms, pulling me andmy attention away just as Wolf snarls, lunging at Rok.
"You know…" she grunts, yanking me back again as I shriek and strain against her, my very vocal exasperation overtaken by the roaring of motorcycles and the piercing howls of at least five more werewolves appearing at the end of the alley, "…I know something you don't."
"Unless it's that you're an undercover cop with a penchant for drama then I don't think I actually give a shit," I mutter, thoroughly distracted by the sudden influx of Wolf's buddies into the mix and the fresh wave of fear that washes over me, because what started as a small, weird altercation between Yenni and Wolf and I is now officially an all-out brawl.
An enormous troll and two gnomes in matching black crew t-shirts run past us, the smaller pair quickly tripping one of the approaching werewolves before making way for the troll. He's big, he's blue, and he's armed with a holster full of brightly colored zip ties and matte black tape, both of which he is insanely efficient at utilizing. I manage a glance over my shoulder as the gnomes break off and follow the rest of Wolf's packmates into the fray, but there are just too many bodies battling it out in this alley now; I've lost sight of Rok.
Hank has the stage door propped open, either completely unaware or just confidently unfazed by his silk robe fluttering open to bare, well, everything beneath it; that moonstone codpiece wasn't exaggerating much. His panicked gaze follows Thandriel, Pete, and a few other cast members as they throw themselves into their second melee of the evening, one with much higher stakes. Hank's phone is out and up, which means he's probably recording everything.
This is like a dream, like a… a nightmare. Surreal and chaotic and—a familiar flash of evergreen skin catches my eye, derailing my train of thought and stealing the very breath from my body.
Muscles tighten and roil across Rok's muscular back, tusks flashing in determination as he matches his brute strength to Wolf's in the middle of this mass of bodies. He's got an iron grip on Wolf's forearms, which is no easy feat in this form; they're impossibly long and limber and covered in smooth, tawny fur.
That burning in my chest starts anew, and although I know why, know that I just need to take a breath… I fucking can't. Can't breathe, can't think, can't believe this is all actually happening as I watch two more wolves jump onto Rok's back, and then Pete, right on top of them. Another orc and some kind of half-demon pile on as well, so many bodies that I lose sight of Rok amongst the aggression again.
"Of course you'll give a shit, but suit yourself," Yenni hisses, yanking me back around so I'm faced in the opposite direction of the fighting, toward the street, just like Wolf had been doing. "You know, you really are an idiot. Even for a vapid bitch of an elf."
Sun above, but I want to be angrier at this insufferable little jerk, want to hate her with all the fire and fury I have for Wolf and this pack of assholes, but… I just can't seem to muster it. How can I hate her now that I know she's not just some hopeful home wrecker vying for my mate's affection, that she's more than likely just another na?ve tool that Wolf's been using for his own gain like he does with everyone in his life? The memory of what that was like is all too easy to recall.
Ugh.
I don't want to hurt her if she's just another one of his victims, but, like, I also can't stand here and let her drag me down the alley just because she's been brainwashed, right? To be honest, I'm still not sure what the hell their end game is, and I'm certainly not planning on letting Yenni have her way so I can find out.
Wolf had been so adamant about getting me out onto the street before Rok showed up, snarling at me to shut up and stop screaming for help if I didn't want things to get difficult, muttering something to Yenni about a car… and even though I don't know what the hell that complete fucking stranger I used to share my life with and his new girlfriend or whatever are up to, I, at the very least, know enough to know that if someone tries to take you somewhere against your will—you never, ever get into the damn car.
How am I going to get out of this mess?
Digging my heels into the concrete isn't helping much, and there's no way I can get my elbows free, not with the way this insanely strong little human has her hands clasped together at the small of my back, locking me in place. Something tells me that attempting to appeal to any notions of feminine sisterhood she may have is absolutely pointless; Yenni is definitely not a girl's girl.
The sounds of struggle on top of struggle swell behind me: snarls and shouts, the unsettling scrape of lupine feet on pavement, and the simultaneously dull and sharp thuds of humanoid fists and feet meeting their marks. Rok's voice rises above the din, bellowing at someone to watch out, and the triumphant howl of Wolf's that follows his words sets the fine hairs of my body on end.
I thrash harder against Yenni, trying to pull my elbows apart and break this insane grip she has on my arms, trying to at the very least turn us back around, turn myself just enough so I can get just one look…
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe Rok had an opening and Pete was in the way, or maybe one of those big stage crew guys lost their footing and nearly caught up in their scuffle.
But that howl…
Anything that would make Wolf happy enough to howl like that tonight absolutely cannot be good. And Solstra help me, if Rok is hurt…
"Okay, so the elf comment was kind of rude," I grunt, deciding on a new tactic—diversion and distraction. "But you're right, I'm not exactly an intellectual. I mean, I never went to college, I can't read a map, never retained much about history or magic or math. Are you good at math? Honestly, even geometry was hard for me, but sewing patterns? Measurements? They're practical, tangible, something my brain really, really likes. My princess seams are fit for queens, and I could do Elven hems swinging in a hammock on a ship being sailed straight through a raging tempest. Have you ever been to the coast? Goddess, but I miss the ocean. Miss the salt on my skin, miss the sand and the sun and the?—"
One of my leather flats flies off of my foot as I try and fail to hook my ankle behind Yenni's knee and make my escape, thrashing against her in frustration when she moves her leg out of my reach at the last second, completely sidestepping me… which is a shame because I don't think monologuing is going to work on her twice.
I twist, getting a quick flash of Wolf launching Pete off of his back before Thandriel and another werewolf—maybe Garmin? I don't recognize some of them—block my view, the elf dodging every swipe of claw with an impressive level of agility and speed, his dark hair following him like a long, loose shadow.
Where… where's Rok?
I… I'd know if something happened to him, feel it.
Wouldn't I?
I can't breathe again, and it's got nothing to do with the bodice Rok tightened for me a lifetime ago, safe in our own little world, high above the stage. I want to be back there, back in his arms as he's kissing my neck, whispering the sweetest words in my ear.
But that's impossible.
I'm here, on the verge of a panic attack, snared by the biting grip Yenni still somehow has on my arms, with no one to save me but myself.
There's no time to waste anymore, no way I can stay trapped in this tumultuous standoff while my mate might be hurt, so I swallow a sob, shaking with adrenaline and determination, trying to think, think, think…
"Okay, seriously, Yenni?! What is in this for you? Wolf is so not the catch you think he is, just in case this whole kidnapping attempt he's roped you into didn't spell that out for you. Just… just let me go!"
A couple of snippets from a self-defense video series I watched during a late-night internet rabbit hole last week flash in my mind's eye: keep using her name, keep her talking, keep looking for the next opportunity to escape and when it arrives take it.
"Like hell I will," she stammers, kicking my ankle bone with one of her combat boots, struggling a bit to hold my weight when I stumble and lose my balance—something I take immediate note of. "Besides, I only take orders from my alpha."
From her…?
Thank Solstra my back is still to her, because I don't think I could stop my eyes from rolling if I tried.
"Yenni. I'm not sure if you know this, and I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're not even a werewolf!"
"Not yet!" she shrieks, a sharp note to her voice that tells me everything I need to know: I've hit a nerve. Her tone shifts, softens and strains all at once, like she's glancing up. Maybe at the moon?
This poor, love-struck pawn…
"There's a procedure, Wolf says. A doctor in Greenway. Just need the money and then?—"
"Oh, Yenni, Yenni, Yenni," I click my tongue, kicking back with my still-shoed foot and getting one of her shins, rewarded with a pained squeak. "You realize you've leashed yourself to a total shithead liar, right? I can almost guarantee that there's no doctor waiting for you in Greenway, no procedure, and I think we both know that Wolf and his pack are all going to jail before the night is over. So listen, just…let me go… and I promise I'll let you go, won't so much as mention you to the veritable murder of lawyers I'm going to hire."
"You think you're so much better than me, than everyone," she sneers, her breath hot against my ear. All pretense of that shy, sweet, subdued persona she'd been putting on backstage is gone, and I can suddenly see why an asshole like Wolf and her seem to get along so well. Goddess, what did I ever see in that detestable jerk? "But you still don't know what this is all even about, do you?"
Her tone makes me bristle, all those reservations I'd been having about hating her slipping away fast, lost and buried beneath the fury and frustration mounting inside me.
"Why are you talking to me like you know anything about me, Yenni? Besides, Yenni, you're the one helping the psychopath who's obsessed with me or something since he can't seem to just leave me the hell alone. Has he even told you what he did to my apartment, Yenni? How he sent?—"
"Wolf never loved you," she taunts, finally releasing my elbows only to grab me by the hair.
Yenni's nails scrape at Dolly as she seizes me with both hands, jerking my head back hard enough to make me grit my teeth and cry out in pain, my own hands grabbing onto hers on instinct. It's a good thing this enchanted wig is—sun above, that's right.
The wig.
She's holding me by the wig…
"He was just using you for the pack, for me, for us, and you were dumb and desperate enough to fall for it, to think he ever gave a shit about you; I've been telling Wolf to leave you and find a better grift for years, that waiting for that money was a waste of all our damn time. "
Wait—years?
Grift?
It shouldn't matter—and I guess it doesn't matter anymore, not really—but, sweet sunbeams, it still fucking hurts. I open and close my mouth, unable to find my voice.
"What, nothing to say now?"
I should have something to say, shouldn't I? Should have several somethings to say to this smirking garbage person I just found out was at least one of the females my ex had been unfaithful with for maybe the whole duration of our apparent sham of a relationship, but… I'm just… done.
Done with the lies, with the hypocrisy, with the fucking mess that Wolf and his pack and this bitch have been making of my life for years and all for… for what, even? It's not like I make that much with my cam work or at the coffee shop, certainly not enough to bankroll a whole pack. That would take a literal fortune, one the size of…
…my inheritance.
It all falls into place then, a thousand memories coming to mind, a thousand times I should have seen things for what they were, should have known better. Things like the dogged insistence on Wolf's part to keep shared bank accounts, the near constant threats to dox me when I called him out on his bullshit even as he positively obsessed over securing my anonymity, the way he talked me out of any and all notions I had of reaching out to my sister, over and over again over the past two years. How controlling and paranoid and jealous he'd gotten the closer and closer we got to solstice this year, to gaining access to that trust…
Sun above, how could I have been so blind?
All those big little things seemed somewhat innocuous on their own, or at least I convinced myself they did. But out here, in hindsight, gathered together under the harsh spotlight of this new information?
There's no question; I'd played right into his hand, time and time again.
A howl pierces the night behind me—Wolf again, except angry, frustrated—and I find my resolve hardening along with my heart, a tear rolling down my cheek; the last tear I'm ever going to shed for Wolf.
"Should I have something to say to that?" My voice is low, soft as I shift my weight, taking my captor by surprise when I go momentarily boneless, just like I hoped I would. She can't keep her stance when I get my feet back under me again, so I throw my weight into my shoulder and force her to turn us back around, gritting my teeth through the pain and discomfort of her grip on the wig. "I mean, I guess I should thank you, Yenni."
"Thank me?" she scoffs, yanking even harder. "For what?"
That troll with the zip ties takes another werewolf to the ground right in front of us, and suddenly I have an unobstructed view of Rok, of Wolf and Pete with him. And now I can see that although Rok may be up and moving, may have Pete fighting to restrain Wolf right by his side… he's injured.
Angry, red welts run across his chest where he's been scratched and clawed, but they all look shallow, thank the sun. Glancing around, I can see that he's not the only one sporting new injuries: one arm of Pete's jacket is completely shredded, Thandriel's pants are slashed across the thigh, and everywhere I look there seems to be another wounded crew member in some state of duress, some of them actively fighting while others are hanging back on the sidelines, running back into the theater, skirting the scene completely and booking it for the street. Four of the other werewolves are restrained, at least, so it seems like it's only a matter of time for the rest, but… sun above, Rok.
The sight of him hurt, even superficially… it fills me with the coldest sort of dread, a fear so sharp and quiet and exacting that my eyes are swimming with tears again, heart in my throat, pulse in my fingertips. And there, in the middle of it all, looking past Rok, looking right at me with malevolent amusement shining in his yellow eyes…Wolf.
My mouth sets in a hard line as I meet his gaze, and for a moment I wish I had tusks of my own to bare, wish I had something to wordlessly communicate the absolutely animalistic, vindictive fury he's awakened in me.
As fucked up as this is to realize… I'm used to him doing things to hurt me. Expect it, even. But now he's hurt Rok, jeopardized my mate's career and our lives… and for what? Money that my mother still controls, money that I may not even see now, especially after my texted tirade to Taliagh last night, with all these people filming the kind of vulgar display my mother would happily disown me for?
Well, fuck him, and fuck that. He's going to be the one that pays when all of this is over—someway, somehow—and I don't care what I have to do to make it happen.
Pete leaps onto Wolf's back again, blond hair hanging in his eyes, stringy with sweat. He takes the werewolf to the ground once more, trying to keep him there long enough to let Rok grab the zip ties he's holding out towards him, to restrain Wolf once and for all. Rok closes in, dodging snapping teeth, narrowly missing another gouging blow from Wolf's claws as he pins one of my ex's lethal limbs. Rok grabs at the zip ties Pete's holding out with his free hand, but then Wolf pulls him into the struggle and the three of them are nothing more that a tangled in a mess of fur and claws and fists once more.
Two of the security wizards from the show burst past Hank and into the alley at long last, looking incredibly overwhelmed, and with good reason; this is definitely not the level of brawling they've been trained to deal with for kitschy dinner theatre shows. And with the shifting, chaotic mess of limbs this alley has become… well, I don't have to know anything about magic to know that even a spell sniper would have a hard time getting a clear shot.
Yenni pauses for a moment, temporarily as enraptured by the tangled mess the three males in the center of the alley are in as I am.
Rok rolls onto his knees, breathing hard, and thankfully with no new wounds that I can see. He sweeps his legs under Wolf, knocking him off balance, and for a moment I think it might be over, think Rok grabbing Wolf by the scruff as Pete pins his arms is enough, but then Pete goes flying and all of them are back at square one, circling and grappling.
I'm honestly surprised Wolf is still standing, especially when Rok is so focused, so determined, when I know that my ex is outmatched in both brain and brawn tonight.
Actually, now that I think about it… I haven't seen Rok go all out even once, and he certainly hasn't taken any of the same kind of cheap, lethal shots that Wolf has, not once. He's stronger than Wolf is, in any form, which means he's…
He's holding himself back.
Protecting me, wearing Wolf down, keeping him occupied; controlling himself and the chaos around him.
I watch as he looks over his shoulder, a quick check on all of his coworkers currently mixed up in the brawl while he herds Wolf and Pete closer to the back wall, back to the center of the alley, until he's standing… standing right between Wolf and I.
My heart swells, sunlight singing through my veins as our bond flares to life inside me, a renewed determination to shake free from this delusional asshole of a woman, to regain control of myself and my future and get back to my mate burning through me.
"I was going to say that I should thank you," I plant my feet, breathing hard, hands tangling in my hair alongside Yenni's, digging deep into the wig and inching toward the center of the scalp, "because I don't have to feel sorry for you anymore—which is going to make this next part a hell of a lot easier."
Dolly's enchantment activates with a particular press of my fingers, and I send up a silent prayer of gratitude to Solstra as I break free at long last, thanking her for magic and fashion and Lhysa and the culmination of all three wonderful things in this golden guardian hair-angel she's gifted me with tonight.
Yenni shrieks, stumbling backwards with the force of the wig's sudden release, and I seize my moment, kicking back as I launch myself forward and away from her. My bare foot lands square in the middle of her stomach—hard. So hard that I can hear all the air rush out of her, so hard that she loses her footing and flies backwards, so hard that I actually laugh in a wild, heady combo of surprise and elation and adrenaline.
My celebration is short-lived, however, as my toes scrape against the rough ground and I lose my footing, pitching forward.
Palms meet pavement, breaking my fall, wrists feeling like they've broken themselves in the process. I'm certainly glad that I didn't land face first on the concrete, but Solstra help me, the agonizing shock of impact jolts up my arms so painfully that I scream through clenched teeth—unintentionally diverting Rok's attention.
Time seems to slow around me as he pivots and his blue eyes find mine, those cerulean waters I long to wade through close, so close, and yet so far. The tension in his heavy brow seems to ease once he sees that I've broken myself free, expression softening with a bit of pride, taking in the fear he must see darkening my own features. He offers me a wink, that lopsided grin I love a comfort, curling around his bloody tusks, and I can't help but beam right back at him through the tears welling in my eyes. Even amidst all this chaos, in the middle of this absolute madness that our lives have become, he's perfect. Perfect and all mine, in a way that no one else ever was or ever will be; my heart, my soul, my mate.
My chest seizes, and for a moment I'm convinced that those thick, calloused fingers of his somehow found their way between my lungs and wrapped themselves around my hummingbird heart, cradling and crushing, filling every fluttering beat with life and love and hope.
But… then time speeds back up, and it all goes to hell.
Wolf throws Pete into the wall at the end of the alley, malevolent glee darkening his yellow eyes when they find Rok, tongue lolling from his muzzle, moonlight glinting off of his claws as his arm arcs behind him, nothing between them and Rok's exposed back, moving fast, too fast…
"Look out!"Rok yells at the same time I do, and even though I watch the orc of my dreams duck and weave without the slightest bit of hesitation at my warning, it's not fast enough.
Wolf's claws rake across Rok's back, blood splattering across the alley, painting his matted fur. The roar of pain that rumbles through Rok, through me, through the ground at my feet… it rattles my bones, shaking me to the very core. I swallow a scream, scrambling to the side and up onto my feet, a thousand alarm bells ringing in my head.
What do I do?
What can I do?
I can't do what I want to do, can't run into the middle of that mess, can't scream his name, can't beg the sky to bring the moon crashing down on top of Wolf as I throw myself between them.
Rok is hurt because of me, because he turned to focus on me, and calling out to him now would just be another distraction, maybe create another window of opportunity for Wolf to take things even farther, too far…
I hear the scuff of a boot and spin around, remembering that Rok told me to look out, too, and shriek in surprise when I practically run into a glowering Yenni.
Panic starts to take over and then… then an odd sort of calm floods through me.
My hand swings up on instinct, fingers clenched, and I watch its path as if I were floating above myself, taking in the scene from afar. That sense of detachment is so prominent that when a loud, sickening crunch echoes through the alley… it takes a moment for me to realize it's from the heel of my palm connecting with Yenni's nose.
My mouth drops open in shock as she screams and clutches at her face, blood gushing down her pale cheeks and over her red lips. My mouth opens even wider when she drops to her knees and I can see over her head, getting a clear view of the sidewalk and the street beyond. Some tourists and clubbers have gathered at the end of the alley, phones up and filming, right beside… a large black SUV with blacked-out windows.
Doors fly open, and my feet move before my brain tells them to, skipping backwards, convinced this is the kidnap car or whatever, heedless of the fighting still going on behind me. I'm just about to turn and run for the stage door when two surprising figures spill out onto the sidewalk.
Brix and…
Taliagh.
Sun above, but my sister is even more beautiful than I remember. Loose, wide-legged trousers are secured by a thin leather belt at her enviably thin waist, a pair of luxurious looking heels that someone as tall as her definitely does not need peeking out beneath them. An intentionally unintentional-looking number of buttons remain undone on her white silken blouse, giving her an air of what can only be described as an indifference to her obvious affluence.
Somehow she looks exactly as I remember her, exactly like she did on the day that I left Fair Isle… and like a complete stranger, all at once.
One thing certainly hasn't changed, though, and that's the sleek curtain of rose gold hair hanging straight down her back, drinking in the moonlight and spinning it back into pure sunshine. Her lavender eyes still look just like my mother's, like mine—though Taliagh's are far more cool and calculating than mine could ever hope to be, especially now as she stands on the sidewalk, still as a statue, perfect as marble, taking in the messy scene before her.
Brix has no such hesitations, gunning it straight for me. I couldn't be happier to see her, even if I'm at a loss as to why and how she's here with my sister, of all people, or why she looks like she just rolled out of bed. Brix never leaves the house without at least five unnecessary accessories and a full face of makeup, and yet here she is with slippers on her feet in nothing but an oversized t-shirt—one that looks to be about Haf's size, actually—sliding off of one shoulder, her dark waves uncharacteristically loose, catching the wind and streaming behind her like a banner as she runs to me.
"Oh, thank hellfire." Brix gives Yenni a swift kick before wrapping her arms around me in a crushing and incredibly welcome hug. "Can't believe you got into a fistfight with some skank and didn't have the decency to invite me, sugar. I'd be hurt if I weren't so damn relieved."
My eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments, reveling in the first genuine feeling of safety and security I've had since I walked out that stage door with Yenni, since I left Rok's side.
"Brix… how—why—are youhere? And not just here, but with…?"
I look to Taliagh again, see that two large, male sun elves have followed her out of the SUV, flanking her as they scan the alley. My heart drops, throat dry, because I'd know those sand colored suits they're wearing anywhere—they're the same ones my mother has required of her personal security detail for as long as I can remember.
I hold my breath, watching with a surprisingly painful mixture of hope and apprehension as one last figure emerges from the SUV: a female sun elf in a sand colored skirt suit.
Not my mother after all, then. And I could really do without the flood of relief and disappointment that follows that realization, because it sure has teeth, bitter and sharp.
The sun elf who just emerged is immediately on the move, her high, sleek ponytail swinging behind her like a pendulum, drawing my eye. She's not making her way towards any of the werewolves currently strewn about the alley, zip-tied and restrained, or toward anyone down where my mate and his friend are still grappling with my animal of an ex. No, instead I watch her walk right up to a tourist on the sidewalk, the tiefling who had been holding their phone aloft, recording the altercation…
Taliagh's eyes meet mine and then skim over me—cataloging my outfit, the blood still dripping down my arm, and the absolute state my hair and makeup must be in—before she looks away, offering the faintest of nods to one of the males in her entourage.
Why… why is she here? And with my mother's personal security, no less?
"Real pushy, that sister of yours," Brix mutters, following my gaze. "Showed up at my place with those three, demanding to know where you were, that I hand over my phone. I was gonna kick her ass to the curb, but when she told me about the wolves she saw at your apartment… hellfire, I was so damn worried, sugar."
"Wolf!" Yenni screams, scrambling onto her feet, flying into Brix in her attempt to stumble past us and head straight into the melee.
"Oh, fuck no you don't," Brix grumbles, grabbing the back of Yenni's retreating form, yanking down on the collar of her leather jacket so hard that she falls back against my friend. I hardly have a chance to blink before Brix has one of her toned, mint-green arms around Yenni's neck, securing her in a headlock. "Do that again and—you know what? I ain't gonna tell you, so go on ahead and fuck around if you feel the need to find out, cause I'd be happy as a hellion to—my stars, that asshole is getting served something special, ain't he?"
I whip around at Brix's words to see what she's talking about, what made Yenni forget her ass from her elbow.
Rok has Wolf by the throat, pressed up against the brick wall at the end of the alley, tusks bared in a snarl. Pete is making a quick work of Wolf's lethal limbs, about a thousand neon zip ties cutting into Wolf's wrists, keeping his clawed hands bound in front of him.
"I told you I ain't stopping," Wolf chokes out, voice cracking from the pressure around his thick neck, "not till I get what's mine."
"And I told you that the only thing you and your pack of shitheads are getting tonight is fucking time." Rok looks to the security wizards standing near the stage door, both of them deep in conversation with one of the male sun elves and looking incredibly unsure of themselves. "Where the fuck are the cops, and what in the hells are you two waiting for?"
"Why… why aren't they helping him?" I say. "He's bleeding. Somebody needs to help him."
"Sugar, he sure don't look like he needs help. Besides, he's full orc; go on and look, those wounds are already healing."
And she's right, they are. There's still so much I have to learn about him. How is that possible when, in some ways, I know him even better than myself?
"Anyhow, I say let him keep squeezing," Brix mutters, tightening her own hold on Yenni until she wrings a whimper from the woman, "see if the bastard fucking pops."
"Distracting that orc of yours again would be foolish," my sister says, heels clicking on the pavement as she approaches, looking down at her phone instead of at me. "He appears to have the alpha well in hand for now, and my team will step in shortly."
"Your team?" I turn to my sister, trying to decide whether I'd rather hit her or hug her as I try to catch her gaze. Even through all of this anger and confusion I'm feeling, the urge to bury my face in the rose-gold silk of her hair and breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume is strong. I miss her, have missed her so much over the past six years. We were so close before I refused to get inside the same gilded box she did, and seeing her now, feeling this rift between us in person… it's hard. "Now would be a great time to explain why you sullied your designer shoes traversing commercial tarmac with mom's goons, why you wanted to track me down so badly that you harassed my best friend."
"First," Taliagh takes a slow, measured breath through her nose, finally tucking her phone away and turning her violet eyes to mine. "I didn't fly here with them. They were waiting for me when I arrived, right near baggage claim, with a professionally printed little sign and everything."
"You still don't get it," Yenni laughs, voice thin and strained, bloody spittle spraying out of her mouth. "Look around, you spoiled fucking cunt. They're here because of us, because of Wolf."
"Well, bless your fucking heart, guess you did wanna find out," Brix sighs, a bored look on her face as she takes Yenni's legs out from under her with a quick swish of her tail, dropping her facedown onto the pavement.My phone clatters to the ground beside them, falling out of Yenni's jacket pocket, and I snatch it up right away, head swimming even as a loose plan starts to swirl and shimmer, taking shape inside my mind.
I cross my arms over my chest as I turn back to my sister, hiding my phone beneath them. "Explain, Tal."
"The reason I got on that plane, the reason I came to Galtree, was to see you. To talk to you. But…" Taliagh's icy, detached gaze slides over Yenni's prone form before moving around the rest of the alley, her upper lip curling ever so slightly, "she isn't wrong. That werewolf and the information he sent mother threw a wrench into my personal plans, are why she had those three waiting for me at the airport, why I'm… here, now, to see certain things get taken care of properly."
"See?" Yenni wheezes. "Told you. Things get a little messy, and what happens? Mommy sends her clean-up crew and your robo-sister in to mop up your mess, throw enough money around to make it all go away, make you go away, just like Wolf knew she would?—"
"I'm here to help, Orlagh," Taliagh hisses through her teeth, cutting in, "whether you see it that way or not."
"Help… who?" I whisper, not believing what I'm hearing, but Taliagh won't look at me anymore. Her cool eyes are on the female sun elf, now locked in conversation with Thandriel and Hank as she… takes their phones. Handing them each a tremendous looking amount of cash in exchange. "Unbelievable. You are here to contain this, to contain… me."
"Public relations for our mother brought me here officially, yes, as my cabinet position dictates. But I am still your sister?—"
"—just unofficially, right?" An unfamiliar, mirthless laugh escapes my throat. "Goddess, and here I thought that maybe after all these years… You know, forget it. Thanks for refusing to help me when I called you last week, because it inadvertently helped me realize that Rok's my mate, but honestly? Fuck you for the rest."
"Realize Rok is your what, now?" Brix shrieks, tail tightening around Yenni's ankles, a foot braced on her lower back.
Taliagh steps between us, looking down her perfect, pert nose at me, tone hushed. "You're acting like a child, Orlagh. Things aren't as simple as you'd like them to be, have never been as simple as you'd like them to be, certainly not for me. Change takes time in a place like Fair Isle, and it will never, ever happen if I don't keep playing the role I've been given, if I don't?—"
"You know what?" My feet move of their own accord, bringing me even closer to my sister, forcing her to take an uncharacteristically unsteady step backwards. "That sounds an awful lot like stuff you could have told me a week ago. When I called you? Scared and confused and desperate for help? So… so why don't you do whatever it is mother dearest sent you here to do, and I'll do whatever I need to do, what I honestly should have done a long time ago."
"Orlagh, be reasonable. You can't just?—"
I walk off toward Wolf and Rok before she finishes that sentence, because nothing she says could veer me off of the path I'm on now.
I spent sixty-four years in Fair Isle letting my mother run my life, then nearly two more years letting Wolf do much of the same. And then tonight… tonight I've been standing on the sidelines, letting myself get distracted by petty bullshit while my mate has been out there risking everything, sacrificing blood and sweat and tears, trying to take care of a problem that only I can fix, that I think I finally know how to fix.
It's high time I truly break away from my mother, from Wolf, and all in one fell swoop—or in this case, swipe.
My phone is in my hand as I step beside Rok, and after a series of hurried swipes and taps, I stuff it underneath the shoulder strap of my bodice, just like I do anytime I don't have pockets and need my hands free, like I've done for years.
"Not too close, sunshine," Rok starts, half turned toward me, wincing when the partially healed gouges twist with him, fresh blood dribbling from the deepest one. "Stubborn as fuck, this asshole, but I reckon he's got… oh, I'd say about thirty more seconds before he finally passes the fuck out."
"It's fine," I say, my voice hard, the glare I fix Wolf with even harder. "You can let him go, Rok. He's not going to try anything else."
"Orlagh, what in the hells are you?—"
I pull his face down to mine and silence him with a kiss, tangling my fingers in the sweat-drenched curls at the nape of his neck, something unsettled in my soul finally soothed to sleep by the smooth coolness of his tusks against my cheek.
Rok cradles my face in his free hand as he pulls back to look at me, his other still extended, locked in place and squeezing just as tightly around Wolf's neck; tighter, even.
"Sunshine, I don't understand. What's changed?"
The question hangs heavy in the air between us, but I don't have an answer for him, not with Wolf still pinned to the wall, looking so infuriatingly pleased with himself. What I'm asking Rok to do isn't just the exact opposite of what he's been working so hard to accomplish out here in this mess tonight, it probably goes against every instinct he has.
"Just… trust me?" I whisper, eyes wide with a silent plea. My hand glides over his belly, up his chest, resting over his heart.
Rok looks at me for a long moment, worrying his tusks, before nodding slowly. His fingers loosen around Wolf's throat, slowly at first, and then he drops his hand away completely.
Wolf crumples to the ground, clutching awkwardly at his neck with bound hands before scrambling up onto his feet, back hunched, heaving with the force of his big, barking breaths. He straightens after a moment, shoulders back, a triumphant smile curling around his muzzle as Rok closes the distance between them.
"Listen up, Fido. Make one fucking move I don't like—one—and your ass is gonna get carted out of here in the back of a fucking hearse instead of a police car, got it?"
Wolf snuffs in amusement, seemingly unfazed. "Sure thing, big guy."
Rok turns to me. "I trust you, but I sure as fuck don't trust him. Ten steps, sunshine. That's all I can give you. And if he hurts you again?" Rok's fingers graze along my arm, carefully avoiding the still-fresh wound Wolf's claws gifted me. "Blood for blood, and I'll drag him all the fucking way to Brok'hal for it if I have to."
I nod in understanding, nearly swept away by the ocean of emotions rising within me, the love and concern I feel radiating off of my mate like rays of the sun, warming me.
He doesn't take his eyes off of Wolf as he takes those ten steps toward where Mila and that frogkin from the ticketing booth are standing, both of them armed with first aid kits, dressing wounds.
Rok really would do anything for me.
And if I hadn't already been certain about the leap I was about to make before… well, I certainly am now.
Wolf squints down at me, cracking his neck. "Take it Yenni spoiled the surprise, then."
"Two years," I hiss, hands shaking at my sides. "You lied to me for two years, Wolf."
"Come on, now… it didn't start that way. Once I found out about that inheritance, though?" Wolf snuffs, bound hands awkwardly rubbing at his furry neck. "I mean… you're coming into a fucking fortune, Orlagh. More zeroes than most folks can figure."
"Good thing you never followed through on those threats to dox me, right? Well, until tonight I guess. Did you link my mother directly to a video, or just point her in the right direction?"
"Hey now, I just thought Governor Skylark might like to know what her daughter's been up to all this time, is all. Had to figure out a new angle after you broke things off, didn't I? Couldn't have all that time I sank into you be for nothing, not after finally seeing a way out after working my ass off for this pack my whole goddamn life."
"Working?" I scoff, crossing my arms carefully over my chest so I don't jostle my phone and activate the screen. "Wolf, you don't have a job."
"Of course I don't have a job. I'm too busy running jobs, doing whatever the fuck it takes to keep this pack afloat. Just ‘cause you never saw the shit I made happen behind closed doors and under the table don't mean shit wasn't happening, right?"
"Oh! So the felonious activity didn't just start with trashing my apartment, stalking me, having me followed? You mean to tell me it goes beyond your kidnapping attempt tonight? I'm honestly a little impressed. I didn't think you had the brain cells for all that forethought. Are you sure Jex doesn't map out all your plans? Maybe Yenni?"
"That fucking mouth of yours, I swear… They didn't fucking plan it. I did." His yellow eyes flash, revealing that familiar, fragile ego I spent years tiptoeing around, too scared of being alone to break things off. "You know, I wasn't even gonna take it all, but now? Now I just might."
"You're a delusional asshole if you think you're still getting a cent of that money."
Wolf barks out a laugh. "Of course I am! Look at those rich goons, throwing cash all around this alley to cover up your dirty tracks. That sister of yours is gonna pay me to keep quiet, pay me real good to make sure mommy don't get any of the shit I sent her on her pricey shoes," he leans in, menacing, "and you're gonna fucking let her, you hear me?"
"And what if I don't?"
"Don't be fucking stupid, now." His voice is a low snarl. "You see any cops here? Those charges your fucking insurance company racked up against me and my crew disappeared mighty fast, didn't they? Things do that around me a lot, you know. Disappear."
"Sweet Solstra," I whisper, stomach swooping in fear. "What exactly are you threatening to do to me?"
"Fuck, but you're dumb. I ain't threatening shit, am I? I'm promising. Promising if you get between me and that money again, things are gonna go real fucking bad for a pretty little slut like you."
A whistle cuts through the alley, short and sharp.
I look to its source, to Rok. Barely contained rage darkens his features as he pushes past Mila, stabbing a finger in Wolf's direction. "You're not gonna fucking speak to her like that ever the fuck again, understand?"
Wolf ignores Rok completely, tilting his head to the side as he looks me over.
"Oh, you likes it, though, don't you? Can't blame me for dragging it out as long as I did, not with an ass like that…" Wolf leans back against the wall again, oily gaze lingering in a way that turns my stomach. "But since you seem to need shit spelled out for you in big fucking letters tonight, Orlagh, here it is: you don't make sure I get what I'm owed and I end that orc of yours, right before I send you somewhere that'll make you wish I'd done the same for you."
"Alright, that's it," Rok growls, stalking straight for Wolf with murder in his eyes. "I've heard enough from you for a fucking life?—"
"I think we all have, haven't we, folks?"
I step directly in Rok's path, linking arms with him and spinning us around as I pull my phone out from my bodice, holding it up so we're both in frame and Wolf is visible behind us, a genuine smile stretched across my face. The chat is going crazy already, emojis flashing all over the screen, the view count steadily rising past the hundreds into the thousands.
"But just to set the record straight: I am, in fact, Governor Hortensia Skylark's estranged daughter, and that furry asshole you just heard confess to a bajillion actual crimes has been threatening to dox me for years when, all along, it was the absolute last thing in the world he wanted. I think he may find himself in quite a pickle now though, because even though my seventieth summer solstice is just around the corner, Mommy said she wouldn't let me see a dime if I bring shame to the family name. Isn't that right, sis? Say by doing something like… linking all my personal and professional social media accounts and going live right now? Guys, this is my sister Taliagh Skylark. Say hi, Taliagh!"
I flip the phone toward my sister, a small, petty part of me hoping to catch her at least slightly off guard, but she's positively unruffled, that cool mask of detachment she clings so tightly to fixed firmly in place. "Orlagh… think carefully about what you're doing, about the very severe, very real consequences of exposing?—"
"Tal," I interject with a sigh, still recording her face. "I'm sorry if any of the choices I've made in the past have caused you any difficulty, if the one I'm making right now causes you any difficulty, but I'm not sorry for those choices—any of them. I know what I'm doing."
I turn the phone back to myself, looking to Rok once we're back in frame, finding that lopsided smile I love waiting for me, tusks grazing his full cheeks. He gives me a nod, his rough hand squeezing my waist, and I clear my throat, turning back to the camera.
"My name is Orlagh Skylark, and I fuck myself on camera for money. I've made a lot of shitty decisions in my life, case and point right fucking here," I mutter, flipping the phone around and zooming in on a blessedly speechless Wolf before turning it back on myself, "but I don't think the way I make money is one of those shitty decisions, and neither does my mate. Now, can someone watching get this video to a cop that isn't on pack payroll or whatever, maybe your local news? I don't care if you're in Galtree, Greenway, Tyrule, or somewhere in-between. Tag anyone, tag everyone, because there are a whole bunch of werewolves here that have been breaking a whole bunch of laws tonight."
Flashesof red and blue light flood the alley as the last police car drives off, leaving Rok and I bathed in moonlight and shadows, arms wrapped around each other.
"You did a brave thing tonight, sunshine. You know that, right?"
I rest my cheek against Rok's belly, watching the last remaining news crew pack up their cameras on the empty sidewalk, enjoying the feel of my mate's rough hands catching on the raised weave of this lovely and ridiculous bodice I'm still cinched up in, exhausted beyond belief.
"So did you. Going head to head with Wolf like that, keeping him focused on you? That was brave. Doxing myself? That was… necessary. And goddess knows we're both going to be dealing with the fallout from it for a long time, possibly forever."
"Don't be modest, now," Rok chuckles, gently stroking my hair as he gazes down at me with pride shining in his eyes. "You did what I couldn't, what none of us could. Muzzled that fucker, buried him in a hole he'd been digging himself for years, broke free from those last few strings your momma had tied tight around you, tugging away. You're the hero tonight, sunshine, make no mistake."
My cheeks burn as I bury my face against his suede-like skin, the heat of him more welcome than ever on this chilly night. "Well, you've been my big, green, hunky hero more times than I can count this week, haven't you? Using my super social media powers to return the favor was the least I could do."
Linking my personal and professional profiles first had definitely been a stroke of simultaneous madness and genius. Those livestreams went viral viral, and it didn't take long for a fresh influx of eager onlookers and interested tourists to invade the pleasure district. News crews came soon after, hoping to capture something exciting during the last dregs of the drama.
Taliagh left with my mother's ineffectual clean-up crew in tow well before the cameras showed up, but not before I made sure that my friends got back their phones—and kept the attempted hush money all the same. My sister shook Rok's hand before she left, which was strange, but not nearly as strange as the tight-lipped, formal apology she'd offered Brix, followed by an offer to give her a ride back to her place. Brix had accepted, hugging me goodbye so tightly that I thought I popped a rib. And when Tal finally said goodbye to me… it was with a small nod, that cool mask of hers firmly in place.
Actual medics arrived around the same time city authorities finally did—ones unassociated with whatever sleazy, corrupted business my ex and his pack were involved up in—and they started shackling offenders as soon as the healers had taken care of everyone on both sides of the scuffle. Watching Wolf and his crew get carted off and canned like the literal trash they are was incredibly vindicating, and the start of some much needed closure.
And I do feel pretty heroic, I guess. Jumping away from that big financial safety net I'd been clinging to, sacrificing my privacy and my privilege in order to stand up to Wolf and my mother and my sister once and for all, proving to them—proving to myself—that I am much, much more than I was when I left Fair Isle, no longer that spoiled little rich elf that they all like to imagine I still am.
I know things aren't completely over. Investigations will be launched, litigation filed, public statements beyond the ones given tonight required, interviews and incident reports and apartment hunting, not to mention an influx of hella weird subscribers to my OnlyFannies I'm going to have to filter through, but… I know I'll get through it. Especially with Rok by my side; my rock.
"Think we can finally sneak out of here? Because I am desperate for your bathtub, and bubbles, and you."
"Throw in some strawberries and champagne and you've got yourself a deal. Though it ain't just my place. I know we got shit to figure out?—"
"Like if Ulrich can pull some strings to help me break my lease so I can really take advantage of the counter space in that giant bathroom of yours?"
"—like that, yeah," he chuckles. "Everything I have, everything I am? It's yours, sunshine, now and always. You don't need me to take care of you… but I'm gonna. Can't help it."
I smile, reaching up to cradle his face in my hands, thumbs running along his tusks. My eyes flutter closed as I arch up on tiptoe, and then fly open once more. "I do have one request, though."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"Can we bring your cat inside? Please?? I know you like to keep things clean, but cats are actually super hygienic and?—"
"My cat? Orlagh… you can stop yanking my chain on this one. That's your cat."
"No, he?—"
"She."
"—she's not. You have a kitty igloo on your balcony and you give her bacon every morning!" I laugh.
"And she showed up on my porch the day you moved in!"
"Sun above, is she a… stray?"
"I'll be damned. Gandalf's been playing matchmaker this whole damn time…"
"Well, now we have to bring her inside."
"Anything to keep you smiling like that," Rok dips his head down, that full, fearsome mouth of his capturing mine in a kiss that rocks me off balance. "Now. Let's get you home, sunshine."
"Oh, Rok," I whisper against his lips, woodsmoke and citrus heavy in the air between us. "I am home."