HIS WOLF TOLD ME EVERYTHING

Chapter 5: Second Son Energy

There are two ways to survive a camera flash when you're naked under a billionaire's shirt.

You can run. Or you can pose.

Edena pulled the shirt closed, stood up in the wet grass, and tilted her chin toward the light.

"Take another," she called. "That's my bad side. The left one photographs better."

The phone lowered half an inch. Leona Dessa had expected tears. Edena could see her recalculating, like a satnav after a wrong turn.

"Oh, she's *funny*," Leona said to Hollis. "Is that why you brought her to the house? For jokes?"

"Delete it."

Hollis didn't raise his voice. He never did. He just walked toward the car barefoot and bare-chested, and something in his walk made Leona slide off the hood.

"Four million," she said, and the sweetness thinned. "That's what this costs me, darling. Four million and a spa launch, and you're out in the woods with your little viral mistake like a teenager."

*She thinks we were doing it in the forest,* Fiendh said, delighted. *Tell her yes.*

"Don't," Edena muttered.

"Don't what?" Leona's eyes narrowed.

"Don't post it." Edena pulled her damp curls over one shoulder. "Not because of him. Because of you. *Influencer's fiancé caught with Gala Girl* is a sad story, and you're not a sad-story brand, Miss Dessa. You're a glow brand. Sad doesn't sell serums."

Leona stared at her for a long moment.

Then she laughed, a tinkling, pretty, dangerous laugh, and dropped her phone into her robe pocket.

"You're right. I won't post it." She stepped close and adjusted the collar of Hollis's shirt on Edena's neck, fingers cool. "I'll *keep* it. My engagement party. Here. You're coming. Both of you." She smiled. "Wear green."

Her slippers whispered across the gravel to the house.

Edena exhaled.

Beside her, Hollis said quietly, "She's never deleted anything in her life."

"Neither have I." Edena buttoned the shirt to her throat. "That's why I'm good at this."

---

In the busiest minute of the morning rush, Edena Bray walked into the lobby of Rourke Tower carrying two coffees, and Port Halden lost its mind.

The photographer from the Belmont wedding caught it from across the street. Hollis stepping out of the private elevator. Edena holding out a cup without a word. Hollis taking it, without a word.

That was all.

No caption. No statement. Just two people, one coffee, and an internet with nothing to do but argue.

**#GalaGirlWalksBackIn** hit number one before Theo Bask had finished his first cigarette.

"He took the *drink*," Madie screamed down the phone. "Do you understand what you've done? My group chat is in pieces. Gbemi says it's a power move. Kezia says it's a proposal. My mother is praying."

"Tell your mother thank you."

"And your mum is standing right here. She says you're too thin and should come home and eat."

Dona's voice boomed in the background over the dryers.

"Tell her I'm working."

"She says, *working for the man who threw you out*, and she's made the face."

Edena hung up on the face.

*Shares up three percent,* Zikal reported. *The Dubai people called again. Nice voices this time. He's pretending not to be impressed. He's very impressed. He read the comments. Twice. He liked one about your shoes.*

*Which one?* Fiendh demanded.

*"Her heels could solve a murder."*

*Correct,* Fiendh said.

---

The Rourke Meridian boardroom had a table carved from a single slab of black walnut, twelve chairs older than most countries, and Baner Rourke at the head of it like a judge who'd already decided.

Silver hair. Hollis's grey eyes, with all the warmth sanded off.

"So this is the girl." He didn't stand. "The internet tells me she's a genius. The internet told me the same about a cryptocurrency shaped like a frog."

"Edena Bray, sir. Crisis communications." She didn't sit until Hollis pulled out her chair. She sat in it like she'd been born there. "The frog lost eighty percent. Your share price is up three percent since he took that coffee."

A board member coughed into his water.

Baner's eyes moved past her to the end of the table. "Rory. Why are you here?"

Rory had been sprawled in a chair by the window, scrolling his phone. He sat up and gave his father a big, easy grin.

"Moral support. And I own two percent of the company, so legally—"

"The adults are talking."

Baner said it lightly. Like it was nothing. Like he'd said it a thousand times.

Rory's grin didn't move. Not a millimeter. He put his phone away, folded his hands, and stayed perfectly, pleasantly silent for the rest of the meeting.

Edena watched him not move, the way she'd watched Leang Cross not look at a camera.

Something about it hurt to look at.

*That's why he does the podcast,* Zikal said quietly. *So someone listens.*

Across the table, Hollis kept his eyes on the reports. But Edena saw his hand, under the walnut, curl into a fist.

---

Rory caught her in the corridor after, leaning against a window with the whole glittering harbor behind him like he'd ordered it.

"You were magnificent. He hates you. That's the highest honor in this family." He pushed off the glass. "Come on the show. Tonight. Live. You tell your side, I get my biggest episode ever, and my father has a small stroke. Everybody wins."

"No," said Hollis, who had appeared behind her the way weather appears.

"Wasn't asking you, Hol."

"She works for me."

"Then she's allowed a night off." Rory winked at Edena. "Studio's on Kell Street. I'll have snacks."

He strolled away whistling.

"You're not going," Hollis said.

"It's good strategy."

"It's my brother."

"That's what makes it good strategy."

Her phone buzzed.

**Go. And be honest. He deserves it.**

Edena read it twice. The cold crept up from her stomach into her throat.

*He deserves it.* Not *Hollis*. Not *them*.

*He.*

---

The *Second Son Energy* studio was a converted warehouse with neon on the walls, two velvet armchairs, and a bowl of gummy bears sorted by color, which told Edena more about Rory Rourke than any background check.

The ON AIR light glowed red. The live counter in the corner of the screen climbed past four hundred thousand. Then four-fifty.

Her phone lit up on the arm of the chair just before the countdown. Unknown number. Different one.

**If he asks anything you don't want to answer, touch your earring. The building's power will fail. — H.**

She looked at the window. Across Kell Street, a black Maybach sat under a broken streetlight with its engine running.

*He's been there since before you arrived,* Zikal confessed. *He told Theo he was at the gym. He's not at the gym. He's eating your gummy bears. Rory's assistant brought him a bowl. He picked out all the green ones.*

Edena bit the inside of her cheek to keep her face straight.

"Three, two—" Rory's producer pointed.

"Good evening, second sons and secret favorites," Rory purred into the microphone. "Tonight I have the most famous woman in Port Halden, and she didn't even have to marry anyone to get here."

Rory was very good. Warm, quick, self-deprecating. He made her laugh twice without trying, asked about the dress, the coffee, her mother's laundromat.

"So what's my brother really like?" he asked, eyes dancing. "Off the record. Which this isn't."

"He's very punctual," Edena said. "And he tips well. Those are the two qualities I look for in a cold front."

Rory laughed so hard he had to mute his mic. Comments poured up the screen in a waterfall of hearts and green emojis.

*He's lovely,* Fiendh said uneasily. *Why do I want to bite him and hide under a table at the same time?*

Edena kept smiling. Nearly the end of the show. Almost done.

"Last question." Rory leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Under the studio lights, the three scars on his face looked almost silver. "Rapid fire. Quick answer. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Have you ever been to Lake Ivory?"

The studio went silent.

The counter on the screen ticked over five hundred thousand.

Edena lifted her hand and touched the stud in her right ear.

Nothing happened.

The lights stayed on. The red ON AIR sign kept glowing. Across the street, the Maybach's headlights flicked once and went dark, and a broad figure in a grey suit stepped out of the driver's side door.

Not Hollis.

Leang Cross looked up at the studio window, straight at her, and put his phone to his ear.

And Rory Rourke smiled at her, kindly, patiently, the way a man smiles when he already knows the answer.