They All Chose Her, Then Found Out I Owned the Company Their Pack Needed novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Not Looked After

Rafe comes to her door offering a flat and an allowance; she shuts it, and her brother reveals the pack has called MOONHOUSE twelve times while the pack's post says the summit goes ahead.

I drove home with the radio off and my phone face down on the passenger seat.

It buzzed against the leather forty times before I reached my street.

I let it.

My house was a small rental on Pine Street, two blocks from the lodge, with a porch light I never remembered to turn off.

Rafe was sitting on my porch steps when I pulled in.

He had come on foot, in his suit, with no coat on.

He held up the silver pin between two fingers.

"You left this," he said.

"I left it on purpose."

I walked past him and put my key in the lock.

"Linnet, let me say it inside."

"You can say it from there."

He stood up.

He was a head taller than me, and in the porch light his jaw was tight and his eyes were red at the rims.

"The council voted nine to two," he said. "Nine, Linnet. If I'd refused, the pack would have split, and Northfang would have walked straight through the gap."

"You didn't refuse."

"No."

"You didn't even look at me."

"I couldn't."

"That's not a reason, Rafe. That's a confession."

He flinched at that.

Then he reached into his jacket and took out a folded sheet of paper.

"There's a flat on Elm Street in your name," he said. "Two bedrooms, paid for a year. And the pack will send three thousand a month for as long as you need it."

I looked at the paper.

I looked at him.

Two years of Sunday mornings, and he had a lease ready before the vote.

"You had this drawn up before tonight," I said.

"The council suggested it."

"The council suggested a flat for the girl you're dumping, and you said yes."

"It's meant to be kind."

"Then keep it," I said. "I'll be kind to myself."

I opened the door and went in.

He put his hand flat on the frame, and I felt the whole weight of him lean against it.

"Please," he said, quietly. "Don't do something you can't take back."

"Too late. I'm doing it."

I pushed the door shut, and he let it close.

I stood in the dark hall and listened to him breathe on the other side.

Then his steps went down the porch and away.

My brother's truck came up the road ten minutes later with its headlights on full.

Rodrick came through the door without knocking, carrying a bottle of whiskey and his laptop under one arm.

He was already talking.

"I watched the whole stream in a hotel bar. A woman at the next table cried. I want you to know that I broke a glass."

"Was it expensive?"

"It was MOONHOUSE's glass, so yes, a little."

He set the bottle down and held my face in both hands.

"You okay?"

"No," I said. "Pour."

He poured two fingers each and sat on my kitchen floor with his back against the cabinets, because the chairs were still stacked from Founders' dinner prep.

I sat across from him.

Rodrick had been the public face of MOONHOUSE since the day I signed the first lease.

He gave the interviews and cut the ribbons and wore the good suits.

I did everything else, from a back office where nobody ever asked who I was.

"I need to show you something," he said.

He opened the laptop and turned it toward me.

The reservations inbox showed twelve calls and eight emails from the Ridgeline pack since noon.

All of them were from Ward Standish's assistant.

The newest one had come in four minutes ago.

Subject line: The cancellation must be an error. Please call the owner's office at once.

"They think it's a glitch," Rodrick said. "Or that I did it."

"They'll find out soon enough."

"Linnet, look."

He pulled up a different page.

It was the Ridgeline pack's public feed, and the newest post had gone up while we were sitting there.

It showed a picture of the lodge at night and a line of bold text.

Thanks to the confirmed support of MOONHOUSE's owner, the Blood Moon Gathering will proceed as planned.

Under it were nine hundred likes already.

"I never confirmed that," I said.

"Nobody confirmed that."

"Then who told Ward the owner would say yes?"

My own phone buzzed on the counter.

It was an unknown number, and the message was short.

Whatever you decide, don't tell Ward where you'll be at nine tomorrow. He already knows who you are.

I read it twice and turned the screen toward Rodrick.

He read it and put his glass down very slowly.

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