“It doesn’t change anything. Can we talk about something else?”
“Fine. Let’s talk about why you’re doing this tonight. I can’t believe you’re going through with this, especially after the day you had.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he scoffs. “I’m serious. You endured a shitstorm of a day. You don’t have to do this. You should be at home with your family, working through all of the new developments.”
“Stay out of my head, Odie.”
He growls at my nickname. “Whatever you’re planning, you don’t have to do it. It won’t bring her back.”
I stare out the window. After a while, I finally respond. “Who says I’m only doing this for her?” I ask quietly.
“I’m not. But your whole plan puts your life at risk. It’s suicide. You know it, and I know it.”
The hairs at the back of my neck bristle at his insinuation. Electricity crackles in my palms.
He ignores my brewing anger and continues, “You and I have been friends for a long time. I’m not one to pull punches. I’m saying this because I care about what happens to you. What you’re planning tonight is dangerous. You need to reconsider.”
I clench my jaw and turn away. “What should I do? Hide, like I have been doing my entire life?”
“You’re home now. You have the entire guard at your disposal and then some. There’s a better way to do this.”
“I’m not talking about this anymore.” I gaze out the window, ignoring Odyssey for the rest of the trip. When we are close to the venue, I reach for my mask.
Odyssey places his hand over mine. “It’s not too late. We can turn around and take you home.” I move my hand and adjust my mask into place. He persists, “If we return home, I’m sure Luke will be a very happy guy. Maybe you can finish what he tried to start.”
“Stay out of my head!” I shout.
He scrunches his nose. “Well, you could have at least let him get you off.”
I give him the finger just before we pull alongside the curb. He laughs and steps out of the car.
The backstage of the runway is a catastrophe. Akiyo meets me near the doorway. “Just as I predicted.” She motions for meto follow her through the chaos. I’m more than a little late. I missed the stage rehearsal and sound check.
Odyssey’s and Elijah’s eyes bulge and zoom around the room, finding half-naked, tall, beautiful men and women everywhere. Odyssey’s cheeks turn pink.
I giggle. “You look as if you’ve never seen naked shifters before, Odie.”
He narrows his eyes, making me laugh even more. Elijah recovers from his initial shock and just keeps walking, back in bodyguard mode.
I stand behind the entrance of the stage and peek through the silk, gauzy fabric, adorned with fake diamonds and pearls. I sneak a look at the VIP section. The guards escort my parents, the twins, and Luke to their seats. Chris, Elias and Anders stayed behind to interrogate our prisoner.
I should have stayed behind as well, but honestly, I really don’t want to discover any new revelations. I can barely process everything so far.
All of this—tonight, this runway show—I planned before I learned about my past. I am committed, and I won’t turn back on what I aim to do.
The house is full. Cameras are everywhere. Tonight’s runway show is streaming around the world. I take one last glance at my family. I didn’t think Luke would come. I watch him for a few seconds. He looks sad, unfocused, like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders.
Why must I feel so guilty every time I put my foot down with him? He’s done way worse shit to me.
Letting the curtain fall back into place, I roll my shoulders, suck in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. I look over to Odyssey, and he nods. Elijah nods, too. The host starts his opening monologue, the music starts, and a platform carrying the band Raw rises in the center of the stage. Their lead singer, Ray, plays his Stratocaster.
Charlie steps onto the runway from the opposite side with his guitar and sings the opening lines. When I hear the chorus to “Love Me Like I Want To,” I approach the stage.
I forget everything about today. I forget that I am the newly named successor of the Whitemore pack, the CEO of W&P Corp, Princess Jessica Langhlam, the person formally known as Grit, or even “G,” the rock singer.
I’m me—all of me—heart and soul laid out for everyone to see, to hear. My words, my voice sings for anyone who will listen to my joys, my sadness, my heartache, and my anger.
Chapter 41
Not Here
