“We investigated on our own,” Elliot declares as he produces a small rectangle from his coat pocket. It’s a secured drive, one I’ve seen him carry before. It’s etched with Ravenwood Shield Security’s logo.
“Did you,” my mother says.
Nolan looks her straight in the eyes. “Yes, we had to be sure that all threats to both Piper and Prince Kellen were taken care of.”
And it’s clear that Piper’s security was of lesser priority to my parents. I can see why Nolan and Elliot took this extra step.
My father gives a nod, one eyebrow up. “Go ahead, Mr. Blaine.”
Elliot’s face remains confident. “We monitored the digital trail surrounding the leak, as well as attempted sabotage to the Palace’s crisis response. The signature is not consistent with Palace IT. In fact, it’s not even state infrastructure.”
“Then what is it?” my mother asks.
Elliot looks to Nolan, who takes over for him. “The hack was routed through three dead-drop proxies, but the original upload came from the servers at Reverie Rest.” He glances at Piper.
Piper’s jaw slides open. Not even she knew what Elliot and Nolan had found.
“I don’t…” The color drains from Piper’s face, leaving her freckles standing out like constellations against suddenly pale skin.
Elliot continues. “Raelynn Roberts orchestrated it. We have time stamps, message logs, and a copy of the contract addendum that would have made Piper’s omega status a matter of public record within a month, regardless.”
Piper lets out a shaky breath. “I can’t say I’m surprised, just exhausted. Like what thefuck.”
The queen’s eyes narrow.
I clear my throat in an effort to remind Piper she’s in front of royalty.
My mother lifts her hand. “Was Raelynn acting alone?”
Nolan answers this time. “No evidence of a third party. She moved fast. She even tried to get ahead of any Palace counter-spin.” He looks at me with a soldier’s pride. “We confirmed the source an hour ago. Wanted your words first, before anything became … adversarial.”
The king leans back and steeples his fingers. “So. This wasn’t a royal play. And now everyone in the world knows not just your pack structure, but your designations.” He looks at me as if weighing my soul. “You realize, son, that you’re not only breaking tradition, you’re vaporizing it.”
I almost smile, but the weight of the moment keeps my mouth in check. “I’m aware.”
My mother’s eyes move from Elliot to Nolan to Piper, then back to me. For a split second I see her not as a monarch but as a woman who wants her child to be safe and happy, and maybe not make international news with his relationship choices. “Explain to us, Kellen, why this is so important.”
I breathe in, and every instinct tells me to be diplomatic, but I find I can’t. “Because this is who I am. This is whoweare. And the old system never cared about any of us as people, just as pawns. I want to build something different, where I—we—choose this, not a Council who only looks at family trees before picking.” I swallow hard and say the hardest thing they need to hear. “And I need you to understand, if you ever want to see me again, that this is my family now.”
The words hang in the air. Elliot’s fingers press into my forearm, anchoring me to the moment. The air thickens with notes of vanilla and cherries, and wraps around us like silk, making my next breath catch in my throat.
The king’s gaze is implacable. “And if we were to say no?”
“I’d still walk out with them,” I say, steady. “And I’d do it on camera, with or without a crown.”
My mother’s composure breaks. Her mouth trembles, and I think she’s about to stand up and hug me, but then she regains herself and says, “Let it be known in the record: Prince Kellen Hale is granted the freedom to form his own pack, with all privileges thereof.”
A beat. The king nods, and that’s it. There’s no applause, no emotional group hug, just a transfer of power that ripples through the room and the generations behind us.
It’s done.
I stand, a little shakily, and the others follow. Nolan’s jaw twitches, and Elliot’s spine uncoils just a little. Piper is blinking back tears.
“Thank you,” I tell my parents.
They both incline their heads. My mother smiles up at me. “You’re welcome. Now, go.”
We don’t linger in case they change their minds. The doors open. There’s already a line of diplomats and aides waiting touse the room for whatever crisis is next on the list. But for now, for these next five seconds, my pack has won.
