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“I appreciate the apologies,” Jane notes, and she offers a giddy smile to me and Sulli sitting together. “As my brother Tom would say, as you were.”
Take it back, some vultures here are more like gooses, wanting to lead chickadees into the world. Jane is happy for me like I’m a baby bird dating for the first time. And I am new to relationships, even more than Sulli, who dated the Rooster.
Only I’m not looking to be pushed towards Sulli without Akara.
I’m not sure what it’ll take for people to understand that.
“Thanks, Jane,” Sulli says. “Sorry, Luna, Moffy.”
Luna lifts her big taco bowl. “I have enough here. I’m okie dokie.”
“Artichokey,” Sulli finishes with a smile.
“You-gnocchi,” Luna sing-songs with a grin.
Sulli fist-bumps the air.
Luna air-bumps back.
All’s right in one friendship.
She zeroes in on Maximoff.
“I’m good with my plate,” he tells her with a nod, then spoons applesauce to his son on a highchair. “You’re okay, Sul. Just don’t let my dad see the Great Taco Slaughter. He’d convulse.”
“Oh no way, I’m not inviting Uncle Lo here.” She exhales another breath, like she worried they would’ve evicted her over spilt beef. They love her too fucking much to kick her out of the penthouse.
Akara snaps a finger to his palm. “Okay, SFO and Maximoff already know what the security meeting is about, and we’re here to catch the girls up.”
Sulli’s shoulders drop. “God, not another fucking pervert. Please tell me no one’s stalking Jane again.”
The pervert. I tense, remembering the night I detained a sick fucker that security called Sneakers. Middle-aged, his dick out as he leered over Jane’s bed in the now-burned-down townhouse.
I blink back the image.
“No one’s stalking Jane,” Akara assures.
Jane steeples her fingers. “And no one’s stalking Luna or Sulli?”
Thatcher pipes in, “No stalkers, honey.”
The girls noticeably ease.
“What then?” Luna asks, looking more at her brother. “Is it Dad?”
“No,” Maximoff shakes his head. “Not dad.”
Akara cuts in before the guessing grows. “It’s a website that Donnelly found a few days ago. It’s called The Royal Leaks.”
“Oh…fuck,” Sulli curses.
Jane tenses, and Luna is harder to read.
“So far,” Akara continues, “they’ve posted three leaks about Maximoff, Jane, and Sulli, and all have been true. Including the fourth one posted today.”
Sulli bristles, her head swerving to me. “What leak was about me?”
“I’d like to know them too,” Jane says with a raise of her hand.
We all start showing the girls. Thatcher reveals them to Jane, Maximoff to Luna, and Akara passes me his phone. I angle the cell to Sulli, showing her the three old leaks. The patio quiets except for the pitter-patter of Orion and Arkham chasing each other around the tables.
Her mouth drops. “Birth control?” Her voice is simultaneously quiet but loud. “How’d they fucking know that?”
Akara answers before I can, “We don’t know yet, Sulli.”
She winces, and I hug her more against my side and show her the newest leak.
THE ROYAL LEAKS
We reveal all the truths about the American Royals. These are verified and come directly from the source.
ROYAL LEAK #1: Jane Cobalt is planning to schedule an egg retrieval surgery. She’s freezing her eggs for Farrow & Maximoff Hale’s future child.
#TodaysLeaks #babynews! #AnotherRoyal
“They’re not even using our correct surnames,” Jane says like she’s investigating the article. Currently, Akara and I are coming up with an ass-load of nothing as Hardy Boys, so maybe Jane can be our Nancy Drew.
Farrow slings his head back to look at Jane. “To the public, you’re always going to be a Cobalt, Cobalt.”
“Is it true?” Luna asks Jane. “About the egg retrieval?”
Sulli whispers loudly to me, “The Seasons are tensing.” The Seasons are what Luna and Sulli nicknamed Thatcher, Jane, Farrow, and Maximoff.
“Farrow doesn’t tense,” I tell her. “He’s leaning back on his chair.”
“He definitely looks concerned, though.”
“It’s true,” Jane answers with a deep frown. “I haven’t scheduled the procedure yet, and the only people who knew about the plan were Thatcher, Farrow, Moffy, and me.”
Sulli freezes. “So how did this leak?” No one even suggests The Seasons as options. They wouldn’t betray each other. Those four are close.
So close that I’d submit an application for Farrow as Thatcher’s New Best Friend. Akara has been fucking ousted of the position since charades night.
Hell, maybe the fracture started even before then. When we both missed his wedding.
I tense thinking of that night.
The patio tenses thinking of the leaks. Everyone knows the answer to Sulli’s “who-done-it” questions can’t be a good one.
Maximoff is already sitting stiffly like he’s made of iron.
“Merde,” Jane curses in French.
I hug Sulli tighter while worry etches across her face. Security threats are our job to handle, but this one is a shot in the fucking dark.
We have no good leads.
My brother stands up and goes to his wife to console her. He crouches down to her chair, and they talk hushed together.
