Chapter 237
That brought me up short.
+25 BONUS
I turned toward him fully now, curiosity piqued, and in doing so, my knee brushed his–briefly, accidentally–and I stiffened. His gaze didn’t flinch. If anything, I thought I saw the faintest flicker of amusement behind those storm–colored eyes. “Were you serious,” he asked, voice smooth but suddenly sharpened by something deeper, “about setting up a foundation to rehabilitate rogues?”
I blinked, caught off guard by the pivot. “I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.”
His gaze held mine a moment too long–not in an aggressive way out with the kind of focus that made my pulse tick up, like he was cataloging something in me and deciding how real it was.
“Good,” he said finally, with the smallest nod. “Because I think it a great idea. And I’d like to be involved.”
I laughed before I could stop myself–softly, disbelieving. “You? You want to help start a charity?”
“Surprised?”
“Very,” I admitted, letting my eyes rake over him with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. “You’re in Wolf Whistle every other week with a different she–wolf draped on your arm. You’re not exactly known for your… community engagement.”
He leaned back slightly, one elbow resting on the bar, wholly unbothered. “People make assumptions,” he said with a shrug, ” I’m not responsible for their projections.”
Touche.
I studied him for a beat longer, trying to gauge the angle. Was this flirtation dressed up in civic interest? Or something real? “And why do you care about rogue rehabilitation?” I asked. “Really.”
His expression shifted–his posture didn’t, but something behind his eyes turned. The charm didn’t vanish, exactly, but it pulled back just enough to make space for something more sincere
“Because the system’s broken,” he said simply. “You know it. I know it. There’s no structure. No reintegration. No mercy. Just punishment. That’s not leadership. That’s fear disguised as control.”
I blinked, surprised by the weight behind the words. It was strange hearing something so clear–eyed from someone who’d always seemed… ornamental. But the way he said it–calm, certain quietly frustrated–hit a nerve.
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card. Simple. White. Embossed. He held it out between two fingers.
“Call me,” he said. “If you’re serious, I want in. I’ve got resources. And I know how to move things through Council channels.”
I took it, fingers brushing his as I did. The card was heavier than I expected. Thick paper. Silver foil. His name. His number. The Stormvale crest gleaming in the corner like a stamp of legitimacy.
When I looked up again, he was already standing, straightening his jacket with a casual tug.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said, the words slipping out before I could catch them.
He glanced back over his shoulder, a crooked smile playing at his lips.
“No one ever is,” he said. “That’s the problem.”
And then he walked away, leaving his drink untouched and the space beside me inexplicably colder.
I stared down at the card in my hand.
Maybe this was it. The next chapter. The beginning of something new. Something that wasn’t about survival or scandal or
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Chapter 237
heartbreak–but about building.
About change.
And Goddess help me, the man might be an infuriating flirt, but he was right. The system was broken.
+25 BONUS
I slipped the card into my purse and turned back to the bar, suddenly aware of the quiet hum of conversation around me, clink of glasses, the soft swell of piano music from somewhere deeper in the lobby.
Somewhere out there, Maggie was sitting in a cell.
Somewhere out there, Derek was probably pacing his hotel room, waiting for me to cool down.
the
And somewhere in between–between endings and beginnings, grief and grace–I was figuring out who I wanted to be next.
Because I couldn’t go back.
Not after everything.
But maybe, just maybe, I could go forward.
