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We slip out of Mama B’s office one by one, trying to look casual. My legs feel like jelly, my mind hazy with afterglow. As we head back down the hall toward the noise and chaos of the main arena, I catch Ari’s hand and squeeze it. She squeezes back.

Tonight might be about showing face and supporting Jace in the ring, but this little stolen moment in the back office feels like something even more important. A reminder that even in the middle of all the chaos, the three of us still find ways to come back to each other.

23

Timothy

The soft creak of the front door pulls me out of the half-doze I’ve been drifting in and out of all afternoon. The physical therapist was here this morning, and as humiliating as it is to admit, his workouts kick my ass.

“You know, the staff at the hotel has everything under control.” Graves steps into the living room carrying a large cardboard box under one arm and my laptop bag slung over his shoulder in a way that I’m envious of. If I carried a bag over my shoulder like that, I’d pop a stitch and probably end up back in the ER. “You can take a little longer before you get back into all this.”

“I’m bored out of my fucking mind,” I say, sitting up straighter in the leather armchair. This is the first day I’ve felt well enough to even consider diving back into work. My body is finally starting to feel like mine again. “And I learned a long time ago that if I leave them too long without checking up, everything falls apart.”

“You mean the hotel or the frat?”

“Both.“

“Well, here’s the mail from the hotel,” Graves says, setting the heavy box on the coffee table with a solid thud. “And your laptop.”

I reach for the box, the familiar weight of responsibility settling over me like an old coat. “Thanks.”

Graves doesn’t sit immediately. He stands there watching me sort through the stack of envelopes and packages, his silence heavier than usual. God, I hate it when he does that.

I toss the mail aside and point to the chair. He finally lowers himself into the armchair across from me. He crosses one leg over the other and waits.

“Most things are holding steady,” he begins, voice even. “But there’s a noticeable decline in bookings for graduation weekend. First time since we opened.”

I frown. “Why? We usually sell out months in advance.”

Graves exhales, choosing his words with care. “The news about you being revealed as the King has had some repercussions.”

I lean back, eyebrows raised. “What does that have to do with hotel bookings?”

“You were a trusted businessman, Timothy. A respected fixture in Forsyth. People thought they knew exactly who you were–the polished hotel magnate, the quiet philanthropist. Now they find out you’ve been the Baron King this entire time. It’s a scandal, no matter how you try to spin it.”

“It’s bullshit,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw.

“Well, yes,” Graves says dryly, a flicker of his usual sharpness showing through. “But if you want to do some damage control, you’ll probably have to leave this house at some point and show your face.”

I narrow my eyes at him. We’ve been friends long enough that he doesn’t react.

“At the very least,” he continues, “you need some kind of press release. I’ve held everyone off as long as I can.”

“And by everyone…”

“I mean the non-royals. Trudie Stein has called three times this week. The Mayor wants an update. The Chief of Police has questions. The university board is fielding questions from prospective students. They all want answers, Timothy. Real ones.”

I cross my arms over my chest, feeling the familiar stubbornness rise. “Since when have I given a shit about what any of those people think?”

Graves gives me a long, measured look. “Since you’re no longer the active leader of the House of Night.” His tone is careful but firm. “I know it’s temporary, but as betrayed as you feel about your men, a lot of people feel betrayed by your omissions. You built trust on a foundation that turned out to be half-truths. That stings.”

The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. I hold his gaze, jaw tight.

“I’ll think on it,” I finally say.

“Don’t think too long,” Graves replies, a hint of dry humor creeping back into his voice. “The vultures are circling.”

We sit in weighted silence for a moment before I shift the subject. “How are they doing? DK, Hunter, and Arianette.”