Walter

One Week Later

"She’s going to die before she leaves this house," Augi mutters, his spoon scraping against the side of his protein yogurt cup.

I know exactly who he’s talking about, Lorali. She looks like she’s dying, high‑key dying, and over the past few months her condition has only worsened. It’s gotten so bad I can’t even look at her without feeling a stab of guilt, though I shouldn’t. Everything I did was necessary. We all agreed on that. So why does Augi suddenly seem against it?

I used to think he ignored Lorali simply because he couldn’t be bothered with her, but now I see something different. Over the past weeks, Augi has been relentless. Every second of the day, without missing a beat, he’s demanded we take Lorali to a clinic or at least let her rest from the dissenting cream. But we can’t. Yurena said so. She told us we’re closer than ever to making her leave, and all we have to do is hold on a little longer. This will all be over soon.

"I agree with Augi this time. I think we need to take her to a clinic or something. She looked really bad this morning," Oracle says, his voice calm as his hands sort through the pile of mail stacked on the counter. He hasn’t done that in weeks, yet now he’s carefully dividing letters for each of us.

"Why do you even care?" I snap, placing my plate in the sink before turning to face him across the island.

"Because, no matter how evil she may be, she’s still a person, Walter." His tone is steady, unshaken, and he doesn’t even bother to look up at me once he’s finished speaking.

"Fine. Let’s take her to the hospital. But then you two better have answers when the doctor asks how four grown Alphas and one Delta let their omega get into such a state. And she will be referred to as Pack Spade’s omega, because legally she is." My hands slam against the table, the sound sharp.

I look like I don’t care about Lorali’s condition, but I do. Even after she cost me the Kisan deal, even after she revealed her true colors, I still want her to find a pack of her own, to know happiness.

"We’ll handle that problem when we’re there and she’s been treated," Augi says firmly, speaking up in her defense.

Augi, the most selfish of us, a man who only cares for a handful of people. Why does he care for Lorali?

"You’re getting soft. Both of you. This is exactly what that girl wants, for you to loosen your guard," Yurena says, rising from the couch and striding into the kitchen. Augi mutters something under his breath, rolling his eyes as she approaches.

"Think. If she dies, you’ll be free. It’s not like anyone will miss her or come looking for her."

My eyes widen at Yurena’s words. She speaks of death so casually, as if it’s nothing. She wants Lorali dead. But why?

"With all due respect, you’re wrong, Aunty. Look here." Oracle gestures to the largest pile of letters out of the seven. "Every week, she receives the most mail out of all of us, from four different people. Even though she never writes back, they keep sending her letters."

It’s true. Lorali always gets the most letters, from the same four people. She doesn’t know that, though. Yurena ordered us to burn them every time they arrived.

The truth sits heavy in the room, the silence thick. Lorali may look like she’s fading, but somewhere out there, people still care for her. People still reach for her, even if she never sees their words.

"Why should we care about a couple of letters from a few insignificant people?" Yurena scoffs, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"But that’s the thing, Aunty, these people are not insignificant. Unless you’d call the First Lady of this country insignificant." Oracle’s voice cuts through the room. He reaches into the pile of Lorali’s mail and pulls out a letter. "This is Lorali’s priority invitation to First Lady Vanya’s engagement party. It’s happening soon." He places the envelope directly into Yurena’s hand, his eyes daring her to dismiss it.

Before she can respond, Oracles snatches another letter from the stack. "And this one, this is for Future Queen Cleo Riverbend’s coronation." He presses it into her palm as well, his movements precise, his tone growing colder. "Are these people insignificant to you, Yurena? Because they aren’t to the world. And they sure as hell won’t be to your dear son."

Oracle speaks louder, his voice calm but his body taut with restrained fury. "If Lorali dies and these people come after us, we’ll be in for a shitshow that Torin won’t appreciate." His words hang heavy in the air, and though his tone is measured, I can see the storm brewing beneath his composure.

Before Yurena can deliver the snarky comeback that would surely push Oracle over the edge, the main door swings open.

Unexpectedly, Torin walks in, the motherfucker who’s been gone on a business trip for over half a year. His face is lit with the brightest smile, as if he’s just hit the jackpot. But the moment his eyes land on his mother, the smile falters, and I can see him contemplating leaving again.

"Mother..." Torin drags the word out, his voice wary, as he steps closer to the kitchen. "How, why are you still here? I thought you’d gone back home by now." He reaches out to hug Yurena.

"Hello to you too, Torin," Yurena replies, sounding pissed but still embracing him.

"Torin, you’re back already? I thought you’d take another fifty years," Oracle jokes, leaning back on his kitchen stool.

"Sorry I took so long. I know I said I’d only be gone for a month, but while I was there I met up with an old friend who offered me the deal of a lifetime." Torin’s excitement returns, his face glowing. Whatever it is, it must be monumental because Torin never gets excited otherwise.

"Well then, out with it," Oracle presses, and the rest of us lean in, waiting to know.

Torin clears his throat, his voice swelling with pride. "Spade Industries is going international. We are finally breaking through the country!" He shouts the words, smiling wide, and I clap my hands even though I don’t understand half of what he just said. I’m just happy he’s happy.

"Well done, Torin. I can’t think of anyone other than you who deserves this," I say, smiling. He rushes around the counter and hugs me tightly.

"Thank you so much for that. You have no idea how much that means to me." His voice is genuine, his gratitude raw, and for a moment I feel a flicker of happiness. At least there is finally some light in our lives.

"So what’s the catch? Breaking out of the compounds of your country is insanely hard. This deal you entered has to have a catch." Augi’s voice cuts in, skeptical as always.

"Well... there is no catch. It’s a business deal, Augi, not a deal with the devil." Torin pulls away from the hug, his tone defensive.

"Oh really? So nothing is going to be required from us at all?" Augi presses, his eyes narrowing.

Torin pauses. "Well, no. We have to give the front of a united pack. No more fuck‑ups. Especially from you, Augi. You cannot hit anyone anymore."

"I haven’t hit anyone in the past six months. I’ve been keeping my calm, so you don’t have to worry about me," Augi scoffs, rolling his eyes. It’s true, he’s been a lot calmer lately. He doesn’t go on rage campaigns nearly as often as he used to, and the house has been quieter because of it.

"And I’m proud of you for that," Torin says warmly, walking over to Augi and patting him on the head.

Augi flinches, startled by the sudden act of affection. His eyes widen, as if he’s unsure whether to be offended or touched.

"Okay, who are you, and what have you done with our Torin?" Oracle blurts out, genuine concern in his voice.

Torin laughs, brushing off the comment with a wave of his hand. "Don’t be ridiculous, guys. I’m thinking we should all spend more time together, you know, as a real pack should. It’s about time we became a united front."

His words surprise all of us. We exchange glances, silent, uncertain. Torin has never spoken like this before.

"Wait, before I continue, where is Lorali? She needs to hear this." He’s already looking around, scanning the room, his tone casual but his intent clear.

"Why do you need her?" Oracle asks, his voice sharp, suspicion lacing every syllable.

Torin pauses his search and turns to face him. "Well, this whole deal kind of rides on whether she likes us." He says it calmly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The room goes silent. Awkwardly silent. So silent you can hear the birds chirping outside, their song cutting through the tension.

Torin notices the shift immediately. His eyes sweep across the room, scanning each of us, reading the unease. Finally, his gaze lands on his mother.

"What the fuck have you done?"