Chapter 87: Phone
Lorali Pov
"You really know how to waste a person’s time," I say, the wind bowling violently against me, sending my night dress flying in restless ripples. I silently thank myself that this night gown isn’t short. I can imagine the horror of being exposed in the middle of the night on the streets. "You’re lucky I’m even here." Kazair scoffs, his expression dripping with disdain, and tosses a phone toward me. My hand shoots out, catching it before it can fall, fingers tightening around the cold device like it’s a lifeline.
This was supposed to be simple. The plan was that after I slipped into the penthouse, I’d make an excuse to go outside at night and retrieve my phone from Kazair, who would be waiting. That last part didn’t happen. Instead, I had to wait for him, shivering in the cold, the wind biting at my skin. I’m so going to snitch. He’ll pay for making me wait out here like this.
"Oh, by the way," he says, voice casual, "you weren’t completely successful tonight. Torin went public about you, yes, but no one knows it’s you. He kept that part hidden."
"Wait, he actually went public about me?" My voice rises in surprise, disbelief curling around the words. So that’s why Torin was fighting earlier. Interesting. I thought he did something else, not actually go public. Wow. I am amazing, Lorali, the power my tears hold.
"How the fuck didn’t you know? It’s all over the internet." Kazair rolls his eyes, tugging his hoodie tighter against the wind.
"Because I just got my phone back now, idiot."
Kazair is infuriating. He has to be the dumbest yet smartest person alive, if that contradiction makes sense. He asks the most ridiculous questions, and you’d think he’s a fool. But only a fool would think he’s a fool.
"Alright," he clears his throat, clearly finished with me. "I’m done here. I’ve done my job. Please don’t fuck up too soon, I really don’t want to meet you again. Goodbye. Hope the best for you with Spade, besides it all."
Not waiting for me to reply—not that I was going to—he turns and walks into the distant night, his figure swallowed by shadows.
I hope we don’t meet again for a very long time, Kazair. I can’t with your attitude.
Crossing the street, I head back into the penthouse building, my steps quick. I need to hurry. I told Torin to stay put in the room while I fetched the first aid kit to tend to his wounds after the fight. Honestly, I didn’t want to, but I needed an excuse to get him off my back. He’s been watching my every move like a hawk, eyes sharp, suspicion always simmering.
Inside the elevator, I pull out my phone, the screen glowing against the dim interior, and type quickly into the group chat with all four of my best friends:
Me:
Stilll alive. Checking in.
I remember how they forced me to agree to check in every day. If I miss more than three, one of them will come down here themselves, storming into my chaos.
Her Royal Highness:
Almost had a heart attack there wondering why you weren’t checkin ing 😮💨
I chuckle softly at Cleo’s message. It took her mere seconds to reply, almost like she was waiting, hovering over her phone. Had I been a second later, I’m sure she would have ignored the three-day waiting period and flown across the world to fetch me.
Me:
Don’t worry so much about me. How are you and the baby?
Me:
Babies* I keep forgetting you’re having twins.
Cleo, the mother of twins. I wonder how that is going to play out.
Her Royal Highness 👑:
Fine, I’m due in two months and everything hurts. I’m wondering if I should push my wedding back. It’s not like I have to have it—I’m already married—I just wanted a fun ceremony.
Vani:
I think you should push it back. I’ve also postponed my wedding, and so has Arabella. With all that’s happening, it doesn’t make sense to have a wedding now.
Her Royal Highness 👑:
Yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it though. If I still feel like I’ve been run over by a train, I’ll postpone the wedding.
Her words sting me in a way I don’t admit. I really hope I’m not the "all that is happening." I don’t want their lives to be at a standstill because of me. I didn’t even know Arabella was having a wedding, when was it postponed?
Me:
Since when was Arabella having a wedding?
❣️ Cherry Blossoms 🌸:
@YOU Since forever. I’ve always been vocal about having a fairytale wedding. I even said I’d marry one of the guys—or myself—just for a day, just to have my fairytale wedding.
That’s the odd thing about her. She distrusts anything to do with packs, yet somehow she dreams of a fairytale wedding. She’s even willing to marry herself to achieve it. Why she clings to such a dream, I don’t know. Most of us speculate her parents are involved, but she’s never told us anything about them, or how she got to Alma. And I don’t think she ever will.
Me:
I know about your wedding. I just didn’t know it was ever happening for it to get postponed.
❣️ Cherry Blossoms 🌸:
It never had a date. We were just talking about it, and I wanted it to be in summer. But summer has passed, so that’s why Vani is saying it’s postponed.
"Ohh, makes sense," I murmur as the elevator dings on my floor. I step out, walking slowly, my eyes still glued to my phone, forgetting all about the man bleeding out in his room, waiting for aid.
Her Royal Highness 👑:
Speaking of Vani, where is Susie? Shouldn’t she be in the chat?
Vani:
😩
Vani:
Stress. She’s hiding something. She’s never home lately and acts strange when she is. I have no idea what’s happening or how I can help. I think it’s because of that new pack she’s going on dates with, but I’m not sure.
Her Royal Highness 👑:
Susie, if you don’t spill the beans soon about what’s happening, we’ll kidnap you two.
I turn off my phone, slipping it into my bra between my breasts. I know from firsthand experience that they will one hundred percent kidnap Susie if she doesn’t talk. That’s their go-to way of action. Honestly, I’d like to see it happen in a version where I’m not the one being kidnapped, but the one doing the kidnapping.
After grabbing one of the many first-aid kits from the kitchen, I walk up the stairs toward Torin’s room. But I stop when faint voices drift from Walter’s room. Being the busybody I am, I creep closer, pressing my ear against the door.
"Do you think Oracle was involved in Torin’s scheme? Is that why he delayed us from returning?" Walter’s voice is sharp and suspicious. Odd. Why is he suspecting Oracle?
"My brother may be a Torin loyalist, but I don’t think he would ever scheme against you."
He is a Torin loyalist, but he would never scheme against Walter. So where is Walter getting this idea from? I lean further into the door, straining to hear more clearly.
"But Lorali is his fated mate, the one he bonded with. That could have clouded his judgment."
My stomach twists. Oh, so now I’m the problem? This omega is either insecure or crazy. Oracle literally put me through hell for months, and Walter still doubts him. How dumb can you get?
"And yet he is ever so willing to keep his distance from her, all because he cares about you," a voice says—Oril, I think, since the subject at the minute is Oracle, whom he referred to as my brother. "Oracle cares for you, Wals. He would never betray you. I believe this was the work of Torin alone."
There’s a pause, then Walter’s voice softens, almost sheepish. "I suppose you’re right. Maybe he really just wanted pizza."
I nearly choke. Pizza? How was I abused by these idiots? I must have dumbed myself down the moment I entered this house.
The tone shifts, Walter chuckling, the sound light, almost playful. "You look like a pufferfish."
Oril groans, his voice tight with pain. "Was I supposed to let him insult you and me like that?"
Walter sighs, dripping with self‑assurance. "It’s not like what he said was true. I’m not insecure. I know you all love me."
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. Oh, here we go. The self‑pity parade. Someone cue the violins.
Oril’s voice drops, hesitant, almost fragile. "I am a good Alpha to you, right?"
Walter’s reply is soft, intimate, trembling at the edges. "You are the perfect Alpha to me."
Perfect. Indeed he is perfect for you, Walter. No normal omega would ever choose Oril, never, ever. A total man‑child who can’t even get a job, waiting for some miracle to happen to get back his voice.
I’m pulled out of my hate‑train thoughts when I hear the shift in breath, the muffled sounds of lips meeting, voices breaking into gasps.
My stomach churns. Seriously? Right now? With everything falling apart, these two are kissing? These bastards aren’t stressed enough.
Oril’s voice grows rough, guttural, dripping with want. "Let me knot you."
There is so much peace and longing in his tone. No. Not happening. Not while I’m in this house. No one will sleep happy or be in bliss unless I permit it.
My disgust boils over. I slam my knuckles against the door, the knock loud and sharp, slicing through their little fantasy. Inside, I hear Walter gasp, scrambling. "I need to check who it is."
Hearing that, I quickly walk away, clutching the kit tight. The moment he gets a whiff of my scent, he’ll be pissed and go to school miserable. I could dance for joy right now.