CHAPTER 8: Two Weeks Each

***RENA***

I had listened in on them longer than I should have.

At first, it was accidental. A pause outside the door. My name carried through the crack in the wood. My feet slowed without permission. By the time I realized I had stopped walking, the conversation had already sunk its claws into me.

They weren’t whispering.

They didn’t think I could hear.

That was the mistake powerful men always made.

They spoke about me like a future already decided.

Two weeks.

Each of them.

One after the other.

I pressed my fingers into my palm to keep my breathing steady. Part of me wanted to laugh—soft and hysterical—because it sounded unreal. Another part of me wanted to run. But running had never saved me before. It had only delayed the inevitable.

Two weeks was nothing.

Two weeks was survival.

I could argue about the length. I could tell them it was too short, too fast, too reckless. But arguments between alphas didn’t end cleanly. Disputes festered. Loyalties shifted. And I did not have the luxury of being the spark that set Silverstone on fire.

What mattered was this—Andrew could not touch me here.

Silverstone was sovereign land. His authority ended at its borders. His accusations meant nothing without proof, and proof had burned with my father’s body.

Here, I was protected.

Here, Thalia would grind her teeth in frustration, watching me live where she could not reach.

That decided it.

I stepped into the room.

Four heads turned.

The reaction was immediate. Shock. Tension. A sharp tightening of the air, like the room itself had drawn breath. They stared at me as though I had materialized from smoke, as though doors and corridors had ceased to exist.

They knew.

They knew I had heard them.

This wasn’t good.

“Simone brought me,” I said quickly, lifting my hand and pointing back toward the hallway. “I knocked. No one answered.”

My voice held, even though my pulse didn’t. I hadn’t lied. I had knocked. They had simply been too absorbed in their discussion to notice the world outside themselves.

Jeremy recovered first.

“You said we don’t need to ask you,” he blurted, eyes bright and unfiltered. “So… you’re in?”

A sharp smack echoed as Kade struck the back of his head.

“That is not how you speak,” Kade said coldly. His pale eyes never left me. “Especially not when the answer could have been no.”

Jeremy winced but didn’t argue.

“It’s fine,” I said before the tension could tighten further. “I’m in.”

The room shifted.

I saw it in Dylan’s shoulders as they eased, in the way his expression softened with concern rather than possession. Kade recalculated immediately, his stance shifting from defensive to procedural. Jeremy grinned, relief spilling out of him without restraint.

Blake did not move. He stood slightly apart, arms loose at his sides, posture relaxed in a way that was more dangerous than tension. His gaze stayed on me, steady and unreadable, like he was weighing something heavier than desire.

They waited.

I felt it—the expectation, the unspoken demand for terms.

“But there’s a condition,” I said.

No one looked surprised.

“Speak,” Blake said.

His voice cut clean through the room—calm, low and final.

“I want to be publicly claimed,” I said. “By one of you.”

Silence fell hard.

“I understand the arrangement stays private,” I continued quickly. “But I won’t exist in secrecy. I won’t be a rumor or a convenience. I want an official engagement. One name. One shield. No one questions it.”

My legs trembled, but I didn’t step back.

Dylan frowned slightly, thinking. Kade’s jaw tightened. Jeremy looked between them, startled.

“That’s… all?” Dylan asked gently.

I nodded. “That’s all.”

Because survival came before romance. Because protection mattered more than pride. Because Andrew would not dare touch what was formally claimed by Silverstone’s ruling line.

Jeremy raised his hand instantly. “Me.

Kade sighed under his breath. Dylan closed his eyes briefly, like he’d expected this.

Blake’s expression didn’t change.

“She’ll be engaged to Jeremy,” Dylan said after a moment. His tone was thoughtful, measured. “He’s visible. Social. Less likely to draw suspicion.”

Jeremy beamed.

“On paper,” Blake said.

Jeremy lifted both hands in surrender. “On paper.”

Relief surged through me, sharp and sudden. I kept my face still.

“Is that all?” Blake asked.

The words should have ended it.

But something inside me refused to settle.

“There’s one more thing,” I said.

Every gaze returned to me.

“I want another engagement announced,” I continued. “To Simone.”

Jeremy nearly fell out of his chair.

The reaction was instant. Surprise flashed across Dylan’s face. Kade stiffened. Jeremy stared at me like I’d detonated a bomb beneath his feet.

“Explain,” Blake said.

“She’s a rogue,” he added calmly. “Public alignment carries consequences.”

“So do I,” I shot back. “I’m a rogue too.”

“No one knows you,” Kade replied. “Everyone knows her.”

Dylan studied me carefully. “You could pass for highborn. Your bearing. Your features. Simone can’t.”

I hated that he was right.

“She’s being mistreated,” I said quietly.

“She’s alive,” Kade countered. “Sheltered. Protected by pack law.”

“That isn’t the same as being respected,” I said.

“Silverstone cannot erase prejudice by pretending it does not exist.”

I nodded. “Then soften it.”

“And let’s say you saved Simone, there are hundreds of rogues seeking shelter in Silverstone, what happens to the rest? Saving one doesn’t really help the stats still, most are still suffering.” Jeremy muttered, and the rest looked at him surprised.

“Oh, how much are we going to suffer with you in this future for this wisdom you've exhibited so far?” Dylan spoke up while Jeremy threw daggers with his eyes.

Wait! Was I going to be engaged to the group clown?

Who the fuck takes the fiancée of a clown seriously???

“SERENA???!” I heard someone yell my name, snapping me back to the present.