Chapter 18: Alone

Chapter 18: Alone

"Absolutely not," Glenmorrin said instantly, his voice hard as stone.

"They were explicit about it," Reyna said, showing him the message again. "No exceptions. If you accompany him, the meeting is off."

"Then the meeting is off," Glenmorrin said flatly.

"Wait." Jhonatan stepped forward, reading the message himself. "Why would they ask for that specifically?"

"Because the Verrones don't trust outsiders easily," Reyna said. "And right now, in their eyes, Glenmorrin is exactly that—someone with his own agenda, using you to secure his own advantage."

"That's not what this is," Glenmorrin said, frustration sharpening his tone.

"It doesn't matter what it actually is," Reyna said. "It matters what it looks like from the outside."

Jhonatan considered the message for a long moment, something steadying inside him despite the fear still coiled in his chest.

"I'll go," he said.

"No," Glenmorrin said immediately.

"You just told me an hour ago that I needed to learn how to navigate this world," Jhonatan said, turning to face him fully. "This is exactly that. I can't keep hiding behind you every time something gets difficult."

"This isn't about difficulty," Glenmorrin said. "This is about walking into a room full of strangers with more power than either of us, completely alone, while carrying—" He stopped himself, glancing toward Reyna.

"While carrying your child," Jhonatan finished quietly. "I know. I haven't forgotten."

Glenmorrin's jaw tightened, something raw flashing behind his eyes. "Then you understand why I can't just let you walk in there unprotected."

"I won't be unprotected," Jhonatan said. "I'll be prepared. Tell me what to say, what not to say, how to read them. Teach me in the time we have, and trust that I can handle the rest."

Glenmorrin stared at him, torn between the fierce protectiveness Jhonatan had come to recognize and something like reluctant respect.

"This is insane," Glenmorrin muttered, though the fight was already draining out of his objection.

"It's necessary," Jhonatan countered gently.

Reyna glanced between them. "The meeting's in three hours. If we're doing this, we need to move now."

Glenmorrin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, before finally nodding once. "Fine. But you listen to everything I tell you between now and then. Every word."

"I'm listening," Jhonatan said.

For the next two hours, Glenmorrin walked him through everything—who held power within the Verrone family, how they valued directness over flattery, what topics to avoid entirely, how to recognize when a conversation was shifting into a trap disguised as courtesy.

"Elena Verrone will likely be the one you speak with directly," Glenmorrin explained, pacing as he spoke. "She's the head of the family now, took over after her father's death two years ago. She's sharp, doesn't tolerate deception, and respects strength more than desperation."

"What should I ask for?" Jhonatan asked.

"Not help," Glenmorrin said immediately. "Never frame it as a request for charity. The Verrones respect transactions, mutual benefit. Frame it as an opportunity—weakening Castellan benefits them as much as it benefits us."

"And if she asks about us?" Jhonatan asked carefully. "About what happened between me and you?"

Glenmorrin paused, something complicated crossing his expression. "Tell her the truth. That your father tried to sell you to a man who deals in human lives, and I refused to let that happen. Don't mention the pregnancy unless she asks directly. If she does, don't lie. The Verrones respect honesty above almost everything else."

Jhonatan absorbed every word, memorizing names, alliances, old grudges between families that stretched back generations, until his head spun with information he desperately hoped he could recall under pressure.

When the time finally came to leave, Glenmorrin walked him to the car himself, his hand lingering at the small of Jhonatan's back.

"I'll be close," Glenmorrin said quietly. "Not inside, but close enough to move if anything goes wrong."

"I'll be fine," Jhonatan said, with more confidence than he entirely felt.

Glenmorrin caught his hand before he could climb into the car, pulling him back for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically open.

"Come back to me," Glenmorrin said quietly. "Both of you."

"I will," Jhonatan promised.

The drive to the Verrone estate felt endless, Jhonatan running through everything Glenmorrin had taught him, his hands clasped tightly in his lap to hide their trembling.

The estate itself was imposing—old money architecture, manicured grounds, a level of quiet power that spoke louder than any obvious display of wealth could have.

A young man in a tailored suit met him at the door, escorting him through halls lined with portraits of Verrones long past, into a sitting room where a woman waited, poised and watchful.

Elena Verrone looked younger than Jhonatan expected, though her eyes carried a weight that suggested she'd earned her position through more than inheritance alone.

"Mr. Alinsky," she said, gesturing to the seat across from her. "I confess, I'm curious what could bring Glenmorrin's Omega to my door alone."

"I'm not his," Jhonatan said carefully, remembering Glenmorrin's advice about directness. "I'm my own person, here to speak for myself."

Something flickered in Elena's expression—surprise, perhaps, or the beginning of interest.

"Interesting," she said. "Your father certainly didn't raise you to think that way."

"My father raised me to be useful to someone else's ambitions," Jhonatan said. "I'm done being that."

Elena leaned back slightly, studying him with renewed attention. "Then tell me, Mr. Alinsky, exactly what it is you've come to offer me."

Jhonatan took a steadying breath, drawing on every word Glenmorrin had prepared him with.

"An opportunity," Jhonatan said. "To weaken a man who threatens us both."