Chapter 17
55 vouchers
It had been four days since the blowup. Since I walked in on my ex–best friend and my ex–boyfriend and found out, in the worst possible way, what they really thought of me.
I was trying to be a better person. A calmer one. Maybe someone who didn’t get into screaming matches with the people who used to know her best. Someone who didn’t cling to the idea of community after losing the only two people she thought she could count on. Someone who didn’t stress–bake muffins on a Sunday morning just to feel less alone.
But somehow 24 apple–cinnamon muffins ended up on my counter.
They weren’t great–one batch came out sunken and the others overbaked–but I boxed them up anyway and knocked on the door of the apartment next to mine. I’d seen the guy in passing, always with his hoodie up and a mask on, leaving early and coming home after
dark.
No answer.
I was about to turn away when I heard a rustling sound.
The door opened a crack. He was tall and pale, with dark, deep–set eyes above the mask. “What?”
“Hi” I said, holding up the lopsided box. “I’m your neighbor. These are muffins. For… peace and goodwill.” As soon as I said it, I wanted to shrink into the floor. Peace and goodwill? Who was I, a Hallmark card?
He stared. I couldn’t tell if he was judging me or if that was just his resting face.
He blinked at the box. “Are these… for me?”
Yeah, I said, shifting my weight. “Muffins. They’re not very good, but I made too many.”
There was a beat of silence. Not uncomfortable, just… blank.
Thank you,” he said, voice flat but not unkind.
Another pause. Then, “Hey–have you seen a small dog around here? Brown fur, kind of scruffy looking? She slipped out.”
“Oh I said. “No, I haven’t. Do you want help looking?”
His eyes widened. “Yes.”
We ended up searching the alley behind the building together. It was awkward. He barely spoke. I made small talk until I spotted the tiny brown mutt cowering behind a trash bin.
He crouched down, murmuring softly, and the dog bounded into his arms like it had been waiting for him all day.
When he looked up, he lowered his mask.
His face was sharp, almost delicate, but not unkind.
“Thank you” he said. “I’m Simon.”
1 smiled. “Amelia”
A few days later, I stayed late at work catching up on reports. The pack house was quiet, the sun long gone.
My boss, Mr. Kellon, stepped into the break room where I was sorting files. “Still here?”
“Almost done,” I said.
“Could you do me a favor? There’s a folder in my office I need for the council session tomorrow. I’d get it myself, but…”
He gave a weird inde simile–like he thought we were in on something, even though I had no idea what it was. It made my stomach tighten. Still, I stood. “Sure”
His office was down the hall. I stepped inside and started scanning the shelves.
3:51 PM P P.
Chapter 17
The door clicked shut behind me.
I turned. He was there, leaning against the frame.
“You’re doing great here, Amelia,” he said. “Really impressive work.”
I tried to keep my voice steady. “Thanks. I’ll just grab those files.”
IVATE HER
55 vouchers
He stepped closer. “Thing is, performance evaluations aren’t always about numbers. Sometimes it’s about chemistry. Willingness. The right kind of ambition.”
I took a slow breath, heart hammering in my chest. Every nerve in my body screamed that something was wrong. I smiled tightly and backed up a step toward the desk, keeping my expression neutral.
With one hand, I reached behind me and hit dial–Emma’s name lit up on the screen. She was my closest colleague at work, and probably the closest thing I had to a best friend now, even if most of our friendship lived in between memos and coffee breaks. 1 pressed the call button and set the phone down face–down, angled so the mic would catch everything.
He was closer now. Too close.
“You know,” he said, voice low and a little too friendly, “a permanent position here could be yours. You’ve got potential. Real potential. And the kind of drive we need.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
“It’s just about understanding how things work around here. Give and take.” He leaned in slightly. “I help you, you help me. Everyone
wins.”
My skin crawled. My throat tightened.
I’m here to do the job,” I said, voice shaking but steady. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
He gave a lazy grin. “That’s not what Jason said.”
That sent a spike of cold through my chest. “Excuse me?”
He gave a slow shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Jason said you were… eager. That you knew how to play the game if it came down to it. I figured this would be easier than dragging it out.”
1 felt sick. My stomach flipped so hard I had to grip the edge of the desk. Jason said what? That I was willing? That I’d trade myself for a job?
He was still talking, unaware–or maybe just uncaring. “He said you’d do anything to keep your spot. That you didn’t like playing fair. So 1 figured, why not skip the performance review and get to the point?”
My skin went cold Jason–who had always been civil, who smiled just enough to make me question whether I was imagining the condescension–sold me out. And I wasn’t even surprised. Not really. I’d had a feeling about him from the beginning. I just hadn’t wanted to be right.
Before I could reply, the door unlocked and swung open,
Richard stood in the doorway, master keycard in hand.
His voice was sharp and flat. “What’s going on here?”
Mr. Kellon straightened, his expression morphing instantly. “She approached me. About securing the permanent position.”
Richard didn’t blink Promotions are based on merit.”
I stopped away from the desk and moved to stand beside him. My heart was still pounding.
Richard glanced between us, his jaw set. Then, calmly and clearly, he said, “I suggest you both get back to work.”
Finally felt the weight of everything that had just happened settle in, a dense pressure that tightened in my chest. I didn’t know what I’d expected from him–maybe a quiet dismissal, maybe nothing at all–but it hadn’t been this the timing, the quiet control, the way he stood there like I wasn’t just a problem to solve.
2/4
3:51
Chapter 17
B55 vouchers
I couldn’t tell if that calm look on his face meant he believed me or if he was just giving me time to hang myself with my own story. That uncertainty hummed beneath my skin, sharp and unshakable. But layered beneath it was gratitude. Gratitude that he came, that he said what he said, that for a second I didn’t feel completely alone in the room.
Mr. Kellon muttered something under his breath and I exited fast. I didn’t move until I heard the door click behind me.
The next morning, Kellon reassigned my project to someone else.
“Just streamlining,” he said. “You’ll be on general support detail for now.”
I said nothing. I didn’t have to.
An hour later, word spread: he’d been reassigned to oversee voter coordination in a border district.
It was the administrative version of exile.
The event two days later was massive. The proceeds were going to support orphaned children and retired warriors–two groups no one in the capital seemed to pay attention to until it was convenient. Bright fabrics, hand–stitched banners, rhythmic drums, laughter. My job was logistics and water station duty. Simple, safe.
Richard arrived late, surrounded by his usual wall of alphas and aides, but he stepped away from them easily, talking to guests in calm, respectful tones.
Emma nudged me while I restocked water bottles. “You’ve been staring.”
I startled. “What?”
You like him.”
1 rolled my eyes. “He’s just… different than people think.”
“You think the King is soft?”
1 didn’t answer.
The Elders arrived halfway through the ceremony, instantly drawing attention. Whispers followed them. Faction tension. Power shifts.
1 kept my head down and handed out water. The sun was hot, the lines were long, and I focused on the rhythm–pour, hand off, repeat. A little girl dropped her paper cup and started crying. I knelt to help her and handed her a new one with a wink. She smiled, shy and sticky, and ran off.
At the registration tent, someone shouted about their name being missing from the list. Security stepped in, voices rising, and then calming
Nearby, the Elders were deep in conversation with Richard, their expressions tight controlled. One of them kept glancing over his shoulder. Another refused a drink someone offered. A few reporters hovered like vultures, watching.
A microphone stand tipped over behind me with a crash, startling everyone within ten feet. Someone laughed nervously. Someone else muttered about how hot it was.
Tension buzzed around the edges of everything. Like everyone was waiting for something to go wrong. Then one of the Elders staggered.
At first, I thought he was just lightheaded. Then his knees buckled.
Then he collapsed.
Screams. A rush of movement
Jason’s voice cut through the chaos. “It’s bert She poisoned Elder Thorne!”
Cameras turned Faces snapped toward me.
“What?” I breathed.
Jason pointed directly at me. “She was handing out water. You all saw it.”
3/4
3:51 PM P P
Chapter 17
I froze. My heart pounded.
And then Richard stepped in front of me.
“That’s enough,” he said, voice steady.
10
55 vouchers
He raised a hand to block the cameras. “The event is suspended. Secure the scene. We will investigate thoroughly–without speculation.”
AD
