Arthur frowns. "You want to use this as a PR opportunity?"


    "That''s not what I''m saying," I protest, although it''s not entirely untrue. "Look, I hate what Selina did. I''m furious and scared


    and I never want her anywhere near Miles again. But I also think that maybe, with the right help, she could be... I don''t know, rehabilitated? And if that happens to boost our public image aspassionate leaders, is that really so bad?"


    "So you''re suggesting we agree to house arrest," Arthur says tly.


    "With conditions," I rify. "Strict ones. She gets psychiatric help, doesmunity service, and most importantly, stays the hell


    from you, me, and Miles. Forever."


    away


    Arthur is quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as he processes this. "I don''t like it," he finally says. "I don''t trust her to abide


    by any restrictions."


    “Neither do I,” I admit. "But we can insist on security measures. Monitoring. Whatever it takes to ensure she doesn''t break the


    rules. And if—or maybe when-she does slip up, then she goes straight to prison. No more chances."


    He studies my face. "Are you sure about this? After everything she''s done?"


    "No," I confess. "I''m not sure about anything. But I do know that letting her rot in prison won''t bring any closure. And if there''s


    a chance that this approach might allow for healing-not just for her, but for my parents too-while also keeping us safe... maybe it''s worth considering."


    Arthur exhales slowly. "You''re too forgiving for your own good, you know that?" "Trust me," I say coldly, my eyes narrowing, "I''m not forgiving her."


    He looks at me for a moment, then nods. "Fine. If this is what you want, then I''ll agree to it. But she gets one chance, Iris. One."


    I nod in agreement. When we return to the study, my parents and Caleb look up expectantly.


    "We''ve discussed it," Arthur announces. "We are willing to agree to house arrest under certain non-negotiable conditions."


    My father tilts his head. "Which are?"


    "First,prehensive psychiatric treatment. Not just medication, but intensive therapy with a professional of our choosing." He nces at me.


    "Second,munity service," I say. "The orphanage where I grew up is in need of repairs and extra assistance. I want her to spend at least twenty hours a week working there, with no pay, and I want her to make a yearly donation to the Ordan National Orphanage Fund for the rest of her life."


    My parents exchange nces, but my mother nods. "That''s reasonable."


    "And third," Arthur goes on, "absolutely no contact with me, Iris, or Miles. Not in person, not by phone, not by letter, not


    through intermediaries. Nothing.''


    +25 Bonus


    "That seems excessive," my father argues, ncing at me. "She is still family. Once her house arrest ends, there may be family


    banquets and public events that you''ll both have to attend."


    "That''s the only exception," I say before Arthur can answer. “But I expect her to be monitored closely during those events. If she pulls any stunts, I want her removed."


    My parents are silent for a long moment, and I almost wonder if they can hear my heart pounding in the quiet room. They might be my biological parents, but I still don''t know them all that well after two and a half decades of separation. Every bit of the human orphan that still exists in me is screaming at me for being so demanding toward the upper echelon of werewolf society.


    "Very well," my father finally says. "We agree to your terms. Selina will be informed tomorrow."


    Arthur nods. "Then we have a deal."


    "Thank you," my mother says, looking relieved. "Both of you. I know this isn''t easy."


    "It''s not," Arthur agrees curtly. "And if she breaks the rules, even once-"


    "We understand," my father interrupts. "And we''ll ensure she does too."


    As we rise to leave, there''s a knock at the door. Ezra enters, looking apologetic. "I''m sorry to interrupt, but Miles is awake and not feeling well," he says, ncing at me and Arthur. "He''s throwing up. And seems to be running a slight fever."


    My stomach jolts, and I jump up from my seat. "We should get him home, Arthur," I say, already moving toward the door.


    "Not in that condition," my mother protests, rising from her own chair. "Why don''t you all stay here tonight? There''s plenty of room, and it will save you traveling with a sick child."


    I nce at Arthur, who shrugs slightly, leaving the decision to me. I really want to


    get home to my studio so I can work on my final piece, but my mother is right. It''s better to let Miles rest.


    "Alright," I say. "We''ll stay."