Chthonic Tonic

Rouge slowly arrowed through the photo gallery on Amy’s old, beat-up iPac laptop, cigarette pinched between the ring and middle fingers of her other hand. Amy sat in her usual spot before Rouge’s desk, hands folded in her lap and worrying at the seams of her gloves. The silence drug on, bloating like a corpse in the sun. Amy waited patiently for it either to burst, releasing a swarm of grave flies, or to rise and rip her face off.

Amy decided to just get on with it. “I want to apologize for screaming at you.” She said, breaking the silence like a dropped wine glass.

“Forgiven.” Rouge didn’t even look up. “Now shut up. I’m thinking.” To say she was prickly would be to criminally understate the situation.

Eventually, Rouge leaned back. She took a long drag from her cigarette as she stared intently at the screen. She blew a smoke ring that hit the computer and dispersed, wispy white tendrils fading quickly. Rouge stabbed her cigarette out in the ash tray on her desk and slammed the laptop closed. Amy flinched.

Rouge’s teal eyes bore into Amy’s soul, her expression sharply stoic, like an obsidian arrowhead. Amy swallowed slowly, feeling the creeping impulse to run like the prey she was.

Shadow had offered to take her wherever she needed to go, but she hadn’t felt comfortable making Rouge aware of their relationship just yet. Shadow hadn’t pressed the issue, simply wished her good day and had left. The moment she arrived at the campaign office, she’d been summoned directly into Rouge’s office, dealing with Amy seemingly getting top billing on Rouge’s schedule.

In all her schoolgirl pining over Shadow in the last month, she really hadn’t thought at all about the practical aspects of being with him. In her head, their lives outside each other were benign and nebulous, little more than blurry blots of color. But in reality, Shadow had responsibilities. Big ones. He ran whole companies after all, and Amy really needed to temper her expectations as far as the availability of his attention was concerned. And then there was the whole money situation…namely how he had a lot and she hadn’t any.

Yeah, Amy sure needed to think long and hard about a lot of things, but she couldn’t really at the moment given how terrified of Rouge she was.

Rouge shot to her feet and Amy startled. Her boss(?) grabbed Amy’s laptop and rounded her desk. “Shut the window and follow me.” She ordered and Amy rose obediently. Rouge left her office and shouted “Espio!” Busy staffers didn’t so much as flinched, used to these sorts of outbursts from the mayoral candidate. Across the room, a purple chameleon straightened from leaning over a workstation. “Now!” Rouge jabbed her finger towards an occupied conference room. Espio grimaced and said something to the person he’d been talking to.

Rouge pushed open the conference room door and entered without invitation, with Amy meekly following behind. Those gathered inside stopped and turned to her. “I’m sorry everyone,” She announced, “But I need this room. I’m afraid it’s an emergency.” Amy recognized some of the occupants as volunteer organizers. On one wall, a projector cast a slide deck concerning canvasing goals in different neighborhoods.

“Yes, ma’am.” The pheasant woman leading the meeting closed her laptop and the presentation disappeared. The others looked confused, but followed suit and exited the room, leaving Amy and Rouge alone. Rouge sank into the chair at the head of the table, her wings fanning out behind her, and placed Amy’s laptop down with a clatter. If Rouge broke it, Amy could just ask Shadow for a new one. Amy grimaced.

“Sit.” Rouge told her and Amy obliged, a few chairs away from the bat. Rouge clucked her tongue. “What am I going to do with you?” She asked rhetorically. Amy looked down, unable to hold Rouge’s fierce gaze. A faint fear of literally being eaten played around in the back of her mind.

Amy bit the inside of her lip. She hated how Rouge always made her feel so small. Like a child. Amy felt like she’d been sent to the principal’s office. Still, she had been going along with it too…to some extent the way she felt was Amy’s fault for allowing Rouge to treat her like this.

Well not anymore! Amy rustled up some of that gumption she’d had this morning and opened her mouth-

Espio burst into the room, an irritated grimace on his face, and Rouge gestured at the laptop. Amy clapped her mouth shut. Rouge’s campaign manager gave Amy a once over with one of his eyes and picked up the well-used computer. Both eyes back together, he scanned the screen. “St. John? What am I looking at?”

Rouge leaned forward and he moved the device so that she could work the touchpad. “Start here and flip them fast like a movie.” Espio grunted and sat in the seat between Rouge and Amy. As the chameleon perused Amy’s photographs, Rouge propped her feet up on the table, crimson soles of her dangerously sharp pumps on display, and continued to stare at the pink hedgehog with an expression that Amy couldn’t place. Something like appraisal. Was Amy a piece of meat or a precious jewel, there was no telling.

“Ah.” Espio said at last. He closed the laptop and stood. Passing behind Amy, he began to pace the length of the conference room, hands on his hips and head bent. Rouge watched him silently. Amy’s fingers dug into the fabric of her jeans. She should say something, right? She wasn’t sure what she had expected (other than being fired immediately), but this tense silence certainly wasn’t it.

What was there to think about? Geoffrey struck his wife. That was assault. He committed a crime and she had irrefutable evidence. Shouldn’t Rouge be upset? Amy was starting to feel like she was the one in the wrong. Mrs. St. John didn’t seem to care, Rouge didn’t seem to care. Was Amy going crazy? You can’t just do that. You can’t just hit someone so hard they fall without consequences…right?

“Ready.” Espio said, coming to halt.

“On three.” Rouge held up three fingers. “Three, two, one.” She counted down.

“Bury it.” She and Espio said simultaneously.

“What?!” Amy shot up. “You can’t be serious! He hit her! He- He hurt her!”

“Put a pin in that.” Rouge said, conversationally. “How do you know Geoffrey St. John, Amy?”

Amy froze and all the fight drained from her. Oh. Wow. Good going, Amy. She was so stupid. Of course, Rouge would want to know why Geoffrey said they were friends. He was lying, Amy wanted to lie. I’ve never met him before in my life. She didn’t want to talk about this. But this was about justice, not what she wanted.

“We went to the same high school.” Amy recited mechanically.

When Amy made no move to continue, Rouge hummed. “Ah huh. Is that it?”

Amy connected her hands, thumbs digging into the seams of her gloves. “We weren’t even in the same class. He was two years older.” Her throat was going dry. She could get through this. Don’t lie, no matter how much she wanted to. Rouge would clock that immediately. Don’t lie…but maybe she could just minimize everything down to flat facts. “His brothers were in my ye-.”

“Hold the phone.” Rouge interrupted. She pointed at Espio.

“I’m looking.” He typed furiously on his phones, an eye on each.

Amy frowned, confused. “What?”

“You said brothers.” Rouge frowned. “Plural. Geoffrey St. John only has one brother.”

Amy shook her head. “No.” She swallowed and she sank back into her seat. There were few things she was certain of more than that Geoffrey St. John had two brothers. “T-there were two of them.” Blocking her escape. “Twins.” Looming over her. “Alphas.” Eyeing their meal.

Her body began to tremor, and she squeezed her hands into tight fists. A whiff of scent caught her attention and Amy glanced at Rouge. She blanched at the intensity of the Alpha’s stare. The bat had lowered her feet and was leaning over the table, the skin around her eyes tight and her lips twitched ever so slightly over clenched fangs. Amy felt herself shrinking back under the ferocity, but Rouge didn’t seem to be looking at her as much as through.

“Got it!” Espio declared, ripping Amy’s attention away from Rouge. She coughed, Rouge’s ire clouding the air. Her throat was so dry. “Holy shit.” Espio looked up at Rouge. “Rut-related fratricide eight years ago. No formal charges. The perpetrator and victim were juveniles, so the case was sealed.”

Amy fell through the ice of a frozen lake. “What?” Amy began to shake. Geoffrey had mentioned Tumble, which meant- “Rough is dead?” The words didn’t sound like her voice. They were far away and lost below the fridged surface.

Amy wrapped her arms around herself. Cold. Freezing cold.

One of them was dead. One of them could never touch her again. She’d never hear his Voice again. Never breathe in his scent. But it didn’t change what had happened to her.

Amy felt numb. Why didn’t Amy feel happy? Surely she should feel something? Instead, she felt empty. Cold. She didn’t feel any safer. She didn’t feel any better. Amy had never longed for revenge. She had wanted it never to have happened at all. She pretended as if it never had happened at all.

But it had.

Rough’s death changed nothing.

Amy took a deep breath. Nothing has changed. She was the same as she was a minute ago.

Without her, the conversation had continued.

“Fuck me.” Rouge grimaced, slumping back. “How did we miss that?”

“I don’t know,” Espio shook his head, “but I’ll get the wonks on it.”

“Well, this solves some of the mystery.” Rouge huffed.

“Oh?” Espio raised a brow.

“St. John took a crack at my old man and I countered with one about his brother.” Rouge pushed her chair back and forth, pivoting absently. “And that’s what finally set him off. I guess inadvertently I found a real sore spot.”

“We can work with this,” Espio looked down at his phones, dexterously typing away on both, “But you said he was leaning into the Drago overturn. Why the fuck would he do that when it opens his brother up to criminal charges?”

“He’s either stupid, doesn’t give a shit about his brother, or planning something.” Rouge stopped her rocking. “I’m betting on the latter.”

“You need to tread carefully until we know the play.” Espio turned to Amy. “You,” She flinched, “need to tell us why St. John has it out for you.”

Amy grit her teeth. This was it. She had never wanted to think about, let alone talk about…but now it looked like she didn’t have a choice.

“Espio.” Rouge cautioned. One of his eyes focused on her. “Stop.” She said clearly, her brows rising.

He gave her an incredulous grimace. “We have to know what kind of liability she is, Rouge. You know that.” Amy resented being talked about like she wasn’t here, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth and give Rouge a reason to stop protecting her.

“The living brother is built like a brick shithouse.” Rouge growled. “I can imagine two of them got up to some horrible shit as horny teenagers. Use your god-damned imagination and shut the hell up.”

“That can’t be the whole story.” Espio argued, completely unphased by the implication. “If that was it, St. John would be trying to stay as far away from Amy as possible, not scaring her into silence. Unless-“ Both of Espio’s eyes turned to Amy and his demeanor lifted, “he was part of it.”

Amy choked.

“Drop it.” Rouge’s voice was dangerously low.

“Amy,” Espio addressed her, “did Geoffrey St. John assault-“

Rouge slammed her fist on the table. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

Espio leaned back with a huff. “Are you growing a heart on me, Rouge? I thought you wanted to win.”

“Bite me, asshole.”

“My fucking god, Rouge!” He rubbed a hand over the smooth flesh of his cranium, “You throw this thing over a fucking Omega and I’m gonna lose my shit.”

Rouge leaned forward, “Listen here, you fucking cold-blooded reptile-“

“Why do you want to bury the photos?” Amy asked in a small voice, trying to drag her mind out of the past. She succeeded in driving a knife through the building tension.

“Because it would be stupid not to.” Rouge answered roughly, still glaring daggers at her campaign manager.

“What? But why-“

“One,” Rouge held up a finger, “it won’t stick. Motherfuckers have been beating their wives for millennia and a few decades of feminism sure as fuck isn’t gonna change that. If anything, it’ll earn him votes. A little domestic violence makes St. John look more like a boss, a big man. Not taking lip from his broad and even putting her in her place? Now that’s a real man’s man. It’ll push all the fence-sitting casual misogynist over into his camp.”

Disgusted, Amy exclaimed, “But-“

“Two!” Rouge spoke over Amy and held up another finger. “You want to blow your load? Give away the only thing you got on St. John? Use your head, Amy! He fucking introduced you to Knux’s piece of shit father. Guess who also beats his wife? Glass houses and all that shit.”

Amy swallowed. So many threats. He’d thrown so many threats at her she hadn’t even recognized them all.

“And, lest we forget,” Rouge wagged her free forefinger at Amy, “you’re not exactly squeaky clean yourself, my dear.”

“W-what?” Fear rose like a cobra within her.

“The next time you so much as cross the street without a signal, they’re gonna force you to get a state-sanctioned Claim.” Rouge huffed. “Or have you forgotten, missy, that you are illegally living in sin?”

This was wrong. “Didn’t you used to persecute guys like Geoffrey? He committed a crime!” Amy exclaimed.

“Did he though?” Rouge narrowed her eyes. “Are you aware, Amy, that instance of domestic violence reported in the households of law enforcement officers is at least ten percent higher than that of the general populace? And that’s reported, honey. Now, who would you be reporting this ‘crime’-” Rouge made air quotes,” to, pray tell?”

Amy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Rouge was such a hypocrite! “Aren’t you dating a member of law enforcement?”

“Okay, first, I have no idea what you are talking about, and slander is taken very seriously by the court system. And two, yeah, so what? The day he raises a hand is the day I chop his manhood off with a rusty trowel. I think we both know how much of a mouthy bitch I am, Amy. The odds I catch it on the chin at least once in my life are high. Is it right? No. Is it just? Fuck no. But that’s the shitty reality we live in.”

“You can’t be serious…” Amy wasn’t proud of the whine lacing her voice.

Rouge shrugged. “I knew what I was signing up for. And, I suspect, Mrs. St. John does as well.”

“That’s stupid! There’s no way she wants to get hit!”

“Probably not.” Rouge shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she’s into that. But she sure as fuck wants to be Mrs. Mayor of the largest city on the planet. A chance at that title is probably worth a few black eyes in her book.”

Amy’s stomach clenched. She hated every word out of Rouge’s mouth. “You don’t know that.”

“I wasn’t the one being told to mind their fucking business, Amy. If you recall, Mrs. St. John seemed just as affronted at you as St. Jerk-off was. You blow your cover and, like as not, you fuck up her life, too. And women like her hold petty grudges to their grave.”

“That’s-“ That couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t!

“No wants to be known as the battered spouse. No one wants to be pitied, to be the object of ridicule from people you don’t even know them, people who only know this one dirty thing about you. Do you really think she’s trapped? How do you know St. John himself isn’t getting it just as bad behind closed doors?”

Amy stilled. She hadn’t thought of that. “You think that…”

Rouge smirked. “Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. Schrodinger’s marital violence aside, the point is that you don’t know the full story. And what you don’t know, can and will hurt you maliciously, Amy.

“Three.” Espio spoke up. “No throwing stones in glass houses. We drop this, they drop evidence of Rouge’s infatuation with the color red.”

Rouge didn’t have a response for this, so Espio continued, “Rouge already has a tenuous gripped on the family vote, being all unwed and no kids like she is. Her having wanton relations out of wedlock will be much worse than St. John smacking his wife. Not to mention the ‘ick’ she’ll get from other Alphas. Alpha on Alpha is unpopular even on porn sites.”

“So that’s what you’re into-“ Rouge began a tease.

“There’s no way that’s worse!” Amy interrupted. “One is consensual.”

“It’s because I’m a woman, Amy.”

“That…that’s…People are better than that now.”

“Wrong. There’s a massive swath of bleeding heart capital ‘L’ liberals that’ll scream to the heavens how they want to take equality and make sweet love to it down by the fire, but the moment they’re alone in a voting booth they suddenly realize that my lack of dick disqualifies me from holding the reins of government.”

“Wait,” Espio grimaced, “but don’t you-?”

“Shut up. Don’t play stupid. You know what I mean.”

Amy swallowed. “Releasing the photos is the right thing to do.” She sounded naïve. Young. Petulant.

“Doing the right thing doesn’t get you votes, Amy.” Rouge sighed. “And I need votes to get the power to do the right thing.” She said it softly, like she was explaining the facts of life to a child.

“There’s more to life than votes, Rouge!” Amy’s face burned. How could she say things like that. “And there’s plenty of people who want you to be better than him. You’re supposed to be better!”

“Hmmm,” Rouge hummed and tapped her chin. “Let’s go down the list and see which voting bloc will give a shit about a skunk laying a cat out.”

Rouge started to count on her fingers. “First there are the ‘I got mine so fuck everyone else’ capitalists, then the ‘I’ll get mine and fuck everyone else’ wage-slaves. Next is the ‘Well, let’s just think about this’ conservative cowards, the ‘everyone get along, but not in my back yard’ centrist pussies, and the ‘let’s keep things as they are, but maybe not be pricks about it all the time’ liberal cucks.”

“Raging racists fucks.” Espio added.

Rouge ticked a finger. “Love, peace, and equality delusionists.”

“Burn it to the ground anarchists.” Espio listed.

“Fuck them,” Rouge jabbed her finger at Espio, “they don’t vote.”

“Burn it to the ground religious freaks.” Espio offered.

“Bless them.” Rouge gave an exaggerated sigh. “They’re so loose with their money until they realize that the apocalypse isn’t just around the corner.”

“The ’I just want to work’ immigrants.”

Rouge grimaced. “Fuck them, they can’t vote.”

“And then there’s the second most important voting bloc.” Espio prefaced, looking at Amy.

“The ‘leave me alone, I’m busy’ hardworking, apolitical tax-paying Betas who really just don’t want to think about any of this because they have shit to do. They’ve got to get milk from the corner store quick because the damn school bus is coming and ‘oh, shit’ they forgot to go to the post office again.”

Amy’s frown deepened. “That’s a very cynical view of the world.”

“Yup!” Rouge popped her lips loudly with the admission. “Such are the ways one amuses themselves when the alternative is collapsing inward in despair.”

“You’re…joking with me?” Amy huffed.

“Anyway, we’re getting way off topic.” Rouge sighed, “Speaking of cynicism, how much do you want, Amy?”

“W-what?”

“Money.” Rouge emphasized as if Amy were five.

“For the photos.” Espio clarified.

“Pick a high number.” Rouge stared at her coldly, “Because it’s the last red cent you’re going to get from me.”

Oh. Here it was. “You’re firing me.” This whole meeting had been theater. Amy felt exhausted. Rouge really was just playing with her for fun.

“Oh no, missy.” Rouge chuckled and Amy’s brow pinched. “After all the trouble you’ve caused me, you work for free now. I need to keep you close, too, so clear your schedule. Or you can quit and deal with your skunk problem on your own.”

Amy’s face heated. “I- I don’t want money. I just want to do the right thing.”

Rouge laughed. “Ha! The right thing…” She repeated bitterly. Rouge pushed to her feet. “She wants to do the right thing.” The candidate said almost to herself. Amy felt her ears pressing back. Rouge sauntered over to Amy and sank into the rolling chair next to her. “You know what, let’s turn this into a teaching moment. I’ll grant you the benefit of my many years staring directly into the abyss of societal cruelty and malfunction.”

Amy recognized the start of a Rouge rant. She glanced at Espio, but the chameleon was working intently on his phones, probably having heard this particular rant more than once before.

“You’re lucky, Amy.” Rouge began. “You won’t have to endure the hell that is meticulously constructing and arguing a case before a judge and jury before watching the child murderer walk away a free man on a technicality. You won’t have to steel your heart against throwing working single mothers into fucking prison for unpaid court fines because it’s the law. Of being pressured to only work cases I can win. Of being directed to ignore scum-sucking unscrupulous ‘businessmen’ committing egregious wage theft upon desperate workers in disgusting, health-code violating sweat shops. Of being instructed to persecute said workers for tax evasion just because they can’t afford a proper lawyer and the public defender network is overtaxed.”

“So, tell me, Amy. What is the right thing? Is it to follow the law? I sure as fuck tried that and it didn’t work. Is it to follow your heart? I’ve got a bridge to sell you if you think that organ’s worth more than you could get on the black market.”

Amy grit her teeth, determined to push back. “Its-“

“There is no right thing.” Rouge spoke over her again. “There is only meat that moves and meat that sinks. Everything else is just poetry.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Rouge smiled sadly. “I am so sorry to inform you that reality doesn’t require your permission, Amy.”

Amy flushed, effectively cowed.

“You, me, and everyone you know and everyone you will ever know has been born into a meatgrinder.” Rouge explained. “Long dead rich and powerful motherfuckers built the slaughterhouse decades, fuck, centuries ago and the walls are so high no one knows what the sun looks like anymore. We’re all just scrambling over one another in some neo-Malthusian hell, desperate to not be the poor bastard at the bottom getting eviscerated to make the sausage.”

Rouge held out her bare hand, chartreuse nails glinting in the harsh light, and clenched it into a fist. “We claw each other’s eyes out to get just an inch higher than our neighbor. Every step you take upwards pushes someone else down.”

“But what else can you do, Amy?” Rouge leaned back, shrugging. “You’ve got to live, right? You’ve got to make rent, don’t you? Gas just keeps getting more expensive. A fucking loaf of bread costs as much as what you get in an hour at your shitty, dead-end retail job. How can anyone expect anything more from you? You can barely afford to live. It’s one big fucking joke, one that every poor fuck is the butt of.”

“Do you have friends or family anymore? Bonds have eroded, cheapened. We’ve lost the plot. We’ve all been reduced to polite enemies. Broken down to our base elements by toil and stress. You’ve got to thrash like hell, desperate fingers digging into the soft flesh of whoever you can get your claws into, or you’ll get trampled to the bottom and get smashed into kibble. It’s all everyone knows. We’ve been told this is the way things have to be for so long that the map has become the territory.”

“And, you know what? The universe doesn’t give a shit. You live. You fuck. You die. That’s all the universe asks of you, Amy. That’s all the universe has ever asked of anyone. But in all that pointlessness lies a truth. A real truth. One not tied to shitty lies or naïve hopes.”

“Absolutely everything is about sex.” Rouge waved a flippant hand, “Except, of course, sex. Now, sex?” Rouge paused briefly, “Sex is about power. And power lets you make the rules. Only when you can make the rules can anything truly change.”

“I hate it.” Rouge laid her hands flat on the table top. “I fucking hate it, Amy.” She dug her manicured nails into the scuffed wood, dragging them across the surface slowly. “Everything you hate? I hate it more. I hate it so much I’m willing to do anything to make it less soul-crushingly terrible. Beg on my knees? Suck a million cocks? Crush a few unlucky fuckers to dust? Give it to me. Morning, noon, and night, any day, every day. It fucking burns my soul, but if that’s what I have to do, then, fuck it, drag me to hell.”

“So, you want to do the right thing? Wonderful. Perfect. Lovely. First you have to earn the privilege, Amy. You have to get to the top of the heap however you can. You have to play the game. You have to enact the strategies that work. Else you’re just elbowing some poor fuck in the ribs. Sure, the more you move, the more you bleed, Amy. But if you don’t move, you get trampled and pushed down to the bottom to become fertilizer.”

“So,” Rouge waved at Amy, “are you meat that moves or meat that sinks?”

Rouge leaned in before Amy could answer, seemingly intent on continuing. “And-” The Alpha froze and her nose twitched. A knife of ice lanced down Amy’s spine. There was no way she could still be in heat! Rouge’s hand snapped forward, pinching the shoulder of Amy’s sweater and pulling it away from her neck. Amy exclaimed and jerked away, but Rouge had seen the bite mark hidden by soft polyester fibers.

Rouge’s cold, snide condescension morphed into a snarl of rage and she shot up from the chair. “God damn him!” She roared, her displeasure apparent in a waft of sharp scent slamming into Amy. Her body seized and her ears pressed against her skull in utter submission to the upset Alpha.

“Rouge?” Espio asked, startled by the sudden change in the script.

Rouge stormed back to the head of the table and snatched up her phone. She tapped at it a few times and then tossed it roughly onto the table. It hit and spun in place as it began to ring on speakerphone.

The call connected. “What do you want, Rouge? I’m busy.” Amy’s soul nearly left her body as she heard Shadow’s voice. Rouge knew! She must have smelled him on her. An embarrassed inferno erupted across her face.

Rouge loomed over the phone, her weight supported by her hand planted against the table’s surface. “Did you fuck Amy last night?” Rouge’s question dripped with disdain.

Shadow did not answer immediately, and Amy found herself wishing he’d deny it. But then he’d be denying her and she wasn’t sure if she could handle the rejection even in these circumstances. “My personal life is none-“

“That’s all I needed.” Rouge reached forward and hit the end button as Shadow tried to talk over her. The screen lit up with an incoming call almost immediately. Rouge put her phone on silent and placed it face down on the table.

“Holy hell.” Espio rose and started pacing again. “Terrific. Just fucking terrific.”

“Pass me your phone, Amy.” Rouge reached out to her hand.

“No.” The refusal made Amy’s throat burn. She braced herself. She had never heard Rouge’s Voice before…

Rouge glared at her, her displeasure scenting the air. But then her eyes softened and she took a deep breath. “Amy, please give me your phone. I promise this is important.”

Timidly, Amy retrieved it and then startled when it began to ring, ‘Zephyr’ displayed on the caller ID. “Amy, please.” Rouge repeated, her hand still extended.

Amy looked between her ringing phone and Rouge. She was at a total loss as to what to do. She felt she was suddenly thrust into the center of a game that had begun a long time ago. Swallowing, Amy slid her phone across the table to Rouge.

“Zephyr, huh?” Rouge raised an eyebrow. “Your boy blue a snooper?” She hit the green icon before Amy could formulate a response beyond blushing.

“Amy!” Shadow’s voice erupted immediately, rough and desperate.

“Asshole!” Rouge addressed him calmly.

“Rouge? I swear to god I’ll-“ His voice was silenced as Rouge killed the call.

She looked up, her expression evening out. “It’s, what, forty-five minutes from City Center to here?” Rouge asked Espio casually.

He paused his pacing. “There abouts without traffic. He might hit the start of rush once he gets on the connector.”

Amy’s phone began to ring again. Rouge hit call accept and slid it back across the table to Amy and gestured to her to speak.

Before Amy could, the phone blared. “Rouge, you fucking touch Amy and I’m going to strangle you to death, you wretched bitch!” Shadow shouted so loudly the sound clipped off at the edges.

Amy’s ears pressed against her skull. Alpha was angry. Alpha was so angry She had to make him happy. Whatever she had to do, she needed to do that. She’d walked right into the den of another Alpha like the worthless whore she was. Of course, her Alpha was angry with her. “Sh-Shadow?” Amy asked timidly.

There was silence for a beat. “Amy.” Shadow breathed, the sheer relief in his voice spreading warmth through her chest, releasing her from the grip of her baseless fear. “Oh, god, Amy. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. Are you okay? Where are you?”

Amy shivered under the deluge of questions she wasn’t sure how to answer, still reeling slightly from her reaction to his outburst. “I-“ She hated how weak she sounded, how thin her voice was as she pushed it out through a constricted throat. “I’m okay.”

“Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

Rouge scrutinized Amy’s face.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no bother. Wherever you are, I can-”

“Please don’t.”

There was a pause. Amy could almost hear Shadow struggling. She was struggling as well. A part of her wanted him to come save her from all the confusion and pain. Part of her never wanted to be apart from him and she hoped that a part of him wanted the same thing.

But that felt like surrender. Surrendering her autonomy. Surrendering her agency. Yes, Shadow could save her. Could snap her up and whisk her away from her problems…but that wasn’t what she wanted. Amy wanted to solve her problems. She just had to figure out how to do that.

“Very well.” Shadow answer finally. Her throat tightened at his muted tone.

“I’ll call you later.” Amy declared before she consciously made the decision.

“I- I would like that.”

“I’m sorry. I need to go.” Amy grabbed her phone and ended the call before she discovered whatever else her mouth was going to say.

“That was really mean, Rouge.” Amy clutched her phone tightly, a burning anger flaring inside her. “Isn’t he your friend? How can you treat him like that?”

“Shadow is a really good ice skater.” Rouge said, ignoring Amy’s questions and recriminations. “Downright elegant if you ask me.”

“Huh?” Amy short circuited. What the hell?

“He takes a long time in the shower.” Her tone stilled Amy. “He says he finds it relaxing, but it’s just another avenue to pursue the perfection his mother expected of him as a child.” Amy immediately thought of all the bottles hidden under her sink.

“What?”

“His favorite thing to eat is raw coffee beans. I have no idea why. Just roll with it. And he loves the smell of lavender and roses, but avoid doing anything with roses until he takes you to his garden.” Roses? Amy wondered. She’d heard something about Shadow and roses before.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Don’t ask about his parents and avoid meeting them as long as you can. The only member of his family close to safe to meet is his brother. And, pick a night soon, cozy up with a blanket and a bottle of wine, and Gaggle his father Black Kintobor and Mizuri. I don’t know how fast you two are moving, but do it before anything permanent occurs.”

Amy frowned. What was happening right now?

“He’s smart as hell, but he’s never been expected to do common things for himself. I’ve seen him have difficulty working a gas pump. So, try not to laugh too much or he’ll get really self-conscious and shitty about it.” Shadow had dirtied a lot of dishes trying to make instant pancakes.

“And…” Rouge’s face hardened into something sharp, but also forlorn, “If he hits you, you need to tell me immediately. Even if it’s an accident.”

“Shadow wouldn’t-!” Amy exclaimed. Rouge considered her with a strange expression, one Amy hadn’t seen before. A tired hopefulness. “Shadow wouldn’t do that.”

“As self-possessed as he seems, Shadow isn’t always in full control of himself.” Rouge sighed. “I don’t care how much he apologizes or how much he didn’t mean to. Promise me, Amy, that you’ll call me right away.”

Amy’s stomach churned and she remembered her crushed pastry. Shadow had said it himself. He struggled with darkness. Still, it felt disloyal to agree to Rouge’s request, like she didn’t trust him. However, Rouge may be mean and cruel and cynical, but she was honest. Brutally, viciously honest…but honest nonetheless.

“I promise.” Amy said.

Rouge smiled softly. “He’s a good man, Amy. He’s an asshole and an impulsive jerk and I hate his guts on occasion. But he has a good heart and he works hard. He won’t ask you for much and he’ll cherish whatever you give. And he would rip the goddamned moon out of the sky if you ask.”

Amy’s cheeks burned, but not from anger. Rouge was giving Amy her blessing.

“And,” Rouge continued, her face hardening. “You may think I’m a raging cunt now, but if you break his heart, you will learn exactly which circle of hell I crawled out of. I like you, Amy. Don’t make me dislike you.”

Amy met Rouge’s gaze head on. “I…don’t understand you, Rouge.”

Rouge leaned back. “That sounds like a you problem, Amy.“

“Don’t even try to make sense of their relationship.” Espio said bitterly. “They have some sexless BDSM shit going on.”

“And what would you call what you and I have?” Rouge’s brow quirked.

“Fuck you.” Espio bit back.

“You wish.” Rouge retorted.

Espio grimaced in disgust, but then he blushed and looked down. An awkward silence filled the space as Amy looked between the two, still so overwhelmed with the whole situation to form an opinion. Did Espio-?

“I’m sorry.” Rouge said quietly. “That was too much.”

“It’s fine.” Espio mumbled.

Rouge’s gaze shifted to Amy. “Don’t be like me, Amy. Treat him well. He deserves it and he’ll work hard to earn it.”

Amy wasn’t sure what to say, so she said, “Thank you.”

“Also,” Rouge’s tone returning to her normal antagonistic lilt, “I’d say congratulations if I didn’t know any better.” Rouge balanced her phone on one of its corners and spun it like a top, a single finger pressing down on the top corner to maintain its balance. “But you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, did you?”

Amy shook her head. “No, Rouge, I promise I didn’t. I swear.”

“God, that’s frustrating. I fucking wish you were a sneaky little gold-digging snake.” Rouge twirled her phone again. “I could understand that. I could respect that. All I’d have to do is chop your pretty head off with a trowel. But you,” Her phone clattered to the table as she jabbed a finger at Amy, “You’re just fucking lucky.”

Amy laughed. “Lucky? What does unlucky look like?”

“You’re lucky and I can’t fucking stand it.”

“I-“

“What’s the first rule of politics, Amy?” Rouge asked.

Amy wasn’t sure where this was going. “Uh, smile?”

“Don’t fuck with the money.” Espio answered.

Rouge pointed a finger at the chameleon but kept eye contact with Amy. “Don’t fuck with the money.” Amy frowned. “And you, honey. You are fucking the money.” Amy flushed. “Congratulations, you’ve discovered the most important voting bloc. The only one that matters, too.” Rouge raised her hand, rubbing the pad of her pointer and middle finger against her thumb. “Checkbooks.”

The room descended into silence as Amy processed Rouge’s words. Money. It was always about money. Bitterly, Amy wondered where money sat in Rouge’s rant about sex and power. She could feel herself start to descend into a dark spiral. Shadow had the money, Amy had the sex. Was everything they had, everything they could have, just a transaction? If so, what was this warm feeling she had every time she thought about him. Was it-

Suddenly, a peach-colored wolf pushed the door open. “Merigold?” Rouge frowned. “I’m afraid I’m busy right now.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but St. John is holding a press conference right now.”

Rouge shook her head. “Fucking great.”