Oh no. My information, had been handed over to the wrong kind of person. Even the guards holding the werewolf women back had more right to see my information than he did. "He's not a real judge?"
"I am a judge for ruling over den arrangements," he said, with a nice little smirk. "It's a real judge, but probably not what you were looking for."
Yeah, and that judge knew it too. He had us.
I was already dooming Destiny and I wanted to help, but once Grayson actually got official papers, there wasn't much going back. We couldn't just grab the papers and tear them to pieces, we had to be peaceful. We needed them to trust us if we were going to be teammates.
Then with Mattie getting herself involved, I had to get in there too. I know that Mattie is more familiar with the ways the public part of Wolf Islands works than I do, but I couldn't just trust that she would be fine in some home of men.
It might be even better, there would be less security on us, and we could talk about strategies better inside of . . . wherever we were being sent to. Gee, this really did feel rushed. Why did Mattie have to move so fast on this? And oh no. I? "I need that information back."
The judge just smiled and called for a recess to talk to me.
We were in I suppose the chambers of the judge. No wonder everyone got it wrong, look at this place. It felt like a court, even with chambers. I knew dens were a huge deal, but so huge as to need its own court? "I need my information back."
"You are a werewolf," the judge said out loud. "A shapeshifting real werewolf. You really exist. This is insane. You are from more than just a little private sector of Wolf Islands." He just wafted the paper. "Let me make this perfectly clear. If I give this to the wrong person, you're dead. This should have only been seen by a real official of the actual law system courts, right?"
"Yes." He had me.
"Unfortunately for you, this is the love system courts. It works differently here," he told him. "I have a feeling the way all of you acted, you are all probably not from around here, are you?"
"No, Sir." He wanted something.
"Do you know what a court of love actually is?" The judge asked me. "It is a system to make sure that females are not wasted. There aren't very many left, and many times good men who don't own a fortune, they still want to be a good husband and father a child. It's a natural want of nature. You are now competing against 200 others."
200? "What? You can't put 200 people in one place."
"No, no. You are competing with about 200 dens. Only about fifty or so actually live in a den. You really knew nothing about this place, did you?" the judge asked.
"Sir?" This was getting annoying, talking business with this man, but still not having a name. "May I have your name, Sir?"
"No," he refused. "Judges of love don't give out personal identifiable information." Then, a very casual and absolutely nonprofessional smirk while pulling off his presiding robe said it all. "If anything, call me Judge Love. Don't worry, I won't share your secret, but for a price. I want this den to at least reach Top Ten Den Hour."
Top Ten Den Hour? "What is that?" I asked.
"Out of the ongoing 200 dens, the top ten dens get the most screen time, get personal interviews, get scheduled getaways outside of the dens with everyone, and above all? Get a lot more money. Being Judge Love only earns commissions when a den runs well and fast tracks the right couples. What I want is that broadcast money too. I earn a pittance from what people will watch until it ends up at least Top Fifty on Romances of Wolf Islands."
Broadcast? Did he say broadcast? "Look, me and my crew, we have very sensitive information, we cannot be on camera all the time."
"Cameras only become an issue when you get higher in ratings. Nobody wants to watch fifty randos eat and sleep every waking minute. Even the editing would be crap. No one cares until you reach at least Top Fifty on Romances of Wolf Islands. Even then, only the most interesting will be followed."
Definitely not a real judge at all. Mattie just landed us on some kind of reality tv den situation? "Why isn't this like a normal den?"
"It is a normal den. All dens go through this. A word of warning, usually the reputation of the woman involved in the den doesn't turn out well if she screws up though. Guys are always trying to be the winner, they lie, they make up stories, anything to make them look good to get the girl, get the drift?"
Oh, Mattie.
"Usually I have to pay some unofficial bodyguards to join, to make extra sure things are running safe. We don't want any female hurt in a den. Legally, it throws everyone off air, and then the lady chooses one guy at random with usually the one who hit her or something getting killed in the court of love and law."
Cameras. Bodyguards. TV. "There's gotta be privacy. Sure, cameras are everywhere, but there has to be a place without cameras. You said you employ bodyguards."
"Yes, usually. They can be a choice for the female too. Many times they actually just get chosen, so it's also a real good way to get a female. It's not easy to get that position, but it sounds like this year I don't have to employ any."
Of course not, I would be watching my sister like a hawk. "You know what I am. We need time away from the camera."
"Leave the den," he insisted. "Like I said, it's fine until you start getting up higher in the countdown. Then you'll probably get recognized on the street. When it gets closer to you not having privacy? Um? Well, obviously the love rooms don't have cameras. If they did, there would be so many lawsuits. Guards are posted outside to make sure nothing goes wrong in there. Your also patted down before you go in to make sure you can't try anything. If the female claims she was given something outside the room, it'll be looked at and-"
"Fine." Damn. How were they going to talk?
"Also, you won't have the best sound everywhere. Not until you get higher in the ratings." Judge Love sighed. "Yeah, I got more static in my system then half the dens."
Perfect, for now. Devin watched as Judge Love gave him one of his pieces of paper back.
"You've got four ladies in a den. That is going to be great, no one ever does that kind of content," he chuckled. "There aren't enough out there to do that sort of thing, and most females find their mate on their own. Already, we have something that will make viewers tune in."
Four ladies. "Mattie and-"
"Oh no, no. It's not like that, we don't interfere with your identity either," Judge Love said. "Everyone gets a simple name in the den. The female picks it, and then it's written on an ID for you to wear until she names you something else. Sometimes it's real easy like 'Mike' or sometimes they use it as a way to remember how they know you. I've seen 'Nice Guy in Kitchen', 'Helped Me Out Once', and even the opposite. I've seen some named 'Jerk Face' or 'Never With This Guy'."
He came closer and laughed right next to me, like he was a close friend. "The best one I've seen? Started with 'Michael', then 'Guy is Okay', and after their date? He had to start writing his name as 'The worst human who-hang on." He turned around and grabbed a clipboard. "Yeah, that's it. The Worst Human Thing Ever To Come Out From the Ground and Will Never Be Chosen By Me Unless I Am On My Death Bed." He laughed. "Smallest letters, biggest tag, everyone had to call him that on the show, it was memorable. Put us in . . . Top 150 Romances of Wolf Island that year. That whole time I didn't have to have another part-time job."
Not official. Not professional. This guy was really just another guy. "Can you just please give my papers all back?"
He scooted away with his chair. "I'll give you a piece of paper for each task you complete for me."
Ugh. "This isn't professional at all."
"Look, you have nine more pieces of paper. I'm gonna give you like 10 different options." He took some time to start writing on paper. "Oh, and you are Destinyoftheages bodyguard for the duration of the den time. That is what the paper I just handed back is for."
He knows I am a werewolf, why is he even doing this? There's only one reason. "I am on a camera now, aren't I?"