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“It’s too high risk?—”
“I’m the one at the parties. I’m the one showing my face to these monsters.”
“You get me Carrion’s I.D., I’ll do it. We won’t need the servers anymore.”
“You think I’m not trying?” I asked. Carrion was the pseudonym for the highest-ranking member of the ring—overseeing almost everything—but he never showed his face.
“You know I can’t do it,” Doyle said, though he looked pitying.
I grit my teeth but we were silent for a moment as the waitress set down two coffees for us. When she was gone, Doyle began emptying packets of sugar into his. “Also, keep an eye on your security,” he said. “There was something odd going on a few nights ago.”
“Something odd?”
“Security teams had issues connecting with two of the safehouses for a few hours. Likely nothing, but thought I’d give you a heads up.”
The safehouses?
They hosted the ones I’d freed who were willing to speak to the authorities.
“Which ones?” I asked. “And why are you only telling me now?”
“I only found out this morning, and besides, nothing happened. The only reason I’m mentioning it is because both had someone of yours living inside.”
I frowned. “Everyone’s safe?”
“We’re already relocating. It’s likely nothing, just stay alert and check your own systems.”
“Designations?” I asked.
“Of the ones that were yours? Both Omegas. Female.”
I tapped on my coffee cup, something about that not sitting right with me.
“What is this Maverick thing, Knox?” Doyle prodded, eyeing my curiously. “Is she a scent match? I heard how much you paid for her.”
Ah fuck. “She’s not my scent match.”
“But you care about her?” he asked.
“Would I be here if I didn’t?”
He sighed, downing the last of his coffee and reaching for mine since I hadn’t touched it. “I’ll… I’ll see what I can do, but don’t hold your breath,” he grumbled, his reluctance clear. “Maybe we can swap some data in, but I’m not making promises. Nothing that they’ll notice. She better mean the world to you, because if I do it, it might risk everything you’ve done so far.”
When I got back into my car, I turned on the security app and checked it. Thistle was a lump in my bed, curled up and nestled deep beneath the covers. The memory of her lingered, but I forced myself back to the present, focusing on Doyle. I looked at the bottom of the screen to see a little green light beside the words “2 devices online.”
Not uncommon.
The misfits left it on sometimes to monitor, but it was late, so I shot off a text to Callum anyway.
THIRTY-FIVE
THISTLE
Usually, when I slept in Knox’s arms, it was peaceful. But, as if his comfort had abandoned me, so did the sweet dreams.
Three months before—The night of the bite.
I tried really hard not to push Ace, but I knew something was wrong tonight.
