Page 110 of Crimson Moon Falling

My stomach twisted when I remembered asking Emmett about her, but I’d never followed up. “Probably since Zaria was murdered. I have some water in the SUV.” I grabbed my metal water bottle, screwed off the lid, and used it as a bowl. Edwina slurped it up, and I filled it twice more before she had her fill.

I couldn’t keep a cat in a house full of wolf shifters and two hellhounds. My job also kept me traveling, and she’d need veterinary care and a stable home.

I didn’t care. We’d figure it out, and Athena seemed alright with her. Mangus just watched, his head tilted and massive jaw slack, smoky drool dripping from his mouth.

“We’re taking her,” I informed Ash.

Ash was already gathering Edwina to his chest. She went limp in his arms, her good eye closing. Something inside me melted at the sight of this kind, serious shifter, with his warrior’s build, gently holding a half-starved cat. The size difference should have been absurd, but it wasn’t. Ash was part of my family now. Somewhere along the way, I’d been adopted into Conall’s Pack. Even Owen, bless his heart.

I ran back inside and searched Zaria’s cupboards, finding several small cans of premium cat food. I stuffed my pockets and found a saucer. “Don’t worry,” I whispered to the house. “We’ve got Edwina, and I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.” A soft sigh drifted through the air, and then the cottage went silent.

After feeding the cat and locking back up, Gunnar drove us away. The mist seemed to follow us, clinging to the windshield for a moment. In the rearview mirror, I watched Zaria’s cabin disappear into the gray.

When we returned to the bungalow, Ash set Edwina on the couch. The cat curled into a tight ball, her good eye watching us with wary intelligence. I dug through the dish towels, found an old one, and soaked it with warm water.

“Her eye needs antibiotics.” Ash knelt beside her and held his hand out for the cloth, his healing energy swirling around him. Edwina let out a soft purr as he wiped her down.

“I’ll call Beau and see if there’s any ointment or something at the infirmary. I also need to make a few phone calls.”

Ash stayed with the cat, and I walked to my bedroom and dialed Drew’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey. Are you okay? I heard what happened.”

“I got away, and I’m still alive. Drew, I need a favor.”

He paused. “Okay. What do you need?”

“As much footage as you can find showing I was taken and detained at the Las Vegas Apex Mentis facility. Security cameras, traffic surveillance, parking garage footage, anything that shows I was there.”

“Why?” Drew asked cautiously.

“Because I’m not going to let them deny and evade this time.” I tried to keep it vague, but Drew was a Strategist.

“Riley, what’re you planning?”

The silence stretched, and I sighed. “If you won’t help me, I’ll call Madison. She–”

“Just tell me what you need it for.”

“I’m calling in a debt. When I Spooled to help the Pack find your missing children, I exposed myself. I need that footage. And like I said, if you won’t help me, there’s always Madison.”

“Fine, I’ll help you on two conditions. You don’t have to call Madison.” Shifters were a competitive bunch. “I won’t keep anything from Conall, and this won’t cause you to get hurt or kidnapped again.”

I needed to thread this needle carefully. “You can tell Conall whatever you want, and this will help keep us all safer. I need it in the next twenty-four hours. Can you get it?”

He fell silent for a moment, then sighed and began typing. “The facility is classified, and most of that footage is encrypted, compartmentalized, and likely air-gapped. Accessing it means hacking the most dangerous branch of the federal armed forces. It’s a felony and carries a prison sentence.”

“So you can get it,” I guessed.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“Thank you. I need anything that shows Wilson, especially the Apex facility, and Langston. There’s probably footage from the pediatrician’s office as well. Timestamps matter.”

“I’ll need at least twelve hours.” A pause. “Riley, whatever you’re planning—”

“Trust me.”

Another sigh. “Fine. Twelve hours. Maybe more. I’ll text you when I have something.”