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Rather than leaning into Caelan or disappearing into her blanket, she sits straighter. Her eyes flit over the words on the page, bright and focused.
Gods, she looks just like Daxen does when he’s close to figuring something out. It’s remarkable, watching her demeanor change right before my eyes. Her eyes narrow and she leans in. A single, delicate finger glides over the notes. She reads through them twice and then sits back, lifts her chin, and meets Daxen’s gaze with her own for the first time since she walked in the room.
“I don’t think that’s all this is,” she declares, pointing at the notes. “If Cage wrote this all down to pass on to someone in an attempt to infiltrate HQ, it’s missing a lot of information. You’re all listed—the seven of you in charge. But there are far more people who live in this castle.” She glances at Caelan, her Omega seeking validation from her Alpha in a moment so instinctual I almost feel like I should look away.
Fates, I want that. I want her to look at me like that.
Caelan inclines his head, mouth ticking up into a satisfied smirk.
Bolstered, she continues her explanation. As she speaks, her confidence grows until she’s addressing the room like she’s the one in charge.
“A lot of the staff have apartments off the trainee compound, but there are quite a few who live in the older wings of HQ. Families who have, from what I’ve gathered, served the Bloodbound generationally. As well as a select few who work odd shifts.”
“That’s right,” I murmur, giving in to the instinct to back her up. “Our steward and his family have an entire wing to themselves. Our head of security as well—though he’s technically a Bastard—he has his own rooms but also retains staff rooms off-site. Says he likes being with his men sometimes, but needs his own space as well.”
“What about full Bastards?” Soren asks.
“Aye, there’s no way ye run this entire place with just the seven of you and dozens of trainees,” Kane adds, and I take a second to appreciate the irony of sitting here with wolven and spilling our secrets without a second thought. All because the Alpha Heir and my Packmate share an Omega.
“Of course not,” Dax replies indignantly. “There are plenty of full Bastards, but they live off-site in the compound. The only ones who live in HQ full time are us and some staff.”
“Alright, so he’s missing a lot of people here who would be here at any point if they were trying to sneak in,” Idril summarizes. “And adding to that, there’s no other vital information written down. No guard rotations, no mentions of entry or exit points. No security codes, or camera placement or outside patrols and routines.”
She shrugs, tucking her hair behind her ear, voice full of certainty. “I mean… if someone wanted to break in—seriously break in—those aren’t things they’d simply ignore. That’s pertinent information.”
Caelan’s grin has practically taken over his entire face. I can damn near feel the pride rolling off of him in waves as he leans over and presses his lips to her temple.
“Smart girl,” he murmurs.
I expected that kind of reaction from Idril’s Mates, but what really grabbed my attention and won’t let go is the way Daxen’s looking at her, something calculated swimming in his eyes. Everything she said is something Daxen would have put together in the next few minutes, most likely, but for Idril—someone with no experience doing what we do—to notice it right away?
Yeah… that’s a little unexpected.
“So you don’t think they’re trying to break in?” I ask, trying to dig deeper and figure out what she thinks is going on. Idril shakes her head, then shrugs.
“I think that if someone were trying to simply break in, their focus is too targeted. Their goal is to get to specific targets. The seven of you.”
“Damn.” I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Just to be fair,” Idril adds, “Cage is quite possibly one of the most ignorant beings to ever walk the Earth, so there’s a huge chance I’m totally off base here. He could just be really, really bad at spying.”
Gods, she’s not wrong. It could easily be either of those things. Or both. Or, Fates… neither.
“Obviously the next step is to check out the phone,” Branwen suggests from across the sectional. I do a double take when I realize she’s sitting cross-legged, her mass of hair pulled over one shoulder, fingers dancing as she plaits it into a seriously confusing-looking braid.
Soren hands the phone to Caelan, who flips it open and holds down the power button, waiting for the equipment to light up.
Dax lunges across the five feet between them and snatches the phone from Caelan’s hand. Caelan’s mouth falls open in shock as Dax pops the back off and pulls the battery out in a single, swift movement.
Caelan curses, reaching for the phone. “What the fuck, Dax!”
Dax holds the phone behind him, refusing to hand it back.
“Do you want whoever this belongs to to know we discovered it?” he snaps before aiming his glare at Soren. “From now on, anything tech related goes through me first. Don’t hand over anything before I’ve had the chance to look it over and take the appropriate precautions. Not your new BFF, not Caelan, and definitely, positively, under no circumstances, Vaelenor.”
“Excuse the fuck out of you,” I snap back. “Contrary to current mishaps, I’m not actually an idiot, asshole.”
Dax ignores me, too focused on sliding out the SIM, which he tosses into the fire. He bends down, slides a thin blade from the side of his boot, and begins tinkering with the internal components until, a few moments later, he’s holding a sliced copper wire that does who the fuck knows what in the phone.
