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Normally this is when I’d push and needle him, but I know him well enough to know that’s only going to make him more defensive. I can’t force him to see the same thing I’ve come to understand. He has to see and accept the truth on his own.

He’s accepted his level of assholery. He’s accepted how bad he’s fucked up when it comes to Caelan. He’s even accepted the way he betrayed a helpless Omega.

But there’s still something holding him back. I can sense the way it lingers, festering like a wound. Whether it's self-preservation or plain old fear, he hasn’t quite cracked all the way. Not yet.

He still sees her as “the Omega,” first and foremost. Which means he’s still keeping her sequestered. Building a wall between them so she won’t get the chance to hurt him.

I need him to stop seeing her as The Omega, and start seeing her as just… Idril.

Riven catches my eye and flicks his pointedly toward the second level with a mischievous look.

I grin, because clearly, Riven’s on board with my plan. No fucking clue how he figured out what I’m doing, but I’m just gonna chalk it up as weird ‘Riven woo-woo’ shit and call it a win.

I don’t bother suggesting we go, just in case Dax tries to shut it down. Instead, I cross the foyer and bound up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dax snaps, following right behind me just like I knew he would. Riven ascends behind him, at a more leisurely pace. All the while, wearing a huge, shit-eating grin.

At the landing, Riven turns left, and I follow. Dax catches up to us easily, boots thudding against the hard marble and echoing off the empty walls.

I finally realize why the place feels so off. The walls are completely bare. Not because someone ransacked the place; there’s just nothing here.

No photos of friends or family. No furniture to break up the monotony of the endless corridor. No rugs. No fancy vases or fixtures. No overpriced paintings.

Nothing.

Dax grabs my forearm and spins me around to face him.

“I’m assuming this willow tree wasn’t planted up here, so what the hell are we doing?”

I answer with one of my most charming smiles and shrug, deciding to fall back on the charismatic idiot bit.

“Figured while we’re here, we may as well see if there’s anything we can find that might help us. Not like Caelan really got a chance to search for the other half of that list.”

His eyes narrow like he doesn’t believe me, which is smart. I wouldn’t believe me, either. Unfortunately for him, he has no way to prove I’m full of shit.

Halfway down the hall, I come to a stop in front of an open door leading to an empty bedroom. Frowning, I walk into the room and head straight for the closet against the furthest wall.

The closet that’s locked with a heavy-duty padlock. One you’d find on shipping containers down by the docks. Industrial.

Like the door to the basement where Varenthrall was keeping Idril’s mother.

“Well, what do we have here?” Riven muses. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and slides out a blade.

Then he jams it into the lock.

It’s not the most sophisticated lock picking I’ve seen, but it gets the job done. The extensive padlock probably would have deterred a normal human, but not an Alpha vampire with supernatural strength and the need to punch someone.

Or in this case, something.

Riven breaks it open in no time and drops it, letting it clatter to the floor. I brace myself, twist the knob, and open the door.

Nothing.

Unless you count dust and the smell of musty mothballs and old paper.

Dax pulls out his phone and clicks on the flashlight, aiming it into the back of the closet. There, shoved against the wall, are two boxes sealed with packing tape.

“Damn. Good instincts,” Dax grins, pulling the boxes out of the closet and shoving them into the middle of the room. Once more, Riven pulls out his knife and slices through the tape.