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“Years.”
Kahn leaned back. “She told you this?”
“She told me enough.”
“And the rest?”
“She’s not ready. I’m not going to force it.”
Kahn looked at Viktor. Viktor looked at the map.
“We need to walk the eastern boundary today,” Viktor said. “Full sweep, every anchor point between stations four and nine. If he found a gap, I need to know where.”
“Agreed.” Kahn turned to Chris. “Can you identify him?”
“Narrow build. Grey-blue eyes. Tobacco scent. Moved fast, read the room before he bolted. He’s trained.”
Viktor pressed his thumb into the back of his neck. “Marcus used scent-masking compounds during the kidnapping. If that technology is circulating among exile networks, it could explain how he slipped the wards. They’re calibrated to detect unfamiliar scent signatures. Strip the scent, strip the trigger.”
“Can you recalibrate?”
“The wards are Caitlynn’s domain now. I’d need to consult her on the magical architecture. Physical patrols can be adjusted immediately. Double coverage on the eastern section, shorter rotation intervals.”
Kahn nodded. “Revised schedule by noon.” He turned back to Chris. “The ritual drew your names.”
“Yes.”
“And you were at her cottage because the bond pulled you there?”
“I went to tell her the pairing was a mistake. I found her with a man’s hand around her throat.”
Kahn’s eyes darkened, the amber flaring where his wolf pressed close. “She’s pack. Whatever her history, if someone is targeting her on our territory, we respond.”
“We respond,” Viktor confirmed.
They spent twenty minutes over the map. Viktor sketched revised patrol routes, flagged entry points where the terrain offered cover between ward anchors. By the time Chris stood, the eastern perimeter had been restructured.
He left the study and almost walked into his sister.
Caitlynn stood three feet from the door, arms folded, her auburn hair pulled back, Elianna’s teething ring dangling from one hand.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said.
“I was busy.”
“You were at Sloane Mercer’s cottage all night.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know you, Chris. You are my brother, and… I can feel the bond work. Especially at the start. I’m aware.”
She tilted her head. Studied him.
“Walk with me,” she said.
They walked through the corridor, out the side entrance, into the garden. Morning light reached the stone benches. Caitlynn sat, tucked one leg under herself. Chris stayed standing, his hands in his pockets.
“So… Sloane Mercer,” she said.
