"And adds forty-five seconds to response time," she counters immediately.
Our eyes lock. A battle of wills. Of experience.
Grudging respect rises in my chest. She knows her craft. Has survived this long for good reason.
I straighten, conceding the point with a short nod. "Your team, your call." The words taste bitter, but they're necessary. This is her world, her mission.
For now.
My wolf settles, but remains alert. Watching. Planning. If anything goes wrong, her plan becomes irrelevant. I'll tear through anyone who threatens her, mission be damned.
She looks up at us, her expression turning solemn. "Now, how do you plan to extract the magickal prisoners while we're busy with the human side of the operation?"
"This is where the glamour comes in." Cormac leans forward, placing his finger on the blueprint. "Based on what Tharin told us, the magickal prisoners are being held here, in a sub-level beneath the main floor. He said there's an access point at the rear of the building. It’s not on the plans, but he said that’s how he got out."
"A concealed entrance," Astrid murmurs, eyes narrowing. "What if it’s not there?"
"It's protected by both physical locks and magickal wards," Cormac explains. "But we've prepared countermeasures. It will work."
"And my team won't see any of this happening?" Astrid asks.
"That's the idea," he confirms. "Your team breaches from the front, creating a distraction that draws attention away from the rear exit. While they're focused on securing the human traffickers and victims, we slip in through the back, free the magickal prisoners, and extract them under the glamour."
Astrid's brow furrows. "And after? When my team searches the entire facility and finds empty cells where magickal prisoners should be?"
"That's where the difficult part comes in," Cormac says quietly.
I watch Astrid's face carefully, tracking every micro-expression as understanding dawns. The slight widening of her eyes. The tightening at the corners of her mouth. The barely perceptible increase in her heartbeat.
She's realizing the true cost of helping us. Of helping me.
"You want me to lie," she says finally. "To tell Hayes the magickal prisoners escaped during the chaos of the raid."
"Yes," I say simply.
She stands abruptly, pacing across her small living room. "One slip-up and it's not just my career on the line—it's my life."
Her words carve through me, sharp as claws against flesh. If anything happens to her… The thought remains unfinished. Unthinkable. I will not let it come to that.
"We know," Cormac acknowledges. "That's why we're giving you this." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small, sleek device that resembles a standard communications earpiece, but with faint symbols etched into its surface. "This is a direct link to the team at the ranch. It operates on frequencies GUIDE can't detect or intercept."
Astrid takes it, turning it over in her fingers. "So I'll be on two channels during the raid. My official GUIDE comm with my team, and this one with you."
"It will allow us to coordinate," I explain. "And to warn you if there's any danger." As if a piece of magickal tech could replace having me at her side. But I don’t have a choice. I can’t be with her.
She sets the device on the table, her expression troubled. "This is bigger than just lying to Hayes. This is actively undermining a GUIDE operation."
I stand, deliberately moving to her side. To hell with restraint. I position myself close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body but not touching. Not yet. "Astrid, those prisoners aren't criminals. They're victims. People who were torn from their homes, their worlds, just like Tharin. GUIDE would execute them simply for existing."
"I know," she says softly, the conflict evident in her voice. "I know what GUIDE does. I also know what they'd do to me..."
She doesn't finish the thought. She doesn't need to.
They would kill her. My Astrid. For helping me. I know the truth. And I hate that I’m putting her into this position. "I’ll protect you,” I promise her. “No matter what, Astrid, but you're straddling two worlds."
Her eyes meet mine, fierce with determination despite the doubt clouding them. "And what happens when those worlds can't coexist anymore? When I have to choose?"
The question hangs between us. My wolf stirs restlessly, wanting to claim, to protect, to eliminate any threat to what is ours. But the man in me understands the complexity of her position, the impossible choice she's being forced to make.
