Her brow furrows. “That’s impossible. You’re not Lycan.”
“I know what I heard.” I keep my voice low, conscious of Holden waiting beyond our cover. “It was fragmented, like catching pieces of a radio signal. But it was there.”
Rhiannon’s eyes search my face. She’s turning the idea over, testing it against everything she knows about pack-bonds and human limitations.
“If I can hear echoes,” I continue, “maybe I can do more. Patch me in. Like a three-way call, with you as the conduit.”
“Ethan, I’ve never heard of a non-Lycan being able to connect to a pack-bond, let alone a human doing it.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what it would do to you or to the rest of us.”
“We’re losing. Conan’s down. Holden’s got more power than all of you combined.” I meet her gaze steadily despite the fear knotting in my gut. “We need an edge. This might be it.”
Chapter 42 — Ethan
Akila glances over from where she’s monitoring Conan’s breathing. Branson and Xander exchange looks I can’t read.
Rhiannon’s lips press into a hard line. A war plays out in her eyes, duty battling with protectiveness, tactical necessity clashing with the instinct to shield me and the others from harm.
“If anything goes wrong. . .if I feel you slipping or the bond destabilizing, I’m cutting you off immediately. No arguments.”
“Agreed.”
She stills and closes her eyes.
The connection between us shifts. What was a single thread suddenly becomes a doorway, and Rhiannon pushes it open.
. . .is he serious. . .
. . .we need to get Conan out. . .
. . .Commander, what is he. . .
The sensation throws me off balance. It’s not like hearing Rhiannon’s thoughts, familiar and intimate. This is a cacophony. Three distinct presences are melding together as one chorus andbrushing against my consciousness, each one carrying their own texture, their own emotional weight.
I can hear all of you!
Branson’s mind feels like bedrock. Solid. Immovable. Akila’s burns bright and fierce, her fear for Conan searing through everything else. Xander’s mind carries steadfast authority, heavy with sharp-edged thoughts and controlled power.
And beneath it all: Rhiannon. The conduit. The bridge. The effort it takes her to hold the channel open bleeds through, she’s strained by the effort of maintaining a connection that was never meant to include someone like me.
I’ll explain later.Rhiannon’s thought slices through the noise with military precision.Right now, we use this. Ethan can feed us intelligence in real-time. We’ll use his observations to our advantage.
Holden is trying to get the protective charm Haron gave me.I push my thoughts to the others through Rhiannon.There must be a reason why. I think it can stop his ritual. I just need to figure out how.
Okay then,Xander thinks.What’s the plan?
Rhiannon’s mind sharpens, and her tactical training kicks in like a machine clicking into gear.Branson, you’re our wall. Draw his attention, make him think we’re trying another direct assault. Akila, circle left—stay in his peripheral vision but don’t engage until I signal. Alpha, flank right. Cut off his escape route to the temple entrance. I’ll take him straight on.
And Ethan?Branson asks.
Ethan has the hardest task — figuring out how to stop this fucking ritual. No matter what, don’t let Holden get that necklace.
Yes, Commander!
The pack moves.
There’s no countdown, no verbal signal. Just a shared pulse of intention that ripples through the bond, and suddenly they’re flowing out from behind the pillars like shadows with purpose.
For the first time since we entered this temple, we’re not just reacting.
