Page 77 of Crimson Moon Falling

“I want people to know.” Gunnar turned around and lifted an eyebrow.

“We may still need it, but not yet.” I could picture Drew pushing up his black-rimmed glasses.

“Where is Conall? Is everything okay?”

The typing stopped for a beat. “He’s fine, but busy. I have to go. Conall will probably call you tonight.”

“Wait, Drew—”

The call ended, and the vehicle fell silent. Gunnar glanced back at me. “That was abrupt.”

I shrugged, feeling restless and raw. “He’s probably doing three things at once.” Freda glanced at me in the rear-view mirror.

The implant processed the exchange, filing away Drew’s behavior as evasive and the photos of Conall and the two women as highly concerning. A cold, uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, reminiscent of the time Conall and his Pack had ghosted me.

The empty road stretched ahead, and jagged, white-capped slopes rose in the distance. My nose and eye had stopped bleeding, but a faint copper taste still lingered at the back of my throat.

When we got home, Gunnar limped to his room for an early night, and Freda went back outside to guard me from the front porch. She hadn’t said more than ten words since she found out I could Spool.

I followed her out and stared at her profile. “We need to talk.”

She didn’t look at me. “I’m a Beta and your bodyguard. There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

Her words felt like a slap. My implant tried to wall off the hurt, but it leaked through, biting and sharp. Freda had been with me nonstop for the past month, and she was there when Jamie was injured and Malcolm died. Now she was freezing me out and treating me like an assignment.

“I’m a Resonant,” I reminded her unnecessarily.

She stared out into the darkness. “You’re not just a Resonant, though, are you? There’s nothing I can do about how I feel. Would you prefer someone else? Maybe Bennion?”

“Bennion might be a competent Beta, but he’s also an annoying jerk, so that would be a no.” I sat in one of the rockers. “When I told Conall what I could do, we were standing in Caleb Campbell’s bedroom, and I’d known him for approximately three hours. I made him swear a solemn pledge that he wouldn’t disclose it to anyone.”

Freda’s jaw worked. “Does anyone else in the Pack know besides Drew?” she finally asked.

“Drew and Ash figured it out on their own, but Jamie and Sahara still don’t know.” I swallowed. “You know what would happen to me if the wrong people found out.”

She nodded and gazed out over the gathering darkness, then sat in the other rocker. “Okay.”

“You can be angry if you want, but it was never about trust. It’s about survival.”

“I’m just the Alpha Mate’s bodyguard.” There was no bitterness in her voice now, just a tired statement of fact.

“You’re not just my bodyguard. You’re my friend… probably one of my best friends. Which is pathetic, I know, since I haven’t known you that long. I thought maybe you, I don’t know, cared about me besides as the Alpha’s Mate.” I held up my palm. “It’s okay. Conall became interested in me when he found out I could Spool. It’s a loaded, dangerous secret, and it changes how people treat me.”

Freda was quiet for a long moment, then slowly exhaled. “It scares me. I’ve been assigned to keep you safe, and suddenly I find out I’m not only guarding my Alpha’s beloved mate but also one of the rarest, most gifted Cogs alive. It does something to a person’s head. You’ll have to give me time to adjust.”

I remembered the photos on my phone. “I may be Conall’s mate, but I’m not his beloved anything. There’s something else you should know. When I went back to the bunker, I wasn’t looking for signs that Viggo had been there. I was looking for General Wilson’s energy signature. Drew verified that I found it.”

Freda pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you go public as a Spooler, I’m going to need a substantial raise and a lot more help. Your life is going to change.”

I stared up at the night sky and thought about my dad. “I know, but I can’t keep hiding.”

The next morning, Gunnar dragged himself to the kitchen table and spread Viggo’s financial records across the scarred surface. I sat opposite with my laptop, nursing a mug of tea. Viggo had lived a simple life, and it didn’t take us long to get through his records.

“His bank accounts don’t show anything,” Gunnar muttered, scrolling through another statement. “No large withdrawals, no unusual deposits. The man paid bills and saved money. His big splurge was eating out at Emma’s Café and buying hiking boots and fishing shit.”

I rotated my neck and sat back. “His emails and texts are just as boring. Viggo’s idea of excitement was debating about the best types of bait to use. There’s nothing here either.”

Outside, a geyser erupted somewhere in the basin, the distant rumble vibrating through the floorboards.