Page 79 of Crimson Moon Falling

Conall’s jaw tightened. “So they believe him when he says Apex had nothing to do with it.”

“Some do. Not all.” Malachi pulled up a graph that showed a breakdown of social media sentiment by demographic. “The younger crowd and educated folks are skeptical as hell. But your average middle-aged suburban voter? They’re split. If we push harder without something concrete, we risk those folks backing Wilson.”

Ash leaned forward. “Apollo’s stock stabilized yesterday. Down twenty percent from its peak, but the freefall has ended.”

“That’s the other red flag.” Malachi’s voice hardened. “The markets believe this will blow over, as these scandals do. They’re betting the hearings go nowhere and that Wilson weathers the storm.” Conall knew what that meant. The machine kept running, and shifters would likely face federal registration requirements.

“The Council’s fracturing,” Ash murmured. He’d spent the morning in backchannel meetings while Conall was on the Hill. “A few senators are questioning the chain of custody for the evidence, saying it could’ve been planted.”

Conall’s wolf growled at the slight to his mate. “Planted by who exactly?”

“He’s not making the argument to people who care about the truth,” Ash reminded him. “He’s making it to those who want a reason to look away.”

Malachi exhaled tiredly. “The public outrage isn’t about the torture or kidnapping, or even civil rights violations. It’s about Cog and contamination.” He met Conall’s gaze, his blue eyes steady.

The word landed like a stone in Conall’s gut. Contamination. It was the same word Christopherson had used in the Council chamber the other day, his face twisted with disgust.

His phone sat on the table beside him, its screen dark. Riley had called last night but didn’t leave a message. Then she’d sent a short text. He’d seen it just as another crisis blew up his phone.

By the time the dust settled, it was midnight in Wyoming, and something in him had hesitated. The bond felt thin and cold all day. Last night, he’d told himself she was sleeping. Then this morning had brought more meetings and more maneuvering. He’d lost track of time.

His wolf paced, agitated and pissed off. The bond should have felt warmer, even if she was fatigued or angry. He’d been able to sense it more clearly lately, and he found he didn’t want to go back.

“We’ve almost got the registration legislation buried,” Ash murmured. “The Feds can’t force testing while this scandal’s burning. But if we push on Wilson and Apex without something airtight, we risk turning him into a martyr. My advice is to let this play out and hope the journalists dig up some dirt.”

Conall nodded. Wilson’s energy signature, pulled from that metal desk, processed through the fMRI machine and the government database, would have done the trick. But using them meant exposing how they’d been collected and exposing Riley as a Spooler.

Malachi stood. “I’ll work my contacts among the other Alphas. See if I can peel a few of ’em away from Alexander’s orbit.” He clapped Conall on the shoulder. “Get some rest, son. You look like hell.”

“I’ve looked worse.”

Malachi smirked. “That’s not much comfort.” He nodded to Ash and let himself out.

The door clicked shut, and Ash stood and stretched, his vertebrae popping softly.

“On the bright side, I talked to Jamie today. He’s finally coming home.”

Conall rubbed his eyes. “Thank fuck. How’d he sound?”

“His usual cocky self on the surface. But he’s tired.” Ash grabbed a bag of pistachios and cracked one open.

Conall shut down his computer and poured himself two fingers of bourbon. “I’ll be glad to get everyone home.”

Ash’s dark eyes were calm and reflective. “How is Riley doing with the implant?”

“She’s adjusting. I think the implant is too.” Conall swirled the liquid in the glass. “Drew says the hardware’s integrating more smoothly with her neural tissue, so there are fewer spikes and crashes. She and the thing seem to be reaching some kind of arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” Ash’s mouth twitched. “Like roommates?”

“She says it has its own sentience. The thing is analytical as hell, and the coldness is still there, but she says it helps her reason better and regulate her emotions.” He took another sip. The bourbon tasted faintly of woodsmoke and vanilla.

Ash cracked another shell. “Living things adapt and change according to their environment. Her implant is lucky Riley is its host.”

“Shit. That sounds strange when you say it. It’s our bond that troubles me. It’s been distant and quiet lately.”

“Distant how?”

Conall tried to find the right words. The bond was an intimate connection, and describing it to someone else was like trying to explain colors to someone born blind. “Normally, I can sense her. Not with thoughts or words, but feelings and textures. Warmth, irritation, fatigue. That device muted everything and made the bond feel cold, but it’s been improving. Until yesterday.”