Page 51 of Claimed By The Tracker

"They do." Gideon's fingers moved across the keyboard. "Council liaison assigned to Voss's enforcement. Practitioner-class, specialization in ward-breaking."

The bond between me and Lena hummed louder. Not fear. Anticipation.

"Then we've got maybe twenty minutes before they punch through," I said. "Maximum."

"Then we accelerate," Roan said. "Tara, can you reinforce?"

"Not without destabilizing the base structure. Lena's signature is too new—if I layer on top of it, I risk cascade failure." Tara's voice was precise, clinical, the voice of someone running tactical problems in real time. "She has to do this alone. I can only talk her through it."

I crossed the kitchen and sat across from Lena, near enough that our knees almost touched. She looked at my torn shirt, at the blood at my knuckles that wasn't mine, and didn't ask. She just took my hand.

The first real pressure hit the eastern anchor at fourteen minutes.

I felt it through Lena—felt the moment the Voss network made contact with the ward signature, felt her mind move to meet it. She sat with her palms spread on the table, her eyes closed, her voice low and steady as she narrated what she was feeling to Tara.

"What do you need from me?" I asked.

"Just don't let go," she said, and I didn't.

"Pressure on the east. Kinetic, not magical—they're testing the integrity."

"Hold it," Tara said. "Don't push back yet. Let them test. You're learning their approach."

My wolf wanted to move again. Wanted to meet whatever came next with force of my own. But Lena's hand tightened around mine, steady and certain, asking me to stay, asking me to wait with her.

So I stayed.

The pressure intensified at minute eighteen. I felt Lena's magic falter once—just once, a single moment of doubt before her control reasserted. Through the bond I sent her what I could: steadiness, certainty, the knowledge that she was not alone in this, that I wasn't going anywhere.

At minute twenty, the practitioner made contact with the ward.

It came through like lightning through the bond—a sharp, bright impact of power meeting power, intent meeting intent. Lena's eyes snapped open. Her magic flared gold, too bright, and for one moment I thought she was going to overextend, going to burn herself out trying to hold ground against someone with decades of training and institutional backing behind him.

"That's his tell," Tara said. "Do you feel it? He pushes the south side first, before he commits to the main breach."

"Yes." Lena's breath went ragged, and through the bond I felt her recalibrate. Not less power. Different power. She pulled back from the south anchor, let it thin, let the pressure seem to be working, and concentrated everything else into a web that was harder than diamond where they expected softness.

The practitioner hit empty space where the ward should've been. The shock wave rippled through the whole structure—and for the first time since this began, Lena did not hold in silence. She pushed.

"There," I said, feeling it break through the bond a half-second before Gideon's screen confirmed it.

"They're pulling back," Gideon said. "West anchor pressure's dropping. County line in ninety seconds."

The kitchen went very quiet.

Lena's hands were shaking. I held them, felt the gold still trembling at the edges of her palms, and just stayed there. The bond hummed between us—not with adrenaline now, but with something quieter. Recognition. She had held. She had pushed back. She had done it alone, and she had won.

"They'll regroup," Roan said. "That was probe and retreat. They know the capacity of your signature now."

"And they know," Tara said, her dark eyes moving from Lena to me to Roan, "that she's not someone to take through force. The next attempt comes through institutional channels."

"Good," I said. "Institutional, I can out-argue. Physical, I'd rather they didn't try again."

"You good?" Lena asked, nodding at my torn shirt.

"Better than the guy who's still explaining a tree to Voss." I turned her hand over in mine, checking her knuckles the way she'd checked mine. "You?"

"Ask me again in an hour."