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Fuck. He knows.

I don’t know what he knows, but I recognize that look. It’s the same one he gets when there’s a particularly juicy puzzle he’s sunk his teeth into.

Alright. This is fine. He can’t possibly know exactly what I’m feeling. Can’t know I stood outside the bedroom of a human girl for forty minutes staring at her longingly like some moron in a nineties chick flick.

There’s no way.

Dax is good, but not astral-projection good.

I don’t exhale until he lowers his eyes and turns toward Gav, and I know he isn’t going to say anything. Not tonight, at least.

“Security was minimal around the house. Outside of the wards, he only has a few motion sensors and security patrolling the perimeter. One male, clearly a human. Caelan reported Alexander arriving at around 2100 and walking in without knocking.”

I cut in, grateful for something to focus on besides blue eyes and long white hair I want to wrap around my fist.

“The main house is large, but the security is standard and less than excessive. The security on the secondary structure is far more extensive.”

Gav’s gaze sharpens with interest. “What secondary structure?”

“It’s at the far Northwest back of the property. About the size of a pool house. No windows, one door, with concrete walls and metal roofing. There are motion sensors, a keypad lock that looks high-tech, and multiple cameras. It looks new.”

Silas sits up. “So it’s new construction?”

“It’s not on any blueprints or property records, so it must be,” Dax answers, clicking furiously through websites on his laptop. “I haven’t found any record of it.”

“Could be off the books,” Ford suggests. “What do you think it’s for?”

I swallow thickly, not wanting to say out loud what we’re all thinking. “Could be storage, could be some kind of shed⁠—”

“Could be a prison for trafficked Omegas,” Silas snarls, never one to hold back.

My hands fist, my short nails digging into the meat of my palms as I fight to keep myself grounded. The thought of all those Omegas being so close while we’re sitting here debating the possibility… It makes my stomach churn.

I’ve seen so many fucked up things in this life, but the one thing that never gets any easier with time are abused Omegas. It doesn’t matter if the abuse is new or ongoing, emotional or physical—the idea of an Alpha twisting the biological need for an Omega into something that harms rather than protects will never make fucking sense to me.

I’ve spent centuries rescuing Omegas from various shit situations. I think that’s part of what makes these feelings so confusing. I’ve been around Omegas millions of times and never once have I wanted one the way I want Idril.

Do I like the way they smell? I mean fuck… of course. I’m an Alpha. I’ve scented thousands of Omegas, but never have my instincts reached out the way they did tonight. Never have I felt like my fucking soul is screaming for an Omega as it did for her.

Vae kicks his feet up onto the table. “I’ll help Dax keep digging,” he offers, unsheathing his dagger and using the sharp point to clean under his nails.

“Good,” Gav inclines his head. “What else?”

I continue the rest of the report, carefully skirting around the amount of time I spent standing outside Idril’s window staring at her like a stalker. For fucks sake, all I’d need is a mask, and I’ll be the main character in a Dark Romance.

If Vae ever found out, he would never let me live it down.

Of course, only once I think I’m in the clear does Dax choose to add his own helpful commentary.

“There’s the daughter,” he says lazily, as though he just now thought of bringing her up for further discussion. I feel my muscles tense, but I refuse to react. His eyes on me have been a physical weight these last ten minutes, and I know he’s been cataloging each one of my expressions and micro-expressions. Probably searching for anything that supports whatever theory about Idril he’s created in his head.

“Caelan confirmed her residence. Twenty-two, long white hair, about five feet tall, with a small build. Absolutely no online presence, which is… interesting.”

“Kept sheltered by her father?” Gav suggests. “That idea isn’t out of the realm of possibility. Lots of Alpha fathers are overly protective of their Omega daughters.”

Dax hums in consideration, and his eyes flick to me, studying my reaction. “Assuming she’s an Omega.”

I feel the weight of my team’s attention waiting for my answer.