Page 49

The damage is done, though. Everyone’s attention homes in on me, various expressions of confusion, amusement, and shock painting their faces.

Caelan stares especially hard. I swear I can physically feel his eyes narrow in suspicion. I ignore them and determinedly stare at my laptop screen, pretending to scroll through scrambled readings like my life depends on it.

There’s nothing else to be done. Avoidance is the best and only plan of action here.

“Idril?” Silas perks up at the new information. A smirk stretches across his face, and I know whatever he says next will make me want to punch him.

“That sounds like a prescription medication. Like— ‘If you’re suffering from the inability to nest properly and your whines sound like a car engine backfiring, speak to your Doctor about Idril today!’”

For a moment, I indulge myself in imagining what it would feel like to pick up my laptop and beat Silas over the head with it.

Chaos is my personal hell, and Silas is its reigning, caffeinated, feral king.

Now that his pack—Ford and Evander—have been in Chicago for a grand total of fourteen hours, the younger Alpha is reaching peak crisis mode. He’s about to hit what I like to refer to as his Decline Phase. It’s a special window of time where he becomes progressively more needy and annoying, like a toddler who’s been away from his parents for too long and needs attention to survive.

He’s only going to get more chaotic from here, I just know it.

Leveling Silas with a hard glare, I choose to take the high road rather than indulge in his attention-seeking behavior.

“Yes, well. Not everyone’s parents have common sense. Look at who her father is.” I wave a hand dismissively, hoping they’ll all move on. Vae’s eyes are narrowed on me, his mouth pursed to the side.

I know that look. It’s the little smug smirk he always wears when he thinks he’s caught someone in a lie. Like Silas, I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Turns out, I don’t need to react to either of them, because Caelan has enough of a reaction for both of us.

“Shut the fuck up, Silas.” Caelan snarls like a wolf protecting its cubs. Silas, for the first time in history, actually looks startled, his already pale skin draining of color.

He recoils, and his eyes widen comically. “S-sure, man. Sorry. It’s a pretty name. Seriously. Super pretty. I was thinking of getting a cat. Maybe I’ll name it Idril. You know… because it’s so… pretty,” he finishes his tirade awkwardly, shrinking down under Caelan’s glare until he’s damn near falling out of his seat.

Caelan’s body is tense, a cold glint in his eye. I watch, baffled, as he purposefully unclenches his muscles and rolls his shoulders back. Then, he gives Silas a clipped nod to shut him up, and now he’s the one refusing to look anyone in the eyes.

What. The. Fuck.

“I didn’t realize who she was at first,” Caelan continues, softening his tone. “Just saw a silhouette that didn’t match any profiles we had.”

He launches a recap of what happened, the same one he gave last night, reiterating how I couldn’t find any trace of the girl online.

“Well?” Gav asks, attention swinging to me. “Did you eventually find anything?”

I stretch my legs out under the table and cross my arms.

“Not shit,” I tell him flatly. “And I’ll be real honest with you, it’s raising every red flag I’ve got.” I eye my brother purposely, and am slightly mollified when he cringes.

At least he knows he isn’t acting rationally.

Gavran frowns. “Explain. I don’t have Instabook or Facegram, either. How is that a problem?”

I’m already shaking my head before he finishes speaking.

“Look, I know you don’t really subscribe to all the tech of the last century, but it’s important to understand that being online is basically an epidemic these days. Everyone over ten and under eighty has social media. If not, they’re still online. Looking shit up, reading books, listening to music, and streaming videos. Even Ford gets online now and then, and he still calls the internet ‘The Information Superhighway.’”

Gav’s lips tip up in a half smile.

“It’s not normal for a twenty-two-year-old female to be totally absent online,” I explain, tapping my iPad screen for emphasis. “Gav, she’s not even on the Omega Registry.”

That lands.

Vae sits up straighter. “Wait… seriously?”