Page 205
If anything, this is my punishment. To spend the rest of my immortal life watching my Packmate build a perfect life with his Fated Mate—the very female I was too fucking cowardly to fight for, let alone own my feelings for.
I basically showed Fate exactly how little I deserve her.
It makes sense that this would be my punishment. Cruel, but fair. An eternal reminder that when it mattered most, I failed her. Stood by silently while she broke right in front of me, falling apart a little more every day while I did nothing.
“Thanks so much for waiting for us.”
I’m yanked back to reality by the haughty feminine voice of our newest Omega housemate and twist in my seat to see Branwen and Kane stepping through the door, a look of irritation on the Omega’s face that I’m pretty sure is just her default setting.
Well, for everyone but Caelan, Soren, and Idril. Basically, she hates anyone who’s ever hurt Idril, and I don’t blame her.
“You’re here!” Idril’s face lights up when she sees her friend, and despite how bitchy the Omega is to me, I can’t help but feel genuine gratitude toward her.
“Aye, nice to see ye as well, Lass,” Kane replies as he and Branwen take seats at the opposite end of the sectional.
Branwen rolls her eyes. “She was talking to me, you wanker.”
“Ye dinna ken she dinna mean me, too,” Kane argues, surveying the room like he’s searching for something before adding, “Either way it’s nice to get out of my Beast form and back on two legs. Are there snacks? Yer wee cat hunts all the good bits o’ prey in the forest.”
“No! No snacks.” Dax snaps, his patience fraying as the room devolves into chaos around him. Predictably, he tries to force everyone back on track. “Soren was just about to tell us what he and Idril found in Cage’s room.”
Soren gestures toward the table where he deposited the phone and paper. “Not much to tell. This is everything—this phone and paper were hidden under his mattress. We haven’t looked at it yet. Figured we’d wait until everyone was together.”
“Well, let’s see it then.” I reach out for them, but Soren gets there first, which is wildly unfair considering he literally just tossed them on the table. Soren leans over Idril and Caelan to hand me the paper, then holds my gaze steadily and slips the phone back into his pocket.
Dramatic, but okay.
I unfold it, smooth the creases, and spread it out on the table. It only takes a cursory glance to make sense of what I’m seeing.
“Floor plans for HQ,” I curse, and it only gets worse from there. “Fates, there are notes about each of us. Where we sleep, where we eat, when we train. Even when we’re most likely to be off rotation.”
“Do you think he sent those to someone?” Caelan asks, leaning over Idril to get a better look. He blinks. Blinks again. “I mean, assuming anyone else can read this shit. This has to be the worst handwriting I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Gods teeth, if this is that lad’s idea of intel, ye could leave the doors open, and they’d still get lost,” Kane mutters.
“Terrible handwriting aside, Caelan’s instincts are spot on,” Daxen adds grimly. “Cage wasn’t writing this shit down to remember fondly when he’s on his deathbed. We already know he’s involved with Varenthrall and the Severed. Chances are high he’s been passing it on.”
“So they’re planning a strike. An attack on HQ,” Branwen muses.
Daxen nods. “This is exactly the kind of information we’d acquire before an infiltration,” Dax sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Fates, we taught the asshole what to look for.”
Idril shrinks into her blanket, pulling it tighter around her and tilting her head to the side. Her eyes dart toward Caelan, then Dax. She frowns, brow furrowed in concentration.
“Idril,” I ask softly, “do you have something you want to add?”
She startles, blushing when everyone’s attention falls on her. Caelan squeezes her hand, and while her touch soothed Caelan, his touch seems to imbue her with courage.
The knot of jealousy in my chest tightens and presses in like it’s making a permanent home.
“It’s just… you’re saying whoever wants this information wants it to break in and strike at the Bloodbound, right?”
She chews on her bottom lip, and despite addressing her question to Daxen, refuses to look up at him. I wonder if he notices.
I wonder if he cares.
“That makes the most logical sense,” he agrees. “I’d like to study it more thoroughly, and it also depends on what we find on that burner, but it seems obvious. The Severed have a singular goal—to displace vampires as a whole in the Species hierarchy. They think they’re better, stronger, smarter. The Bloodbound are their biggest roadblock. They’d have to eliminate us completely before that could ever become a reality.”
Idril’s frown deepens, and I almost expect her to shrink down after Daxen’s reply, but that’s not what happens.
