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“I wasn’t there, but I’ll take your word for it. That also seems acceptable given the circumstances.”

/~/~/~/~/

Tuesday night, Rook gave up on sleep around two a.m. Ethan wasn’t in bed with him, so clearly he was having similar issues.

He found Ethan sitting on the floor in the training room, surrounded by all of the printouts of Pope’s background - property records, business acquisitions, known associates, travel history… Ethan had cross-referenced everything twice already.

“You’ve already memorized all of this.” Rook leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m reviewing for inconsistencies.” Ethan didn’t look up. “Pope’s been operating for decades, but his trafficking involvement only became overt after Vane’s death, from what Julian and Silas have said. Before that, it seemed that he stayed isolated from it all, just selling the artifacts while maintaining plausible deniability. Something changed.”

“We killed his buyer.” Rook couldn’t think of anything else that might have been different. “Vane was purchasing suppression technology.”

“Which means Pope lost a significant revenue stream.” Ethan tapped a photograph of the renovated church. “It’s possible he’s expanding operations to compensate, but he’s doing it recklessly. The tracking sigils, the direct recruitment through Voss - these are aggressive moves that increase his exposure.”

Rook crossed the room, pulling a chair up beside him. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking Pope’s desperate, and that desperate people make mistakes.” Ethan met his eyes. “But they’re also more dangerous because they have less to lose.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” Ethan set down the photograph. “Because if we don’t stop him, he’ll keep hunting other people like me - beacons. Maybe guardians aren’t the only ones who can see the light you say me and Julian have. What if Pope can do it? Eventually, he’ll find another one, and that one might not have a guardian to protect them yet.”

Realization flooded through Rook’s body. His mate wasn’t just protecting himself or avenging Voss’s victims like his friend, Fiona. He was thinking about hypothetical future beacons who might not be as lucky. Ethan had a protective streak that rivaled a guardian’s, wrapped in logic and trying to plan for every contingency instead of relying on shadows and teeth.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” Rook said.

“Technically, I don’t think your physiology supports cardiac arrest.”

“Then I’ll invent a new way to have one just for you.” Rook pulled him into his lap, savoring the way Ethan relaxed immediately, the bond humming with tired affection. “Come to bed. You need rest if you’re walking into Pope’s den tomorrow.”

“I have three more files to review…”

“Julian already reviewed them. Twice. You’re constantly going over details because you’re nervous, which is understandable, but you need to rest.”

Ethan went still. “The bond’s giving me away again?”

“The bond’s keeping you safe again.” Rook stood, carrying him toward the door. “And right now, that means sleep.”

Ethan didn’t argue, he just wound his arms around Rook’s neck and let himself be carried to bed, and for a brief moment, that helped Rook feel better…for the moment at least.

/~/~/~/~/

Wednesday afternoon arrived too fast and not fast enough.

They drove to the historic district in silence, Ethan reviewing notes while Rook’s shadows crawled restlessly across the van’s interior. Silas sat at the monitoring station - three screens tracking heat signatures, ward activity, and the body camera hidden in Ethan’s shirt collar.

“Perimeter secure,” Thorn’s voice crackled through the earpiece he’d insisted on so Julian and Ethan could hear what was going on. “Cillian’s on the north side, I’m covering south. Rook stays in the van.”

“And we’re two blocks out,” Silas confirmed, pulling into an alley behind a closed clothing shop. “This puts you at optimal bond range without triggering any potential wards.”

“They’re not potential, they’re there.” Rook could already feel the wards. They felt like grease in the air, and they were heavy which made his shadows want to move away just to get clean. Pope’s church sat two blocks east of where they were parked, its Gothic spire visible over the rooftops.

Ethan checked his reflection in the van’s mirror, adjusting his button-down collar. The leather portfolio contained Julian’s fabricated credentials and authentication tools that would pass inspection. He looked every bit like a professional art consultant - calm, competent, and slightly nervous in an entirely human way. Normal, in other words.

“Remember the protocols,” Rook said.

“Drop if shooting starts, abort if the bond goes cold, you’ll arrive in two seconds if Pope makes contact with my skin.” Ethan turned, cupping Rook’s face. “I remember.”