The security office in this house was obviously set up by my father and it feels comfortable to take his seat. Everything is how he left it. There’s even the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric of his chair.
I allow myself to be swallowed by the executive monstrosity and turn my head toward the fabric to breathe deep into the bottom of my lungs. “I miss you, Da.”
I allow myself another minute of soaking in the sensation of my father, and then I sit up and move the keyboard into position. To a stranger, this system might seem overwhelming, but I grew up with these tech protocols.
I know how to find exactly what I’m looking for.
Zane mentioned that he and Huntley got into trouble because their driver, Jaxon, was AWOL when they came out of the DonorWatch office. That doesn’t sit right. Those who are loyal to their king don’t just drive off to get a bubble tea—they stay where they’re told to stay and wait while their king has his meetings.
It takes a bit to find the location and access a street view to locate the cameras that I think will have caught the fight. Accessing the feeds of those cameras also takes a bit of effort, but I’m my father’s daughter, so I get there.
None of the feeds show the fight—amazingly, all the video from all the cameras glitch out the moment Daeva and her men close in. That makes me wonder what kind of magic mojo those dark angel Watchers possess.
But that’s a mystery for another night.
I scroll back to the footage of Zane and Huntley leaving a guy standing at the curb while they walk inside.
With them inside, Jaxon slides back into the driver’s seat and pulls his phone out of his pocket. After casually flipping through his phone, he glances around and then makes a call.
The call is brief—barely a minute—and as he speaks, he leans forward to read the street sign and then checks the front of the building and says something more.
Right after he hangs up, Jaxon pulls the car away from the curb and drives off, leaving Zane and Huntley inside, completely exposed.
“Gotcha,” I mutter under my breath.
But then I remember Zane mentioning that Jaxon was one of the two men who accompanied him while Francesco had him avoiding the residence. If he was at the condo, and he’s a rat, why didn’t they come for him?
A cold rush of dread washes over me as I search through Da’s security feeds and find the link for the condo where I found Zane.
It’s quick to find the recording because Da has it recorded with a time clock. I punch in the date and time I want and then the video flares to life. As I watch, me and Zane leave the suite and then—not ten minutes later—turned vampires storm into the condo.
They stand over Huntley lying on the sofa where Zane put him and my guts churn. Shit. They could have finished him so easily. That would’ve been my fault. I was angry and careless with his life and though I want to hurt him a dozen different ways, I don’t want his death on my hands.
But they don’t kill him. They search the rooms, the kitchen, the bedrooms, and when they’ve realized there’s no one there, they make a phone call looking very unhappy.
And then he arrives.
Jaxon steps into the condo looking worried. He throws his hands up in the air and gestures to the hallway that leads to the main bedroom.
“We already left, asshole. Your raiding party was too late.”
He speaks with the vampires, the familiarity in his body language unmistakable. He knows them. And even though he looks upset that Zane isn’t there, it’s obvious he’s in no danger from them… because he’s working with them.
After another conversation, Jaxon shoos them out and closes the door. Then he takes a seat in one of the kitchen chairs and waits.
I fast-forward to the part where Huntley stirs. He lurches forward, looking groggy, and then Jaxon is playing the part of the innocent bystander.
Traitorous fucker.
The door creaks open behind me, and I whirl around to see Huntley standing there, looking worse for wear. He hesitates in the doorway, his eyes narrowing at my expression.
“Didn’t know you were here,” he says, his voice cautious. “I’ll come back.”
“Don’t bother. Come see this. I found something.”
He steps closer, his brow furrowed as I rewind the footage to when Jaxon walked into the condo. I watch Huntley’s face as the realization dawns, his expression shifting from confusion to anger in a matter of seconds.
“Jaxon?” Huntley’s voice is low, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “That son of a bitch… he’s been working with them all along?”
