"We already have targets on our backs," Carlisle points out. "Might as well make them neon."
"The question is where," Elias says, and I can hear papers rustling. "It needs to be something big enough to draw attention but not so big we can't control the variables."
"The auction," Bane says, and there's something in his voice that makes the shadows perk up. "The underground one next week. Every piece of shit in the trafficking world will be there."
"Including whoever's been protecting these operations," Carlisle adds. "Our mysterious benefactor might even make an appearance."
"It's perfect," Archer agrees, though he doesn't sound happy about it. "We hit it, make a scene, and see who comes crawling out of the woodwork."
"We'd need bait," Elias says carefully. "Something to make it irresistible. An omega would?—"
"No." Bane's voice goes hard. "We're not using Juniper."
"I wasn't suggesting?—"
"Good. Because it's not happening."
Carlisle chuckles, low and knowing. "Speaking of our hellcat, we seem to have an audience."
Fucking psychopath and his supernatural awareness. Felix and I exchange a look—his saysbusted, mine saysfuck it—and we stroll through the door like we own the place.
"Planning a party without the guests of honor?" I ask, dropping into an empty chair with zero grace. "I'm wounded. Devastated. My feelings may never recover."
Bane has the decency to look slightly guilty. His massive frame shifts in his chair, and he runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry. Old habits die hard. We're used to working as a unit."
"A unit that's apparently allergic to sharing intelligence," Felix observes, leaning against the wall in his signature 'I'm too cool for furniture' pose.
"We were going to brief you once we had a solid plan," Archer says, which is such military bullshit that I actually laugh.
"Brief us? What are we, the press corps?" I lean forward, fixing each of them with a look that's probably scarier than I intend. "Listen up. Felix and I aren't housepets you keep informed out of courtesy. We're the deadliest motherfuckers in this room, and if you're planning something that involves the killers coming after us, we want in."
"Juniper—" Elias starts, using his doctor voice.
"Don't 'Juniper' me with your reasonable tone and your concerned eyes." I stand up, pacing now because sitting still when I'm pissed is impossible. "If you think I'm hanging up my assassin pants to play housewife just because I let you get me through one heat, you're out of your fucking minds."
Elias's lips twitch into a smirk. "What exactly do assassin pants look like?"
"Tight," I say, running my hands down my thighs for emphasis. "Really fucking tight. I might even let you see them if you stop acting like overprotective alpha holes."
Carlisle barks out a laugh. "She has a point. The plan would benefit from an omega. Especially one who can handle herself."
"I don't like it," Archer says immediately. "Using our mate as bait?—"
"Oh, soldier boy." I move to his chair, draping myself across the arm with theatrical flair. "I make the best kind of bait. The kind that shoots back."
"And stabs," Felix adds helpfully. "Don't forget the stabbing."
"And occasionally drops chandeliers on people," Carlisle contributes, that dangerous smile playing at his lips.
Bane sighs, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. "We're not going to win this one, are we?"
Felix pushes off from the wall. "No. Absolutely not. You might as well accept it now and save yourselves the argument."
"Fine." Bane's shoulders slump in defeat, but there's something that might be pride in his eyes when he looks at me. "But we're still alphas, and you're still our omega. There need to be ground rules to keep you safe."
"Ground rules," I repeat, tasting the words like they're particularly boring vegetables. "Fine. We'll do it the boring, safe, rule-following way. But if anyone tries to wrap me in bubble wrap, I'm setting something on fire."
"The warehouse incident," Felix mutters.
