"I'm not saying she has to." Archer starts pacing, that restless energy he gets when his brain's working through a problem. "But did you see her face when Elias dropped the bomb? She was shocked, yeah, but there was something else there. Interest, maybe. Curiosity at least."
I want to argue, to point out that curiosity about a car wreck doesn't mean you want to climb inside and take it for a spin. But he's not wrong. Juniper's reaction was a hell of a lot more complex than Felix's stone-cold rejection. The way her hazel eyes went wide, the little sounds she made as she processed the information, the way she kept glancing between us like she was seeing us for the first time.
And that tiny, traitorous part of my alpha brain whispers…
She didn't say no.
"We need to give them space," I say finally. Every instinct screams to go after them, to prove we're worthy, to show them what they're missing. But that's exactly the kind of alpha bullshit that would send them running. "Let them process. Figure out what they want without us breathing down their necks."
Archer stops pacing, turns to look at me with those earnest brown eyes that still have too much hope in them despite everything he's seen. "What if we prepared quarters for them? In the main section, not the medical wing."
"Are you insane?" The words come out sharper than intended. "You want to give two professional killers easier access to escape routes?"
"I want to show them we trust them." He leans against the table, and I can see him working through the logic in that methodical way of his. "Think about it. Right now they're essentially prisoners in the medical wing. Sure, they can move around, but they know we're watching. They know they're contained."
"Because they tried to kill us," I remind him.
"A week ago. Things have changed." He gestures vaguely at the door they just walked through. "We're asking them to consider being our mates, Bane. That's not going to work if they feel like captives. Even if there's a better chance of them escaping, at least they'll know we're not trying to trap them into this."
I hate that he's making sense. Hate that my tactical brain agrees even while my alpha instincts rage against the idea of making it easier for them to leave. But he's right. You can't build trust with someone who feels caged. And trust is the only fucking chance we have at this working.
"Fine," I growl, already regretting it. "But we're not giving them the room next to the armory."
A ghost of a smile crosses Archer's face. "Wouldn't dream of it. I was thinking the suite on the third floor. The one with the adjoining rooms and the bathroom with that ridiculous soaking tub Carlisle insisted on installing."
Of course he was. I suppose it's not like maximum security worked before.
"They'll need clothes," I say, my mind already shifting into logistics mode because that's easier than dealing with feelings. "Real clothes, not just medical scrubs and whatever we can scavenge. And personal items."
"Juniper would probably appreciate getting her knives back," Archer agrees, and I can hear the fondness in his voice when he says her name. Poor bastard's already gone, even with those scratches on his hand that he wears like a fucking badge of honor.
"Not happening," I tell him, but I'm already mentally cataloging what needs to be done. New bedding, stocked kitchen, security protocols that look less like surveillance and more like general safety measures. "They're going to rabbit the second they see an opportunity."
"Maybe." Archer shrugs. "Or maybe they'll see it as the gesture it is. That we're not trying to own them. That we respect their autonomy even if we want them to choose us."
Choose us. Like it's that fucking simple. Like biology and chemistry and whatever cosmic joke brought us together means anything if they don't want it too.
"We need to deal with the families of the casualties," I say, changing the subject to something marginally less painful. "Now that the crime scene investigation is complete."
Archer's expression darkens. "I'll handle the notifications. I knew them better."
Of course he did. Archer knows everyone better, makes it his business to learn about their kids and spouses and what they do on weekends. It's what makes him a good soldier and an even better man, and it's why this part guts him every fucking time.
"It's also time to consider moving facilities," I inform him of what I've already been debating with myself for days.
Archer raises an eyebrow. "If they tracked us here, they can track us anywhere and being on the move makes us vulnerable, too."
"Maybe," I concede. "Which is why we didn't leave that night, but now that Felix is healing, it's time to consider a move."
"When?"
"A week, give or take," I answer. "It'll give me time to get enough security set up at the backup location. In the meantime, the fact that they waited until Juniper and Felix escaped makes it clear they don't have the means to get in here. yet."
Archer nods thoughtfully. "We need to train the replacements. The new security detail needs to know what they're dealing with. Felix and Juniper aren't typical security risks."
"Understatement of the fucking century." I pull up the personnel files on my tablet, scrolling through potential candidates. "We need people who can think on their feet."
"We'll have to screen carefully," I say, already dreading the interview process. "Background checks, psych evaluations, the works. And they need to understand that Felix and Juniper are under our protection, not prisoners. Any alpha who can't keep his hands to himself gets a bullet from me personally."
