He swears into the comm. “That’s not random. That’s a grid.”
Her face drains. “What is it?”
I rip it out and start tearing through the rest of the penthouse, calling Deacon to tell him he needs to come back. By the time I’m done, I’ve pulled three more devices from the walls and fixtures. Whoever planted them was good. Too good. They got past Deacon's upgraded security net.
Deacon doesn’t waste a second. He patches into the system from his rig, keys clacking rapidly in the background while a stream of curses bleeds through the comm. The harder he digs, the more I know I’m right—we’ve been compromised, and whoever did it is still out there.
Sadie’s hands tremble as she hugs herself. “So what’s in the file you and Rush keep quoting? Don’t feed me scraps. I want the truth.”
I grip the back of a chair hard enough to crack the wood. “You will get what you need, not what gets you killed. The threat brief is redacted for a reason.”
Her eyes blaze hotter. “Then here’s my bargain. You want me to follow your protocols? Give me more than black bars on a page. If I play by your rules, you play straight with me.”
For a breath I almost refuse, but the fire in her stare hooks me. I unclench my fist, slow and deliberate. “Fine. You get more detail when you show you can follow the basics. That is the deal.”
She looks at me, eyes blazing. “And if they’ve already been watching?”
I meet her stare. “Then let them watch me break every one of their toys.”
Night falls heavily. Deacon is working on the feeds, Rush keeps in touch via phone. and I keep myself stationed in Sadie’s orbit. The danger is more real than ever, but what rattles me worse is how my wolf reacts every time she’s close. The brush of her arm, the tilt of her smile, the defiance burning out of her—it’s a constant assault on my control.
When she finally curls on the sofa, drained from the weight of it all, I hover close, arms folded tight across my chest, every muscle rigid with restraint. The urge to reach down, to feel her warmth, burns through me, but I lock myself in place. The way her breathing slows, the curve of her body against the cushions, it all claws at me. Her presence seeps into my blood, testing the edges of my control until I can almost hear my wolf’s snarl beneath my own heartbeat.
“Go to bed,” I tell her quietly.
Her lashes lift. “Afraid I’ll bite?”
My jaw tightens. “No, I'm afraid I will.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t answer. She just holds my gaze, steady and unyielding, until a rush of heat surges through me so fierce it makes my chest tighten and forces me to turn away before I do something reckless.
Dalton continues a slow circuit of the perimeter when Deacon’s voice slices through the comms, low and edged with alarm: “Gage, I’ve got eyes inside your system. Whoever planted those bugs isn’t finished—they’re active right now, watching you, watching her.”
CHAPTER 5
SADIE
The echo of Deacon’s warning still rings in my head as I wake the next morning. Sleep came in thin scraps. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured unseen lenses blinking in the walls, patient and hungry, waiting for me to move. Dalton made slow passes around and through the building throughout the night, and Gage sat in the chair by the balcony like a statue built to keep bad things out. It should have comforted me. It didn't.
I refuse to live like a ghost in my own life. That's not who I am. So when Gage hands me coffee and says we're laying low, the word no climbs up my throat on instinct.
“I can’t,” I say, taking a long swallow. “I have the Gulf Coast Heritage Foundation gala tomorrow night.”
His eyes go dark, narrowed, the way people do when they're planning a route through gunfire or a gulf storm. “Say that again.” His voice is clipped, harsher than it needs to be. One hand flexes tight against the mug before he forces his grip to ease, as if he knows I noticed.
“The gala,” I repeat. “You know the foundation that works to preserve, protect, and promote the cultural, historical, and natural heritage of the Texas Gulf Coast.”
“Did you write that?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. I sit on the Board of Directors. We've been planning this event for nearly a year. The honorees are flying in. The board expects me to run the final walkthrough today and be on site tomorrow. Not only is it important to the foundation, but to me personally, this is one of my premier events every year.”
“It sounds like a perfect place for predators to blend in and hunt,” he says. “Crowds, noise, confusion. You're not walking into that.”
“It's not a rave. It's a fundraiser.” I set the mug down and fold my arms. “People are counting on me. If I vanish, donors ask questions, press calls the office, commitments dry up. The foundation loses money and then we won't be able to respond when the next crisis hits the Gulf. Try telling communities depending on us that we can't be there for them. Not going to happen.”
His mouth hardens. “Don't kid yourself that you can carry on as usual. They're coming for you, Sadie. Someone went as far as planting cameras in your sister’s home.”
“And the team pulled what they could find,” I answer. “The point of having a wall of Rangers is that I don't have to disappear.”
