I shook my head. “Aspen and Oscar swept her. No residue.”
“She’s not a danger to the pack,” I said, my voice harder than I intended. “If she were, I’d have taken her far from here..”
Big Papa’s hand landed heavy on my shoulder, steadying. “Nobody doubts you, Jess.”
Wrecker leaned in. “Question is, what’s our next move? You know Steiner will come looking. And Maltraz will want a pound of flesh.”
I spoke with confidence. “He’s gotta figure out it was us first. We blocked the cameras. When I was with her two weeks ago, I scrambled audio and video. I don’t doubt they’ll figure it out eventually, but it’ll take them a while.”
Bronc didn’t hesitate. “We need to tighten up security. Wrecker, you and Parker get surveillance juiced up. We’ll continue with recon. Papa, if Aspen and Oscar could maybe work on wards around the compound and be sure Harper is protected with some magic as well as muscle?”
Papa gave one of his famous small grins. “I can tell you they put an anti-tracking ward on her when we were about ten miles out of The Woodlands. She’d asked me about it, noting that Steiner has a few witches on staff. Any decent with can scry a location if they had the right tools, and she wanted to prevent them from tracking Harper.”
Bronc shook his head. “You know, for your little witch to have been a dud her entire life, she sure has embraced her new powers. We are blessed to have her in our pack.”
Papa beamed. “She will be thrilled to know you said that, Alpha. I assume it’s fine for me to relay?”
“I’ll tell her myself if you don’t,” Bronc told him before telling me to stay with Harper until we knew more.
I nodded. It wasn’t an order so much as a benediction.
Pearl’s head popped through the doorway, hair piled high and a tray of coffee mugs balanced on one hand. “Y’all look like death warmed over,” she said, setting the tray down. “I brought scones—Aspen’s latest. Blueberry lemon. Eat, or I’ll tell the world you boys are a bunch of ninnies.”
She made her rounds, kissing each of us on the cheek, but lingered a second longer on me. She whispered, “It’s all gonna be okay sweet boy. It’ll be better than you could ever have dreamed.” Then she sailed out, singing Patsy Cline off-key.
Gunner snorted into his coffee.
Bronc shook his head. “Best damn mama in the state,” he muttered.
He turned back to business. “Gunner, get the security teams spun up. I’ll coordinate with Rafe’s people. I want the king to know what’s coming. The last thing we need is another dead alpha laid at the feet of Iron Valor. I don’t want another Council inquiry with our name on it.”
Wrecker saluted, mock-serious. “Nothing more I’d love to do than kill that motherfucker myself. But yeah, let’s let the king’s men take the heat.”
The meeting broke up fast. I made it to the end of the hall before Big Papa caught up.
He stopped me with a look. “You alright, son?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He didn’t buy it. “You’re not fine. You’re angry, and you’re scared.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”
I stared at the floor. “She already left me once? What if she doesn’t want to stay?”
Papa’s smile was slow and sad. “Then you let her go. But you give her the chance first.”
He patted my back, almost knocking the wind out of me. “Remember: ‘Freedom is a gift, not a test.’”
I managed a smile. “Thanks, Papa.”
He squeezed my shoulder once more, then headed upstairs.
Outside, the sun was high and sharp, bleaching the grass to bone. I felt the itch under my skin—the urge to run, to shift, to let the wolf take over.
Gunner appeared at my side, hands in his pockets. “You wanna run?” he asked.
