I can’t. Can’t explain the wrongness beyond instinct and mate bond and the unshakable knowledge that what I’m seeing isn’t real.
“I don’t know what specifically,” I admit. My hands are shaking. “I just know he didn’t do this.”
“That’s not enough,” Viktor says. His voice is firm but gentle. “I need evidence, Nadia. Not instinct. Not feelings. Not whatever this is between you two that’s making you defend him against reality.”
“There’s nothing—”
“Don’t lie to me.” He cuts me off. Direct but not cruel. “I can see it. Tabitha can see it. Everyone in that briefing room yesterday saw it. Something happened between you and Allon. I don’t care what. That’s your business. But right now I need you to separate personal feelings from professional judgment.”
“My judgment is that he didn’t do this.”
“Based on what?”
Based on the mate bond I’m slowly coming to accept. Based on wolf certainty that overrides logic and evidence. Based on the conviction that Jericho—controlled, disciplined, tactical—would never commit random violence that destroys everything he risked defecting to gain.
“Based on knowing him,” I say instead.
“You don’t know him,” Viktor counters. “You spent time with him under extreme circumstances. That’s not knowing someone. That’s survival.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe that isn’t enough to truly know someone. But the mate bond knows. My wolf knows. And she’s never been wrong about threats or danger or people who deserve trust.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Full investigation. Review all evidence. Determine if this was premeditated or circumstantial. Then decide on appropriate action.”
“And if you decide he’s guilty?”
Viktor’s expression doesn’t change. “Then we execute him for murder within sanctuary walls.”
Execute.
They’re going to kill him.
My wolf howls in response. Desperate. Furious. Heat floods my system with enough intensity that I’m surprised fire doesn’t manifest visibly.
“No,” I choke out. “You can’t!’
Tabitha sees. “You’re going to defend him even if it means betraying Aurora? Even if it means spitting on Samien’s memory?”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She stands. Faces me directly. “You’re choosing him over us. Over the people who’ve been your family for years. Over Samien, who never did anything except trust that you had good judgment.”
The truth in her words stings. The unfairness of them does too.
Viktor stands as well. “Nadia. I need you to stay away from the detention level. Don’t visit him. Don’t try to talk to him. Let the investigation proceed without interference.”
“You think I’d—?”
“I think you’re not thinking clearly right now.” His voice is firm. “So I’m ordering you to stay away. Understood?”
I look at him. At Tabitha’s grief-stricken rage. At the video footage frozen on the screen showing Jericho walking toward a murder scene.
At the evidence that says he’s guilty.
At the certainty in my bones that says he’s not.
“Understood,” I say.
