I return my focus to the binder in front of me and pull my stylus across the tablet screen.
The data is what matters right now. Finding what's in this data is what keeps them safe.
I've been through the patrol logs four times, and the picture doesn’t change.
Gideon Rourke's authorization seal, stamped in blue ink at the bottom of altered route assignments going back nine weeks before the first confirmed rogue kill. Not every change—that would be too obvious. Just the ones that matter.
I tap the table with the end of my stylus, thinking it through.
Gideon is in his sixties, heavyset and deliberate, with the build of someone who was formidable twenty years ago and still carries the memory of it in his posture. He's not running through these mountains at night slaughtering deer and ambushing hikers.
The rogue's attack profile belongs to something younger, faster, physically aggressive in the way that peaks in early adulthood and starts to soften after thirty-five. That's not Gideon on those trails.
But someone is directing the rogue. Someone with pack authority, intimate knowledge of patrol scheduling, and a very specific goal that the kills are serving.
I pull up the attack timeline alongside the patrol alteration dates and line them up on a split screen.
Every major rogue escalation is preceded by a corridor opening within forty-eight hours. Not coincidence. The rogueisn't finding gaps in patrol coverage. The gaps are being made available, and the rogue is walking through them on cue.
Gideon has been challenging Alden in council since before I arrived. He's building toward something. The Blood Moon challenge is only the most visible layer of it.
But challenges can be lost, and a man who has spent nine weeks systematically dismantling border security while feeding a rogue wolf through the resulting holes isn't planning to leave his outcome to a fair fight.
I just can't prove the connection yet. The authorization seal puts Gideon's hand on the patrol changes. It doesn't put his hand on the rogue.
I close the binder and reach for my thermos.
Ciaran findsme still in the archive room an hour later, when the light through the window has shifted from gray to the pale gold of early morning and the training field below has thinned to a handful of wolves running perimeter drills along the fence line.
He takes in the spread of binders and the tablet screen without comment and pours himself coffee from the secondary thermos someone left on the shelf without asking whose it is.
"Gideon's seal is on every altered route," I say, without looking up from the split screen. "You already knew that."
"I confirmed it," he says.
"Is there anyone else with authorization to change patrol patterns?" I ask. "Another council member with the right access level?"
Ciaran sets his cup down and leans against the shelf. "Other council members oversee specific responsibilities—border disputes, resource allocation, enforcer training. Route scheduling is Gideon’s jurisdiction." He pauses.
"And Alden has master access to everything?"
"Yes."
So, two people in the pack can alter patrol timing without triggering an automatic flag. One of them is currently preparing to fight the other for Alpha.
I pull the authorization logs forward on the tablet. "Walk me through the access hierarchy. If someone below council level wanted to route a change through Gideon, how would that look in the logs?"
Ciaran studies the screen. "It would look like a standard approval. The log captures the seal, not the conversation that preceded it."
"So, Gideon could have approved changes someone else requested, and the record wouldn't show who initiated it."
"Correct."
I sit back and tilt my head until I’m looking at the plaster ceiling. The stone is old, the mortar between the blocks worn soft and smooth.
"I repositioned four cameras along the eastern corridor while we destroyed traps. If anyone moves through that zone, I'll have footage." I bring my gaze back to Ciaran. "The pack is occupied with Blood Moon preparations. The training field is full, the war room is running strategy sessions, and everyone's attention is on the challenge. That's the best window I'm going to get." We lock eyes for a long moment. "I want to go back out to the trails tonight."
He doesn't answer immediately, which means he's already working through the argument rather than refusing outright.
