14
— • —
Solomon
“You’re shutting her out.”
Lucian didn’t answer. He closed his locker with a controlled click that said more than slamming it would have, and reached for his uniform shirt. The firehouse locker room was empty except for the two of us, the rest of the crew already out on the floor running equipment checks.
I watched him button his sleeves. Precise, methodical, every movement designed to communicate that this conversation was not happening.
“Stop doing that.” I leaned against the opposite row of lockers and crossed my arms. “It’s not doing anyone any good.”
He sat on the bench and pulled his boots from the bottom of his locker. Laced them with the same deliberate focus he applied toeverything. His brow furrowed, the only crack in the composure, and he tied off the first boot before reaching for the second.
No response. Lucian’s version of refusing to engage was more effective than most people’s shouting.
I’d known this man for my entire life. Fought beside him, bled for him, built a kingdom under his command. I knew the difference between his silences. The tactical silence of a king calculating his next move. The predatory silence before violence.
And the stubborn silence of a man who knew I was right and would rather swallow his own tongue than admit it.
This was the third kind.
He finished lacing his boots and changed the subject. “Do you know who the others were? The ones who followed you two the other day.”
I sighed. Recognized the deflection for what it was but let him have it for now. I pushed off the lockers and stood.
“No. But I’m certain someone else was watching.” A frown pulled at my mouth, and the memory of that afternoon surfaced. The ice cream truck, Mira’s laughter, and the sensation of multiple eyes crawling across my skin. “Their presence was almost invisible. I can’t put a name on what I sensed. This is new.”
Lucian paused. The second boot hovered in his hand, forgotten. I could see his mind working behind his eyes.
“If someone else was helping Hudson,” he said slowly, “that means there are others targeting Mira.” His gaze lifted to mine. “Humans? Or do you think other Lytopian creatures have crossed over in this town?”
I’d been turning that question over for two days.
Our kingdom had been isolated in Lytopia for centuries.
The Burning Years, when our pack was near extinction, had driven Veyndral behind its walls. We’d stayed there while other kingdoms formed alliances and connected with the human world.
But isolation had a cost.
While other kingdoms were adapting, building connections, Veyndral stagnated behind its walls. The council had debated it and tried expeditions. However, nothing really changed much. So when a new portal appeared in the kingdom, Lucian volunteered to deal with it himself this time.
And although some in Lytopia disagreed with our independence, we didn’t have many active enemies. We kept to ourselves. Veyndral was wealthy, self-sufficient, and Lucian ruled it with a steady hand that inspired more loyalty than resentment.
Besides, what I’d felt that afternoon wasn’t exactly supernatural.
The presence had been wrong in a way I couldn’t categorize. Not lycan, not fae, not any of the species I’d encountered across realms. Unnatural, certainly. But supernatural? Not quite.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But I don’t have answers either.”
The admission tasted foul. I was his right-hand man. Answers were my function. Centuries of tracking, interrogation, and threat elimination, and I couldn’t identify who was watching my mate eat ice cream. The failure sat in my gut and rotted.
Lucian stared at me, reading my thoughts clearly. The same with how I can read him.
“I trust your judgment, Solomon. If there’s one person who can track this, I know it’s you.” He stood from the bench, pulling his uniform straight. “You’ve never failed me.”
The words landed with the weight of our shared history. Every mission completed, every threat neutralized. Every ugly task performed in silence so his hands stayed clean. He’d never questioned me, and I’d never given him reason to.
