"I have you, Jen. I have you. Stay down. Fen is doing what we need him too, protecting you."
"He could. He could come back this way. He could —"
"He is not going to. Feel the bond. Tell me what it's doing."
I feel it.
The hollow is full — the fullest it has ever been, a presence in my chest with weight and direction — and the direction is not toward me. The direction is between me and the threats. Fen has put himself on the south flank of the campground.
He is not coming to me.
He is keeping them from me.
Across the campground the last Syndicate gun fires once. A trank, going wild. There is a wet sound under it. Then nothing.
The trees are quiet.
Clear,Daron's voice through the radio.South clear. East clear. Two surrendered. Five down. Two are —a pause.Fen got two.
How is he?Thaw's voice on the channel.
Sitting. Quiet. He’s repeating “Jen”. Is she ok?
Dean does not move off me yet. He is doing something with his free hand — patting down the gravel beside us, then his own jacket.
His hand stops at the inside of his jacket.
He swears, low.
"What?"
"Hold." He pulls something small and black from the inside pocket — a tactical earpiece, the kind a comms operator wears, the green light on its side still active. He thumbs it off and shows me. "I patted one of the cabin shooters down before we left. Took it. Forgot about it. The light has been on the whole drive."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning whoever is on the other end of that piece has been live to whatever it could pick up from inside my jacket. Muffled but there. My voice clear. The cabin engagement. The drive. The pull-off. The Fen call."
The bond at my sternum spikes. Thaw, reading the change in me from wherever he is on the perimeter — alarm without a source, the alpha registering that something in me has gone cold.
The radio on Dean's belt crackles.
Thaw's voice. Short. "Dean. Status."
Dean keys the radio. "Compromised comms. Found a live earpiece in my jacket from the cabin shooter. It has been broadcasting for hours."
A pause on the line. One second. Two.
Then Thaw, voice flat as new ice. "Crush it. Now."
Dean drops the earpiece on the gravel and crushes it under his bootheel. The green light goes out.
"They had a window," Dean says. Quiet. "From the cabin to now. Audio. Voices. They have heard us call the moves."
I let that sit.
The pack is alive. Fen is sitting on the south edge of the campground asking through Daron whether his mate is okay. The Syndicate shooters are down or surrendered. The engagement is over.
The Syndicate has been at the table the whole time.
