“How do you figure that?” Kit asks, their perfectly manicured eyebrows raised. “Because it certainly seems like it from where I’m sitting.”
“Although fae artefacts are now illegal in most countries, there was a time when laws were different. Fae coming to earth often brought along items they considered precious, particularly those religious in nature.”
“What’s that have to do with explosions?” I ask.
Cal’s mouth turns down infinitesimally. “The magic in many of those artefacts reacted badly with Earth’s atmosphere. It was often delayed and unpredictable, the same way an old Second World War bomb can explode decades later. Many people were killed or injured before the BSG—along with most supernatural governments—outlawed all fae artefacts.”
I meet Ethan’s hard eyes. “Whether Far Out Freight are shipping spiritual or historical artefacts intended to be harmless, or whether there really are weapons of some sort involved, both options are potentially dangerous and definitely illegal.”
Jet’s expression is grim. “The most concerning part is that this is a global company. Artefacts ending up in private collections are one thing, but if we’re talking weapons or explosives, where are they being delivered to? Are they ending up in war zones? In the hands of terrorists?”
“We’ve definitely risked our lives for less.” I give Ethan a pointed look.
Ethan growls, and it’s difficult not to lower my gaze and tilt my neck in submission. I don’t like being at odds with my alpha.
“Kit, I want you to search the dark web for any evidence of this,” Ethan says.
They nod immediately. “Yes, Alpha. Although keep in mind that many immortal supes still aren’t that tech-savvy. The dark web is more the domain of magic-users, shifters, and humans.”
“So Far Out Freight might not use it. Fuck.” Ethan scowls at me, his posture still tense. “Fine. I’ll let you remain undercover for the time being. Far Out Freight have given you and Bryn the rest of the week off, so once you’re back, your top priority is confirming which option we’re dealing with. Whatever you and Kit find will inform our next move, because if these particular fae are arms traffickers, we’ll need to involve the BSG Counter-Terrorism Unit at a minimum.”
I nod, torn between relief that my alpha has agreed to let my investigation continue, and concern over how far-reaching the problem could be. “Knowing that might also give us clues about the maybe-missing. Have they been injured and experienced complications after they moved away? Maybe disfigurement that’s keeping them off camera from their loved ones? Or is it like we originally suspected, and they’ve been killed because they witnessed something during their accidents that would give away whatever’s going on?”
Skye’s hand tightens on mine, his hazel eyes hard. “Cal and I are staying with you until you’re fully recovered. We won’t let those bastards get you.”
Kit leans forward. “And I’m sorting you out with a new Dhiren phone as soon as possible. With facial recognition still giving me no hits on our maybe-missing, I want you contactable and trackable at all times.”
“I have an idea.” Ayo lightly rests his hand on my ankle, overthe sheet. “Raj, use the manor this week while you recover. Dante’s crew have taken the week off from my project to carry out repairs on several pack houses—last week’s snow caused some damage, apparently—so there’s no risk to your cover. That way some of us can stay with you while you heal, and you’ll be completely safe behind the ward.”
“What about Bryn?” I ask immediately. “I owe him my life. I’m not comfortable being so far away when he could be in danger, or could experience complications or PTSD. He deserves our protection and support.”
My tiger chuffs his agreement, desperate to lay eyes on Bryn and take care of him.
“Invite him to recover there as well.” Ayo says. “He’ll have space to shift as often as he needs to.”
Ayo’s generous offer eases some of my worry about the dragon. I’d feel a lot better having Bryn with me in a safe location, and I’d be able to look after him if he has any ongoing issues from today. I’m sure it would help him to be able to freely shift as well, since shifting accelerates healing in all species who have the ability.
Ethan immediately holds up a hand. “Not so fast. That’s going to raise a billion questions in Bryn’s mind. Kit, where are we with the deep dive on him?”
Kit presses their fingertips together, their purple glittery nail polish glinting dully in the artificial light. “Our official request for the full court transcript of his trial was declined this morning, so while I can tell you all about his Deaf friends from high school, which supes he hung out with at uni, and how his boyfriend of several years dumped him the minute he was arrested, I can’t give you the deets on his assault conviction without hacking the system.”
Ethan gives them a dry look. “No hacking the BSG. He’s not a suspect, and this isn’t life or death.”
They roll their eyes. “You know I wouldn’t get caught.”
“Not the point.” Ethan turns to me, his brow furrowed. “Isuppose we did already discuss whether to bring Bryn on board to assist with this case.”
I’m aware that because none of the rest of my pack have met Bryn, Ethan’s relying solely on my judgement. The last thing I want is to compromise my undercover work, but I’m more convinced than ever that Bryn could potentially help. Even if all he does is describe whatever magic is active in the warehouse, that’s more information than I have at the moment.
“I know we still have unanswered questions, but I think his actions today have proven he’s worth trusting,” I say.
Ethan gives a sharp nod. “Fine. Get that NDA and contract signed, then the rest is up to you.”
“In that case, I’m done waiting. It’s been hours.” I throw off the sheet and swing my bare legs out of bed, relieved that I’ve already healed enough that Doc P was able to remove the bandages an hour ago. “You lot can either stay here or find Doc P and get him to kick Harley and Milo out. I’m going to see Bryn.”
“Might want to do something about your hair first,” Jet says casually.
Kit backhands him in the stomach. “Shh!”
