Page 71 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Milo takes a moment, then he says, “They think the hedge is protection.”

The corner of my mouth tugs upward. Clever, Magpie. “Aye. Which room do ye think it is?”

Milo shrugs. “Kid’s?”

I shake my head—no. “New mothers will barely ever leave their firstborn alone in a room with an open window. Took my sister, Raina, until my nieces were almost eight before she felt comfortable with that.”

“So that’s where I’m heading?”

I nod, then immediately frown. I said we weren’t to split up, but there’s no way I can get through that window, and even if I could, my weight would rattle the home too much and alert the occupant.

Milo bounces in place beside me. “So I…?” He looks at the fence, probably calculating if he can get over it. “And then…?”

“Yeah. I can help ye get over, but coming back will be noisy. We’re not overlooked though, which is fortunate.”

“How high do you reckon that hedge is?”

I glance over at it, then position my hand palm down between us, marking the height against Milo’s sternum.

He lets out a soft laugh. “Welp. RIP my nipples.”

My returning laugh is uneasy. I wipe my clammy palms on my jeans. My palms are never clammy before a mission—this is what I excel at. To bolster me, my wolf pushes forward.

As if Milo can see that internal shift, he pats me on the bicep. “S’okay, big boy. I might look like a princess, but I’m not one.”

Ignoring everything he just said, I direct, “Pass me yer phone. Ye don’t want it falling out of a pocket. If ye need me, ye can just whisper.” I tap the shell of my ear. “I’ll hear ye. If ye need a distraction so ye can get out, I’ll knock on the door. If ye get in trouble… Do ye remember yer safe word?”

Milo gigglesnorts. “Fucksparagus.”

Despite it all, I smile. “I’m right here, Magpie. Ye go in, get yer brush, and come straight back to me.”

Milo’s expression softens, and I could kick myself. I hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“Got it,” he says, expression hardening a split second before he leaps the fence with barely so much as the rattle of chain.

He squats low on the other side, then darts over the yard to underneath the open window. My wolf, who’s been more forward than not since we left the Nest, monitors the quiet and short breaths of an infant, as well as the faint chatter of the TV from the other end of the property. Everything’s stable.

I nod to give Magpie the go-ahead on Operation Hairbrush.

Milo presses himself into the hedge, finds a foothold on a thicker branch, then heaves himself up and through the open window, where he vanishes from my line of sight.

To monitor his vitals, my wolf comes so close to the surface that my cuspids elongate, my field of view increases to allow for the wider setting of his eyes, and my low brow rests heavily across the bridge of my nose.

The buzzing of an incoming call to my phone jolts my heart, and in this more lupine form it seems loud enough to alert the whole neighbourhood. As hurriedly as clawed fingers allow, I check the screen to see Guardian’s name.

He never calls with a mission update, just in case others are listening, so whatever he wants must be personal.

My finger hovers over the accept button, when Milo’s quiet pain rings in my ears. “Owww, ow. Ouch.”

I decline the call, diverting Guardian to voicemail, and stare hard at the window.

There’s an up-tick in Magpie’s heart rate, and I hold my breath while I wait restlessly.

He drifts closer to the window, his white-blond hair easily visible in an otherwise dark room, then offers a wide smile and a thumbs up.

The television in the front clicks off.

A second of silence passes.