Page 88 of Werewolves and Witches AU

I swoop up my laptop on the way through to the kitchen, where I open the pantry, lift out the gun case from under the potatoes at the bottom, and set everything on the counter beside the cooling cookies. Rushing, I connect my phone to the laptop, and use our tracking software to provide Milo’s current location—assuming he’s with his phone.

While it loads, I rewind the surveillance feed from the camera that covers the front door. My wolf is forward, and the golden glow of his eyes reflects from the darkened screen as the greenish-grey hue of night vision plays back at triple speed.

Time-stamped fourteen minutes ago, right after I checked the cameras in the yard and placed the call to Guardian, Milo snuck out of the house and crept out of view of the camera.

My expression sours. He left my protection willingly.

My brow slides lower, and my lengthening nails bite into the flesh of my palm.

Where would Milo need to go in the middle of the night? And why would he go without me?

Nausea turns my stomach—I know why. What I don’t know is where.

I flip back to the geolocation software. Its last ping was seven minutes ago, and it had Milo almost squarely in the heart of downtown. My expression in the laptop screen is thunderous.

Where are you flying off to, little Magpie? And why now?

The nausea solidifies into bile that burns the back of my throat when I realise why I can’t predict Milo’s destination.

The moment he finished his spell cast, the first thing he did was kiss me—and like the consummate professional I am, instead of getting a debrief, I tactically withdrew to the kitchen. Milo is armed with three hours of spell crafting with another powerful witch, and I’m armed… with a tray of freshly baked cookies.

I lower my forehead until it rests on the cool countertop. What an absolute fucking—

The buzzing of an incoming call cuts off the end of that thought. The caller ID shows Riley’s name. My sister—this sister, especially—is the last person on earth I want to talk to right now.

“Lee, now isn’t a good—”

“Don’t ye dare give me that line! Do ye know what time it is over here? Do ye? I’ll tell ye. It’s five a.m., Ro. Five fucking a.m. Let me translate that into Dog: oh five hundred, Lieutenant Colonel. Now, ordinarily, it being five o’clock in the fuckin’ morning wouldn’t be a me problem, because I’d be asleep. But I’m not asleep. Not. Asleep. And would ye like to know why I’m not asleep? Actually, no. I’ll rephrase. I’m going to tell ye why I’m not asleep. Because of ye. Ye and yer stupid ginger wolf—”

“Yer a ginger too. Look, I’m at Critical, Lee. No Duff. Unless our parents were in a fatal accident—”

“I haven’t slept a wink, Ro! Not one, because of ye and yer wolf. So ye can take yer Critical, and shove it—”

I growl.

Riley growls back. “Ye infuriate the ever-loving fuck out of me, but yer also my brother, and my wolf is incredibly insistent that yer wolf isn’t okay. So insistent, in fact, that she hasn’t let me sleep.”

“Lee…”

“Don’t. Look, we both know I like feelings about as much as I’d like a case of the clap, so ye could save us some torment by explaining to me—preferably in five words or less—why yer wolf is so… whatever the fuck he is.”

Despite everything, I smile. Of all the Rangecroft siblings, Riley is the most like me—she’s also most definitely been recruited by the Intelligence Corps, because there’s no way this woman can know all the shit she knows and not have been recruited.

“I, um, lost a Package.” I pin the phone in place with my shoulder, and resume opening the gun case. “But I’ll find it.”

Riley clicks her tongue. “That’s some Package to have gotten yer wolf so…”

I clench my jaw as I load the cartridges. “No different than any other.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, what?” I chamber the gun. “Lee, I need to go.”

“This is mission critical, soldier, so ye’ll listen to what I have to say, or I’ll get Mum to call ye.”

I tense. “Yer bluffing.”

“Try me.”