Page 28 of Accidentally on Purr-pose

The armored SUV's leather seats should have been comfortable after months of walking to every new destination, but Freesia couldn't shake the restless energy coiling through her muscles with every mile that passed beneath the reinforced tires. Because the closer they got to the northern safehouse, the closer they were to answers she desperately needed but wasn't sure she was prepared to hear.

Fifty miles, she reminded herself, adjusting the leather satchel across her torso. Fifty miles to find out if Angus Vael will help us or if this entire mission is stepping into another trap.

Through the tinted passenger window, Singapore's countryside blurred past in shades of emerald and gold—dense jungle canopy broken by patches of cultivated land that spoke to centuries of careful stewardship. Under different circumstances, she might have found the landscape soothing. Today, every shadow between the trees looked like a potential ambush and every bend in the road a place where enemies could be waiting.

"You're thinking so loud I can practically hear it from back here," Luka said from the rear seat, his tone carrying that gentle teasing that had gotten her through countless dark moments.

Freesia glanced back to find her best friend wedged between Zachary and Jason—two of Izei's most trusted enforcers who radiated the kind of lethal competence that made her feel marginally safer about this expedition. Zachary, built like a linebacker with the observant eyes of someone who missed nothing, kept his attention fixed on the side mirrors and surrounding terrain. Jason, leaner but no less dangerous, methodically cleaned his fingernails with a tactical knife while somehow managing to monitor their six o'clock simultaneously.

"Sorry," she said, forcing her shoulders to relax. "Just running through scenarios."

"Good scenarios or catastrophic ones?" Luka asked, though his knowing smile suggested he already had his answer.

"The kind where we get useful information from your brother without anyone trying to kill us," she replied. "So yes, catastrophic."

Izei's deep chuckle rumbled from the driver's seat, sending warmth through their mate bond that she tried unsuccessfully to ignore. Even focused on navigating the increasingly remote roads, he managed to project an aura of unshakeable confidence that made her tigress surge forward with interest.

Stop that, she warned her tigress sternly. We're on a mission, not a date.

"Angus isn't like Cassian," Luka said, his voice growing more serious. "He's honorable. If he agreed to meet, he'll tell us the truth—even if it's not what we want to hear."

Freesia nodded, though the knot in her stomach refused to loosen. The truth was exactly what she was afraid of. Because the truth she'd been carrying for three months—the secret that made her wake up in cold sweats and left her staring at ceilings until dawn—was something she hadn't been able to share with anyone. Not Luka. Not even Izei.

It wasn't just jaguars who attacked the Waverly territory that night.

The memory crashed over her with the same brutal force it always carried—the sound of splintering wood as the royal compound's reinforced doors gave way, the acrid scent of smoke and blood that had filled the corridors where she'd grown up, the horrifying moment when she'd realized the attackers weren't all wearing jaguar scent. Some of them had smelled like panthers.

She pressed her palm against the satchel, feeling the ancient scroll's outline through the leather. How could she tell Izei that members of his own species had participated in the massacre that killed her family? How could she explain that every time she looked at him, part of her wondered if some of his pride had been involved?

He deserves to know, her rational mind insisted. He's risking everything to protect you. He has a right to understand what really happened and if any of his kind were involved.

But her heart recoiled from the thought of seeing suspicion replace the trust in his eyes, of watching their fragile bond shatter under the weight of species loyalty and ancient prejudices.

"What's our timeline once we reach the safehouse?" she asked, desperate to redirect her thoughts toward actionable strategy.

"Angus said he could give us an hour, maybe two at most," Luka replied. "Any longer and Cassian might start asking questions about where his Gamma disappeared to."

Izei's hands tightened on the wheel. "What kind of questions has Cassian been asking lately?"

"The wrong kind." Luka's voice carried an edge Freesia rarely heard from her easygoing friend. "He's been obsessed with intelligence gathering—wants detailed reports on panther pride movements, Waverly survivor sightings, anything related to the Waverly Compact. Angus has been walking a tightrope, trying to provide enough information to avoid suspicion while not actually betraying anyone."

"Sounds suspect," Jason commented dryly, never pausing in his knife maintenance routine.

"No, it's not. Angus has principles," Luka shot back. "He stayed with the pride because he thought he could protect our people from the inside. I spoke up and then left because I couldn't stomach watching what Cassian was becoming."

Freesia studied Luka's profile, noting the tension in his jaw and the way his green eyes had hardened with old pain. Exile had changed him in subtle ways—made him more cautious, more willing to trust outsiders, less inclined to give jaguars the benefit of the doubt simply because they shared his species. It was one of the reasons she'd trusted him so completely. Luka had proven that loyalty transcended bloodlines.

"Do you think Angus will be willing to work with us?" she asked. "Or is this just an information exchange?"

"Honestly? I don't know." Luka ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture she recognized as his tell for deep worry. "Three months ago, I would have said absolutely. Angus has always been the conscience of the Vael pride. But Cassian's been systematically isolating anyone who questions his decisions. I'm not sure how much Angus is willing to give now."

The SUV crested a small hill, revealing a vista of rolling countryside dotted with traditional Singaporean architecture. In the distance, Freesia could make out the distinctive roofline of what had to be the northern safehouse—a converted colonial mansion that looked appropriately remote and defensible.

"There," Izei said, pointing toward a stand of ancient rain trees that partially concealed the building. "Looks quiet."

"Too quiet?" Zachary asked, his hand drifting toward the weapon concealed beneath his jacket.

"No such thing as too quiet," Jason replied.