Page 207

“There,” he says smugly, sliding the battery back in before powering it on. “Now the phone can’t possibly call home.”

The device only takes a few moments to power up. It’s not old by any means, just basic, which works in our favor.

We wait in silence as Dax scrolls through the phone, reading whatever he happens to come across. When he’s finally done, he frowns.

“What?” Idril asks, leaning forward intently.

“There’s nothing on there that’s helpful,” Branwen explains, which only serves to piss Dax off more.

“Oh, did your powers of Sight tell you that?”

The Omega flashes him a smile that’s all teeth. “If I’d Seen what was or was not on that phone, I’d have mentioned something sooner. For your information, it’s your shitty attitude that gave it away. Though, to be fair, you always have a shitty attitude, so who can truly say.”

Idril chokes on a laugh, slapping her hands over her mouth belatedly. Daxen’s head snaps in her direction, and just like that, her laughter cuts off, and the smile falls from her face.

My Alpha growls, and my hands clench into fists. I want to fucking kill him for that. I hate the way she wilts around Daxen and me so easily. I wish she knew just how badly I want her to be happy. To see her confident and strong and free—things I’ve only caught little glimpses of over the last few days.

I can’t blame her for her reaction, though. Frankly, I’m not sure how she can even stand to be in the same room as us. Earning her forgiveness feels more and more like a pipe dream the more I’m forced to face just how deeply we hurt her.

I hate myself for all of it. For hurting her, for letting Daxen hurt her, and for the way my Packmate and brother looks at me even now—like he still can’t believe how I could have let him down so spectacularly.

Like he doesn’t even know who the hell I am anymore.

“The texts are meaningless,” Dax grunts, waving Branwen off. “I mean, I’m sure they mean something, but there’s no context, so they don’t really make any sense. And there are only three, which doesn’t help much.”

“Read them,” Caelan demands. Dax scrolls back up and, with a tone that conveys exactly how little he thinks this will help, reads the first text.

“‘The lock is weakening. We must get it under control. Destruction of the key is looking more and more viable as an option.’” He scrolls down. “Then, ‘Report back to me on any talk. I’m sure one of them has noticed by now; the entire world is on edge.’”

Something about that one resonates. I can tell by the way he swipes his thumb across his lower lip, his brow furrowed in thought. Whatever it is, he shakes it off and refocuses, moving on to the final text.

“This final one is the strangest of them all. It says, ‘This will all be for nothing if you don’t destroy the key. I don’t care how you do it, but get it done.’”

Soren raises a hand. “Wait a second, who’s writing those texts? Are they from Cage or to him?”

Dax shakes his head, passing back the burner when Soren reaches for it. “There are no outbound texts. Those are all inbound, and they’re all from a spoofed number. It’s the same person—the style is uniform—but different numbers. I can take a stab at tracing them, but the chances are high that tracing will lead to jack shit.”

Sighing, he leans back and stretches. His black henley snakes up at the movement, exposing a few inches of flat abs. It’s not something I’ve ever bothered to notice before, but thanks to the fact that I’m apparently obsessively tuned in to Idril’s every movement and reaction, I feel the exact moment her awareness shifts. Her breathing hitches, and from the corner of my eye, I watch as her eyes zero in on those few inches of tanned skin like a predator homing in on prey.

Her pupils visibly dilate, and her breathing deepens until she shifts, squirming in her seat. It’s not until Branwen loudly and pointedly clears her throat across the room that Idril’s eyes snap down, heavy pooling beneath the pale skin of her cheeks.

That’s not exactly strange, though. I mean, fuck, I get it. Dax is a good-looking guy.

Obviously not as good-looking as me, but he's never had any trouble picking a female up when he cares enough to try.

What shocks me isn’t her reaction to him. It’s Caelan’s reaction to Idril.

It’s immediately obvious to me that Caelan was aware of her reaction the whole time, just like I was. And instead of getting pissed, like I’d naturally assume, he simply squeezes her hand with his and swipes his thumb back and forth across her knuckles.

Idril glances up at him from beneath her lashes, and instead of tension, the soft, reassuring smile he gives her has my mind fucking exploding.

I don’t… I don’t understand.

Does he simply not care that Idril was just checking out Daxen? Don’t Alphas lose their fucking minds if their Omegas so much as acknowledge another male’s looks?

Is it just because we’re Pack? Is there just no jealousy there because of our Fated Pack Bond?

“I can work on deciphering the texts,” Branwen offers. “There’s a good chance that if I concentrate, I’ll See something. I’m going to require the phone, though.”