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“Absolutely not,” Dax scoffs. “I’m not handing over the only piece of evidence we have.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want my bloody help or not?” She stands, her graceful movements at odds with her scathing tone. Crossing the space separating her from Dax, hands planted on her hips, she lets loose.

“Do you even want to know what those texts are referring to, or are you planning on simply stumbling blindly through evidence you didn’t even bother to procure yourself until you make so many incorrect assumptions that you end up hurting someone innocent thanks to your fucking hubris? I mean, from what I can tell, that’s simply standard operating procedure around here. I guess that’s my fault for assuming I’d be working alongside grown males who aren’t going out of their way to make things more difficult, but it seems I’m mistaken.”

The glare she aims at Daxen is terrifying. It’s the same way my Mother used to glare at me when I misbehaved as a child.

Dax, of course, refuses to back down.

“I don’t know you,” he bites out, but his voice doesn’t carry the conviction he’s trying to convey. “You’ve been clear you’re here for Idril, not us.”

I can feel Idril physically shrinking into her blanket, like she wants to disappear. She pulls it tighter around her shoulders, and I’m so fucking glad I thought to purchase extra Nesting material for her, and at the same time, I’m so fucking pissed that she requires something soft and warm and safe right now to begin with.

Branwen, to her credit, doesn’t cower an inch. She stares Daxen down, holding his gaze as well as any Alpha. The girl has a spine of steel, that's for sure.

A tense moment passes, then the Omega lets out a laugh that’s so eerily similar to a cackling witch that the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“Oh, I get it now,” she laughs. “I thought it was only Idril, but it’s not. Not by a long shot.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Daxen demands, nostrils flaring.

I raise my hand because I know the answer. Fates, I think we all know the answer, outside of the newcomers in the room.

“It’s Omegas in general, is that it?” She steps closer, her tone mocking. “Yes, that’s exactly right. Here. I’ll make you a deal, you absolute skirt-shirker.”

She spins, pointing at me. It takes everything in me not to shrink away from that finger.

Fates know what she might do pointing that thing all willy-nilly like that.

“You give me the phone, and Vaelenor can stay with me the entire time. That way I won’t be able to do anything to manipulate anyone. Not with a big, bad Alpha to remind me of my place.”

She smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. It’s the smile you’d see on a shark. The Omega isn’t even angry. She’s more delighted knowing she’s got Daxen’s number. The deliberate emphasis she put on the word ‘manipulate’ isn’t lost on either of us.

“Ouch, I might marry that one. She can terrify me ‘til death do us part,” Kane announces to the room, and Branwen tosses him a smirk and a wink over her shoulder.

Gods help me, if those two ever actually hook up, it would be like watching a natural disaster unfolding in real time. All the Bastards in the US wouldn’t stand a chance against their combined shit-talking.

Dax actually seems to be considering her proposal, which I wasn’t expecting. He raises a brow at me in question, and I shrug, not really minding if I have to babysit the Omega while she does whatever voodoo shit she does to See things.

It might be nice to get some damn answers without adding a couple thousand more questions.

“Fine,” Dax agrees. “Vaelenor will stay with you the entire time while you do…” he waves his hand between them dismissively. “Whatever the hell it is you claim to do that has been helpful exactly once since you showed up out of nowhere.”

Branwen throws back her head and guffaws. “Gods, you have a reckoning coming, Daxen Montclair, and the more you talk, the more excited I am to see it.”

She retakes her seat, muttering a string of curses under her breath. The only things I catch are “bloody pussy-petrified tosser,” but I’m pretty sure that’s on purpose because the moment the words are out, Dax shoots from his seat, eyes flashing with rage.

“Fear has nothing to do with my decisions. I just don’t trust whatever brand of chaos you're involved in.”

Before he can take one more step toward the Omega, Idril’s voice cuts through the tension unexpectedly.

“I think that’s quite enough.” Her tone is soft, but purposeful. And apparently so unexpected that Dax’s jaw drops open in shock. He turns slowly until he’s facing her, then stares at her for what feels like forever.

Not once does she look away.

Next to her, Caelan sits still as a statue while Soren eyes Dax like he’s contemplating twenty-eight different ways of pulling his spine from his body. And yet, neither male steps in.

“Excuse me?” Daxen finally asks, tone low and sharp.