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“I already said I was going back Thursday,” Rook said. His shadows stirred restlessly against his shoulders, agitated by the threat to someone they’d already claimed, even if Rook wasn’t ready to admit that out loud yet. “To the Garrison Theater, I mean. I told Ethan - the bartender I met - that I’d attend a performance of The Tempest.”

Cillian’s black eyes narrowed. “How convenient.”

“And now, it’s legitimate reconnaissance.” Rook ignored the knowing look. “I can observe the venue, identify potential threats, and assess the security protocols.”

“While watching your maybe-mate serve drinks.” Julian’s voice carried no judgment. Julian didn’t judge, he just noted things. “That’s efficient multitasking.”

“He hasn’t met my shadows yet.” Rook glanced at where his shadows pooled under the table, currently behaving themselves. Mostly. “So I don’t know if he’s actually…”

He stopped, remembering the way his shadows had crept toward Ethan’s shoes while Rook stood frozen on the sidewalk and the way one tendril had wrapped around Ethan’s shoelace before Rook noticed and yanked it back. “Although they did seem to want to go back and touch his hair after we left. I caught them before they made contact.”

“Your shadows attempted unauthorized physical contact?” Silas tilted his head, fascinated. “That’s significant mate bond behavior. Did they exhibit other recognition patterns?”

“They wrapped around his shoelace. He didn’t notice.” Rook ran a hand through his hair, suddenly embarrassed about that. “They were trying to be subtle.”

“Shadows are never subtle,” Cillian said flatly. His own shadows wriggled in agreement.

“No kidding.” Rook finished his beer, already planning Thursday’s approach. He was determined not to arrive late - seven thirty was seven thirty, and Rook was sure Ethan would appreciate punctuality. He would also need to learn enough about The Tempest so he didn’t come across as completely ignorant. He could watch Ethan work, catalog his patterns, and identify anyone who paid too much attention to him, all while definitely not being too obvious about it.

“I can help you with the play, if you need it,” Julian offered, moving back to his container organization. “Shakespeare’s political themes are fairly straightforward once you understand the colonial context. The Tempest specifically deals with power structures, enslavement, and the abuse of authority - which might actually be relevant to trafficking networks if you’re looking for thematic parallels.”

Rook stared at him. “You’re offering to give me theater homework?”

“I’m offering to ensure you don’t embarrass yourself.” Julian sealed another container with precise movements. “You want to make a good impression. Ethan works there, so he probably has strong opinions about accurate interpretation.”

“He has strong opinions about everything.” Rook couldn’t keep the fondness out of his voice, which made Cillian’s shadows ripple with amusement again. “He cataloged Brad’s escalation patterns, and from what he mentioned in texts, he maintains detailed observation protocols for theater staff safety. I still can’t get over how he called my intervention tactics counterproductive while explaining exactly why with supporting evidence.”

“He sounds practical,” Thorn said, which from him was high praise.

“He’s someone who pays attention to details, possibly so he can be aware of threats before they happen.” Rook met Thorn’s gaze directly. “If there’s a trafficking network operating in the theater district, he’s exactly the kind of target they’d notice. He’s really smart, and observant, and he probably sees things he’s not supposed to see.”

The kitchen went quiet. Everyone understood what Rook wasn’t saying - that Ethan might already be in danger and didn’t know it. They were also all aware that nineteen days since the last disappearance meant they were in the next incident window, which was probably why Rook’s protective instincts were screaming at him.

“Thursday’s reconnaissance,” Thorn said finally. “You observe, gather intelligence, and identify potential network members. You don’t take any action without coordinating with us first.”

“Understood.” Rook stood, restless energy demanding movement. “What about security for theater staff? If we’re in an incident window…”

“I’ll monitor emergency services and surveillance networks in the meantime,” Silas interrupted. “Any suspicious activity in the district will trigger an immediate alert. We can respond within three minutes from here.”

Three minutes. Rook calculated travel time from the warehouse district to downtown Madison. Three minutes where someone could grab Ethan between the theater and his car. Three minutes where…

“Rook.” Cillian’s voice cut through the spiral. “Your shadows are shredding the chair upholstery.”

Rook looked down. His shadows had wrapped around the chair arms, claws extended, tearing through fabric. He forced them to retract, leaving gouges in the wood underneath. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Act.” Thorn moved back to the tactical map, already marking the theater district with new annotations. “Silas, compile everything on the disappearances - victim profiles, timeline analysis, and venue connections. Julian, research the Garrison Theater’s ownership structure and board membership. Rook, attend your performance Thursday and report back with venue security assessment and potential suspect identification.”

Orders given, plan established - just business as usual at Shadow House. It should’ve calmed Rook’s protective instincts, but it didn’t.

Because Ethan was out there somewhere in town right now, probably cataloging tonight’s incident in whatever detailed observation system he maintained. He was probably thinking he had the situation handled with his training, protocols, and professional boundaries. He was almost definitely completely unaware that twelve people had vanished doing similar work to his in the exact same district over the past six months.

“I’m texting him,” Rook decided, pulling out his phone. “Just to confirm Thursday.”

“You texted him forty minutes ago,” Julian pointed out. “According to your screen.”

“I’m texting him again.” Rook opened the conversation, staring at Ethan’s last message: The buckles are fine. They’re distinctive and make you easy to track in crowds.

Easy to track. Like Ethan observed everyone that carefully and cataloged everyone’s distinctive features for his safety protocols, which was both smart and practical. It was also absolutely the kind of behavior that would make him a perfect witness if something went wrong at his venue.