43. CHAPTER 43 #2
My father shot a look at him. “Well, first off, I could have done it, without you knowing, making it truly violating. Secondly, we will do it momentarily. Lastly, anything I may or may not see will not be shared with anyone who doesn’t need to know, unless you, of course, are murdering cadets for fun.
After I make sure everyone in this room is honorable, I will discuss the next steps. ”
I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes down to the table so my father wouldn’t see the panic rising in me. My cheeks still burned from Zane’s earlier comment, and the weight of my father’s pale gaze remained..
At the front of the room, Brigadier General Scullin shifted impatiently in his seat. “Then let’s get on with it. The longer we sit here debating, the longer the killer remains at large. If the General has the means to find the truth, I say we let him.”
Professor Melamora’s jaw tightened, her voice like polished steel. “You speak as if memories are infallible. They are not. They warp. They twist. They can be weaponized and misinterpreted. Reading them is no less dangerous than ignoring them.”
Pascal added, quieter, “And yet here we are.” His gaze cut toward me for just a fraction of a second, sharp and knowing. “We’ll see if the General is as precise as he claims.”
My father’s voice cut through the room again, unyielding. “Precise enough.” He scanned the table once more, then he leaned back against the table with the poise of a male who already owned the truth. “Does anyone have anything to share before we begin?”
Everyone was silent, lips pursed, staring at him. It’s not like we can argue with him. He was the General of the military after all.
Every muscle in my body wanted to bolt, but Zane’s hand slid across beneath the table, his fingers brushing mine, a grounding weight against the chaos .
“Stay steady,” he whispered in my head. “No walls crack unless we let them.”
“You don’t know my dad. He is powerful.” And if he pulled too hard—if he pushed too deep—every secret I carried could unravel.
Chairs scraped as everyone shifted, stiff with dread, but no one left. My father made it clear that this wasn’t optional. One by one, he moved around the U-shaped table.
He didn’t rely on theatrics. He simply stepped behind a cadet, placed his hand on the crown of their head or along their temple, and closed his eyes.
The room held its breath, waiting. The cadet flinched, stiffened, sometimes gasped—but never for long.
After a minute or two, my father moved on, his face unreadable and his voice sharp. “Next.”
Each time, he found nothing—no killer, no confession, no guilt. Yet fear kept growing.
By the fourth cadet, sweat beaded on foreheads, knuckles whitened against the table. The brigadier generals who demanded these interrogations sat with uneasy expressions, as if witnessing the process felt far more invasive than they expected.
When he reached Zane, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from trembling.
My father’s hand settled against the side of his head, his pale eyes shutting as the silence grew heavy. Zane’s bond presence flared immediately, sharp and molten, wrapping tight around mine like a shield.
“Stone walls,” he whispered through the bond. “He won’t take more than I give him.”
I felt the pressure immediately—a tug in the bond, like a current trying to pull me under. My chest tightened as panic clawed at me. Zane put up a block, which also shut me out. It felt strange to sense him tugging at me through Zane.
The pressure shifted. It stayed but redirected and forced through paths I couldn’t quite trace. Zane held it steady, offering him something but not everything .
My father lingered longer than he did with anyone else. Abruptly, he lifted his hand. He stayed silent, making a sharp, unreadable expression as his mouth tightened for a moment before he turned to me.
My heart nearly stopped.
When he pressed his palm to my head, the world narrowed. The cold weight of him pushed inside, searching and peeling back layers of thought like pages torn from a book.
I built every wall I could. I pushed everything down—Zane, the letters, the shimmer twisting in my chest, the mutiny. I tried to think of Esme’s wingbeats, saddle straps, chalk lines on leather—anything else, anything ordinary.
He overpowered me. I felt him brush deeper, pressing harder.
Zane was there in the bond, anchoring me, steady as stone. “Focus on me. Just me. Nothing else.”
I clung to him and pushed every thought toward his voice, his presence, his hand brushing mine under the table.
My father slowed and faltered as he probed—redirected.
He lingered longer with me, his jaw tightening, his expression flickering the same way it did with Zane. Then, finally, he lifted his hand.
Silence followed.
He gave no accusation or declaration of guilt.
He only flashed that sharp expression—a twitch of his mouth, a narrowing of his eyes—as if he brushed against something he couldn’t quite identify.
“Next,” he said.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I held, my hands shaking in my lap.
“We blocked it out, he didn’t see it...”
“We think we did,” Zane said, his own steadiness carrying a darker edge now. “But he knows we’re hiding something. That’s why he made that face.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse still thundering in my ears.
He hadn’t found the murderer, but he found enough.
When my father circled back to the front of the room, silence felt thick enough to choke on. He folded his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable as stone.
“You all passed,” he said at last, his voice echoing across the chamber.
Every one let out a collective exhale, tension breaking in uneven gasps.
One of the brigadier generals from the Healer branch, I guessed, leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “You claimed you could take memories without detection. Yet everyone here felt it. Why?”
My father’s mouth twitched faintly without a smile. “I wanted you to know I was digging. All of you threw up shields—as I expected. That forced me to break through. When I pressed hard enough, people felt the intrusion. I meant for the discomfort to happen.”
Scullin grunted, leaning back in his chair. “Well, congratulations, General. You’ve put the fear of gods into all of us in one sitting.”
“That’s the point.” My father’s reply came flat, his gaze steady and cold.
Another general—Infantry branch, this time—snorted under his breath. “Gods, imagine what a hug from you feels like. No wonder your generals walk straighter than fence posts.”
A ripple of low laughter skittered around the table, sharp-edged and uneasy.
He didn’t twitch. “Which brings me to our next step. This leadership group will serve as a filter when the rest of the cadets return from winter break. They will not know it is happening. But I will touch each one of them—preferably when welcoming them back. A hand to the shoulder, a handshake, a hug. Enough contact to see what I need.” His pale eyes swept across us.
“If there is rot, it will be cut out before it spreads.”
My stomach twisted. I flicked a glance at Alex and Lili across the table—both stiff, both pale, their gazes locked on my father as if they didn’t dare blink.
They stared at a stranger, not someone who had been like their uncle for most of their lives.
They knew what this meant, too. We all became his net, whether we wanted to or not .
“Before that,” he continued, his voice carrying an edge of finality, “I will speak with the first-year Riders in the courtyard. Briefly. I will be eliminating them before they leave. That will happen shortly.”
The air thinned, and every Rider cadet glanced at one another. My pulse hammered against my ribs.
My father straightened, his gaze sweeping the room. “Dismissed.”
Chairs scraped back in a rush as cadets and officers moved with speed toward the doors, none lingering.
“Except Cadet Blackcreek and Cadet Braegon,” he added, his voice like a blade through the din. His eyes fixed on us—Zane and me. “Stay behind.”
My stomach dropped. Lili shot me a knowing glance—the one I knew too well, when he dismissed her to scold me. The last chairs scraped back, the final cadets filed out, and the heavy doors thudded shut, sealing Zane and me inside with my father.
He leaned back in his chair, studying us in silence. Then, to my shock, his expression shifted slightly—softer.
“Congratulations,” he said, his voice low and steady. “On the bond. On the mate. I’m… glad you finally know, Auri. That you found him.”
Heat climbed my neck. My pulse jumped, my cheeks betraying me before I could compose myself.
Zane’s hand brushed mine beneath the table, steady.
But my father wasn’t finished. His pale green eyes narrowed, glinting like ice.
“You’re hiding something else. At the end of the day, I don’t care—not right now.
What I do know is that neither of you is the killer.
Not intentional killers, at least.” His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than comfort allows, then slid to Zane.
The stare that followed could split stone. It stayed cold, unrelenting, as if he were weighing Zane’s soul piece by piece.
“You.” His voice dropped lower, edged in steel. “You dare to throw that filth into my head—an image of my daughter, my daughter —” His jaw tightened, and his eyes cut to me, catching the way my face burned hot again.
“Fuck,” I said .
Zane, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He met that gaze head-on. “You went digging where you weren’t wanted,” he said. “I defended myself. I defended her. I won’t apologize for that.”
The silence that followed was enough to shatter glass.
My dad stared at him. “You are free to go, Cadet Braegon, or should I say the Marquess of the Veil of Vultures.”
Zane stared back. Shock rippled through our bond, but his face stayed iron, steady against that cold stare. “Respectfully, I am not fucking leaving, sir.”