4. Ronan
Ronan
Genevieve’s report lies open across the safehouse table.
In four days, she proved that someone used stolen hospital credentials to identify injured wolves, compare their medical condition with patrol information, and choose when Marcus would be vulnerable.
She did not invent a name for the person behind it.
That makes me trust the report more.
Dara closes the evidence box beside her. The Dock 17 recording, silver-coated knives, blood samples, preserved research exports, and hospital audit logs have been sealed and copied.
“Chain of custody begins now,” she says.
“I understand.”
“You want a name.”
“I want a throat.”
“That is why Genevieve wrote the report instead of you.”
I look at her.
“The wrong accusation gives the real enemy time to disappear,” Dara says. “She removed every conclusion she could not prove.”
Genevieve said almost the same thing.
Precise. Uncompromising. Right.
My gaze returns to Marcus’s latest chart. Six minutes after the hospital documented his reduced mobility and persistent silver toxicity, someone opened the record with a stolen credential. Hours later, two men waited for him at Dock 17.
I knew the hospital might be compromised before Genevieve entered that alley.
I did not know enough.
That does not make the failure smaller.
“You need to tell her,” Dara says.
“She knows the hospital was breached.”
“She does not know you suspected it earlier.”
“I had a warning, not proof.”
“You had enough to change patrols and warn the wolves whose charts were exposed.”
The words land where she intends.
Dara taps a second page.
“The patient Genevieve spoke to was Mara Cole.”
I know the name. A Black Harbor wolf who used a human alias while recovering from a warehouse injury.
“She gave Genevieve Marcus’s patrol time because she believed a hospital researcher was trying to help him,” Dara continues. “Mara did not know her own chart had been accessed. She is safe, and she gave us a statement.”
The woman at the hospital was not bait.
Genevieve still reached Dock 17 because one of my wolves trusted the wrong system.
“She should never have been there,” I say.
“No,” Dara answers. “But she was.”
The wolf remembers Genevieve beneath the broken light, a silver blade moving toward her. It remembers that I nearly failed to reach her and that the escaped attacker saw her face.
The radio at Dara’s hip crackles.
“Eastern perimeter to command.”
Dara answers. “Command.”
“Three wolves in human form near the old freight office. Faces covered. Colors close to Vanguard’s. Scent may be masked.”
My wolf rises.
Vanguard.
Alpha Silas Van has pressed at Black Harbor’s eastern boundary since my father died, always through contracts and offers that would cost us more than they gave. He has never crossed openly.
“Have they crossed the boundary?”
“No.”
“Threatened anyone?”
“No.”
“Record them. No engagement unless they cross.”
Dara studies me for half a second before transmitting the order.
“You are learning,” she says.
“I have always known restraint.”
“No. You have known control. This is different.”
The safehouse alarm begins before I can answer.
Low and steady.
Lockdown.
Steel bolts slide into reinforced frames while wolves move to assigned positions. Outside, traffic continues and a train crosses the distant bridge. No human knows three unidentified wolves are watching a hidden shifter safehouse.
Genevieve enters carrying her laptop, her hair twisted into a loose knot and her glasses slightly crooked.
“Three wolves are near the eastern boundary,” I tell her. “They are displaying colors close to Vanguard’s, but we have not confirmed them, and their scents may be masked.”
“Have they crossed?”
“No.”
“Then the colors may be bait.”
Dara nods. “The cameras are recording the boundary.”
“Good. Preserve the originals.”
Genevieve looks at me.
“I ordered no engagement.”
Approval touches her expression.
“You listened.”
“I occasionally do.”
“Not often.”
“No.”
The alarm pulses again.
She turns toward her workspace.
“I need the rest of the hospital files.”
“You need the reinforced center of the building.”
“My room is protected.”
“It is on the eastern side.”
“And?”
“Three strangers are watching that side.”
Her chin rises.
“I have work.”
“So bring it.”
“Where?”
“My quarters.”
The words leave before I consider how they will sound.
Dara becomes intensely interested in the evidence box.
Genevieve looks at me slowly.
“Your quarters.”
“They are in the reinforced center of the building. There is a hardwired terminal and access to the internal security network.”
“That is the tactical reason.”
“Yes.”
She waits.
The wolf strains toward her. I hold it still.
“What is the other reason?” she asks.
I should lie.
I do not.
“I want you where I can protect you.”
Her pulse jumps once, then steadies.
“You said the guards outside my room were protecting me.”
“They were.”
“But now they are insufficient.”
“The threat has moved closer.”
“Or you have become more territorial.”
Both.
I do not say it.
Her eyes narrow. She knows anyway.
“Genevieve,” Dara says, rescuing neither of us, “the Alpha’s quarters are the safest location during an eastern lockdown.”
Genevieve glances toward her.
“You are supporting this?”
“I am confirming the tactical facts.”
“And avoiding everything else.”
“Yes.”
At least Dara is honest.
Genevieve looks from her to me, weighing the distance from the boundary, access to the records and security system, the unknown scouts, my presence, and the pull neither of us understands.
“Fine. But I am bringing my laptop, the sealed copies, my notes, and the external drive.”
“Agreed.”
“I continue working.”
“Yes.”
“You do not stand over my shoulder.”
“I make no promises.”
“Then we do not have an agreement.”
“I will not stand over your shoulder.”
“Good.”
She turns toward the hall. I follow.
Dara catches my arm as I pass.
“Tell her,” she says quietly.
I know what she means.
The hospital warning. Six weeks of suspicion. My failure to trust Genevieve with it.
“Not during lockdown.”
“Especially during lockdown.”
I pull away.
Genevieve is already halfway down the corridor. I keep three feet between us, a distance that feels like nothing and everything.
She enters her makeshift laboratory and begins gathering equipment: laptop cord, external drive, reports, notebook, pens, and the camera from Dock 17.
My gaze settles on it.
Genevieve notices.
“I am bringing it.”
“I did not say otherwise.”
“You were thinking something.”
“I often do.”
“That must be exhausting.”
She places the camera carefully inside its case.
“The original recording remains on the memory card.”
“Callum made protected copies.”
“I know.”
“For the Urban Council Authority?”
“If this becomes an Authority case.”
“When does that happen?”
“When we identify a recognized pack or Alpha connected to the attack.”
“You already have evidence of crimes.”
“We have evidence of an ambush. The Authority governs urban wolf society. It does not investigate every human criminal who uses silver.”
“You believe the attackers might have been human.”
“I believe they might have been anything.”
They knew what I was and understood pack rank, but neither shifted during the fight. They could have been humans armed with specialized knowledge or wolves ordered not to reveal themselves.
Genevieve closes the laptop case.
“If an Alpha hired humans to attack another pack, would the Authority have jurisdiction?”
“Yes.”
“And if a human organization acted independently?”
“We handle the shifter evidence ourselves and send whatever we can safely to the police.”
“Without revealing what Marcus is.”
“Yes.”
She considers this.
“Two investigations.”
“Two worlds.”
“One crime.”
“Welcome to urban pack life.”
“That sounded almost like humor.”
“It was not.”
“It was close.”
She reaches for the evidence case. I take it first.
“I can carry that.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because I can also carry it.”
“That is not a reason.”
“It is the reason you gave Petra when you kept pressure on Marcus’s wound.”
Her mouth closes.
I have won one argument.
The wolf is pleased beyond reason.
We leave the room.
Halfway down the hall, Genevieve stops.
“Ronan.”
I turn.
Her expression has changed. Not anger yet. Something more careful.
“You knew.”
The evidence case feels heavier.
“Knew what?”
“That someone was watching hospital records.”
Dara told her enough to make the question inevitable.
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
The alarm pulses through the building.
“Six weeks.”
Her face goes still.
I would rather face the wolves outside.
“You suspected the hospital had been compromised for six weeks, and you did not tell me.”
“I did not know you.”
“You knew I was investigating impossible recovery records.”
“I learned that after Dock 17.”
“You saw my hospital badge.”
“I saw a human carrying evidence of my shift.”
Her fingers tighten around the laptop strap.
“Why did you not tell me after I agreed to stay?”
I could answer with operational security, pack rules, or the danger of trusting a human.
Every reason is true.
None is enough.
“Because I did not trust you.”
The words strike her. I see the slight withdrawal, the door closing behind her eyes.
The wolf snarls at me for causing it.
I force myself to continue.
“And because I was ashamed.”
That stops her.
“What?”
“I saw irregular access six weeks ago. We traced some of it, but not enough. I thought someone was identifying wolves.”
“They were.”
“I thought it was surveillance.”
“It was target selection.”
“Yes.”
The word cuts on the way out.
“Marcus was attacked because I underestimated what the data was being used for.”
Genevieve lowers the laptop bag to the floor. The corridor alarm continues around us, but she barely seems to hear it.
“You blamed yourself.”
“I am Alpha.”
“That is a title, not an answer.”
“It is both.”
“No. It is a title you use when you do not want to say what you feel.”
She waits.
“I should have stopped it.”
“How?”
“I should have found the breach.”
“You did not have the access logs I had.”
“I should have obtained them.”