4. Idris #2
“We also need Kade,” Sloane says, quieter now, more dangerous because the rage has focused.
“He can get into Garrett’s phone, email, whatever routing system he’s using.
Don’t tell me there isn’t one. Calls don’t fail like this by accident.
Messages don’t sound like legal memos by accident.
Kade can get us proof before Garrett buries it. ”
“No,” Zana says.
Sloane’s head snaps up, and I feel my own control strain because this is where I agree with him. Kade could be in Garrett’s digital life before nightfall.
Zana looks at me because she sees agreement on my face.
“Last resort. Not first move. If Kade breaks in now and Garrett can trace it, Garrett gets to say Sloane is unstable, Idris is conspiring, and their outside security contacts are illegally accessing protected communications during a Bellwether placement crisis. Then your proof becomes poisonous. A judge might never look at what you found because of how you found it.”
“Then what the fuck do we do?” Sloane asks, and the words rip out loud enough that Theo’s purr snaps into a frightened, broken vibration.
Sloane recoils like he has struck him. “Fuck. Sorry. Sweetheart, I’m sorry.
” He gathers Theo close, both hands careful on his back, his voice dropping until it is almost a whisper.
“You don’t have to calm me. That’s not your job. I’m sorry.”
Theo’s arms go around him anyway. “I don’t like when the room gets sharp.”
“I know.” Sloane’s eyes lift to mine over Theo’s head, wet and vicious. “I know.”
I look at Zana because if Sloane has to keep swallowing knives, someone needs to name where we are putting them. “What can we do today?”
Zana pulls the first folder toward her. “You give me copies of everything you legally have. Dr. Mercer’s note.
Bellwether placement documents. Pack structure filings.
Screenshots of messages as they appear on your devices.
The welfare concern case number. Names of campus staff you spoke to, but no follow-up by you.
Times Garrett left, returned, spoke, threatened, touched Theo’s placement.
Every statement he made about Callie choosing distance.
Every statement he made about Theo being confused by her. ”
I nod and reach for the scanner app on my phone. “You’ll take them back?”
“I’ll take copies. I’ll review properly from my office, and I’ll make controlled inquiries.
I’ll find out whether anyone entered a restriction or no-contact request, who filed it, what language was used, and whether Callie was served or warned.
I’ll check Bellwether procedure for interrupted heats and head Alpha challenges.
I’ll reach campus through counsel-facing channels and see what they’re willing to confirm.
If they scrutinize the inquiry, we’ll learn from the shape of the scrutiny. ”
Sloane’s hand stills on Theo’s back. “You think they’ll scrutinize you.”
“I think someone may have told them this is a protected situation involving a bonded Alpha who shouldn’t have access.” Zana’s voice stays even, but there is anger under it now, old and disciplined. “If so, I need to find that out without handing them your face and your scent as confirmation.”
The house creaks above us. Theo startles hard enough that his shoulder knocks Sloane’s chin. Sloane catches him without comment this time, pressing a kiss to his hair while his eyes stay on the doorway. “If his only goal was an Omega, why bring Callie in at all?”
Zana looks up from the folder.
“She came with Sloane,” I continue, because the question has been eating through me all morning.
“He accepted them as a package. He was kind to her at first. He made room. He let the house learn her. If he wanted a traditional Omega-centered pack, why bring in a bonded Beta he knew Sloane loved like that? Why let her become central and then punish her for being exactly what we brought her in as?”
Zana’s expression shifts. It isn’t pity. I would not survive pity right now. It is recognition, and that is worse in a different way. “Because a lot of Alphas don’t hear ‘Beta’ and think beloved. They hear support.”
Sloane’s throat works. “Callie isn’t support.”
“No,” Zana says. “She isn’t. But Garrett may have believed she would soothe what needed soothing, organize what needed organizing, and step aside when the Omega arrived.”
Theo’s hand tightens in my shirt. His voice is barely above breath. “That’s awful.”
“Yes,” Zana says. “It is.” Zana’s thumb presses against the folder. “My beta, Reid, was in a pack like that before me. From what you’ve told me, Garrett’s sweetness to Callie lasted as long as she stayed in the role he assigned her. The problem was Theo chose her too.”
Sloane closes his eyes, and the pain that moves across his face is so raw I have to look away. “I told her she was our foundation.”
“I know,” Zana says.
“I said the words.” His voice shakes with fury at himself now. “I said them, and then I let Garrett build every goddamn protocol around a structure where she had to ask permission to believe me.”
Theo looks up at him. “She believed you.”
Sloane cups the back of Theo’s head. “Then why isn’t she answering me?”
Zana reaches for the next document. “Because someone made the cost of answering too high, or the path to answering too broken, or both. That is what we’re going to investigate.
But hear me clearly. You are going to want to interpret every delay as failure.
Garrett wants that. He wants you desperate, loud, reckless, and easy to document.
You can't be that if you want Callie back and Theo safe.”
Sloane laughs under his breath, ruined and shaking. “I’m already desperate.”
“Yes,” Zana says. “So we keep you from becoming useful to him.”
Theo’s purr trembles again, smaller this time. I put my palm against his back and feel how fragile the vibration is, how much of himself he's spending to keep us tethered to the room. My anger becomes colder, more patient, and more willing to wait long enough to make the cut clean.
When the copies are stacked inside Zana’s bag, the house has gone very still. Garrett will come back. That certainty sits in the room like a loaded gun. Zana stands, coat over her arm now, and looks at each of us in turn.
“Until I tell you otherwise, no direct contact with campuses, Bellwether, police, or Callie’s colleagues.
No unauthorized access. No threats to Garrett where he can record them.
Document everything. If Garrett speaks about Theo’s placement, write it down.
If he approaches Theo alone, interrupt and write it down.
If Callie contacts you, preserve it exactly and call me before responding. ”
Sloane’s mouth twists. “And if Garrett tries to take Theo?”
“Then you call me, Dr. Mercer, and emergency services in that order unless there is immediate physical danger.” Zana’s eyes sharpen. “Do not give him the unfit Alpha he's trying to provoke.”
Sloane looks down at Theo, who has fallen into a half-doze against him, fingers still curled in his shirt. His voice is so quiet it hurts more than shouting. “I want to tear him apart.”
“I know,” Zana says.
“I want him to feel every second she’s felt alone.”
“I know.”
Sloane looks up, and the thing in his eyes isn't less violent for being wet. “Tell me this gives us a way to find her.”
Zana’s hand tightens around the strap of her bag.
“It gives us a way to stop making him stronger while we look.” Zana gathers the copied documents into her bag, then pauses with one hand on her phone.
“I’m going to call her once from my number,” she says.
“Legal capacity, neutral language, no pressure. No one else calls her after this unless I tell you to.”
Sloane goes so still Theo’s fingers tighten in his shirt. The room holds its breath through the first ring, then the second, then the third. Hope has time to become cruel before Callie’s voicemail answers, her recorded voice soft and ordinary enough to split Sloane open where he sits.
Zana doesn’t look at him while she leaves the message.
“Calliope Monroe, this is Zana. I’m an attorney reaching out regarding a matter that may involve your pack status and personal safety.
You’re not required to respond, but if you’re safe and willing, please contact me at this number.
I won’t share your location or pressure you into contact with anyone without your consent. ”
She ends the call. Sloane’s hand is over his mouth, his eyes fixed on the phone like Callie might still come through it if he suffers quietly enough. Theo’s broken purr starts again, thin and frightened, and Sloane folds over him with a rough, “Fuck, sweetheart. Sorry. I’m here.”
I walk Zana to the door. When she steps onto the porch, she turns back once. “This isn’t one lie, Idris,” she says. “It’s infrastructure. If you claw at it like animals, he gets to call you animals. Let me find where it was built.”