Chapter 13 （continued）
Conrí
Do you really need to drown yourself in that stuff?
I ignored Kael and dabbed on a little more cologne.
He’d been making random appearances all morning—surfacing briefly, then vanishing just as quickly, like he was circling something he hadn’t decided to name yet.
Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? I asked, smoothing my hair in the mirror.
Nothing.
I studied my reflection while I waited for an answer that wasn’t coming.
The suit was right. The hair was right. I was, objectively, the definition of male grooming done properly—not vanity, just maintenance.
Everything I put into staying in top form wasn’t purely for my own benefit.
It was all for her, whoever she was. Wherever she was taking her time being.
I don’t know why, but I felt the need to make an effort today. More than usual.
Kael grunted.
And that was the end of that conversation.
I tilted my head left, then right, checking the symmetry. The touch of stubble was exactly right—enough to suggest I had better things to do than be perfect, while still being essentially perfect. Almost an edge over the ugly one.
I considered, briefly, swinging by Dáire Financial Services after the meeting. Cuán would want a personal update on his project eventually. And his secretary was very easy to talk to.
Kael growled.
The sound gathered somewhere deep in my chest before it reached my throat—low, long, and genuinely threatening in a way that had nothing to do with my intentions toward anyone’s secretary.
I stood very still for a moment.
What is wrong with you today?
Silence.
I considered calling my parents. Kael hadn’t behaved like this in years. Not without reason.
I straightened my jacket and headed for the door.
??
??
??
It wasn’t until I was in the car that I messaged the pack enforcers.
London was doing what London did in the early morning—grey and relentless, the sky the colour of old concrete, rain threatening without committing.
The driver pulled out into the flow of traffic while I typed into the group chat, asking if anyone had encountered strays or other entities on their recent runs.
Kael was picking up on something. That was enough reason to ask the question.
The city slid past the window. Glass and steel and the density of a place that never quite emptied, never quite slept—just shifted registers between day and night.
We’d gone from centuries of rural living to this.
Centuries of open land, of running without consequence, of knowing exactly what was yours by scent and territory and the absence of surveillance cameras on every corner.
The modern world had its advantages. It had also required significant adaptation.
Cuán and I had pooled our resources early—purchased a block of apartments in what was then a newly developed stretch of Canary Wharf, back when the investment required nerve rather than just capital.
It had skyrocketed since. All of our tenants were pack members.
We kept the two penthouses. Territory, just expressed differently than it once had been.
My phone vibrated in my hand.
Cuán: What’s this about a potential threat?
I hadn’t forgotten Cuán was in the security group chat—I’d just hoped he’d ignore it.
I watched a cyclist narrowly avoid a black cab outside the window and composed my response.
Me: Good morning, brother. Why yes, I am well. Thank you for enquiring after my health.
Cuán: You remind me of the Queen of England.
I glanced up. We were passing the Dáire Financial building. His car was already in its space in the underground. Another late start, then.
Me: I saw your car. Another late start?
Cuán: It’s all about working smarter, not harder.
Lazy shithead.
He made me smile, which was irritating until I pictured him as a court jester.
The insult also, immediately and unhelpfully, made me think of the situation at my office.
The UKHSA officers. The carpet and toilet situation that may have spread from my company’s kitchen area.
The things that could never, under any circumstances, reach Cuán’s ears.
He would never let me live it down. Not once. Not ever. I would take it to my grave, which given my biology was a considerable amount of time to be hearing about it.
I needed to wrap this up.
Me: There is no threat. Kael has just been a little off.
Cuán: I don’t blame him. Imagine being stuck with you 24/7.
I stared at that for a moment.
Me: Don’t be bitter because you ended up being the ugly one.
I put the phone down.
Picked it up again immediately.
I should have resisted. Now he knew he’d gotten to me. Thirty-six years and I still hadn’t learned to let him have the last word in silence rather than proving he’d landed something.
The car turned toward Kilcullen Tech.
Kael had gone quiet again.
Watching. Waiting. Silently brooding.
I wondered if wolves could suffer from depression.