Chapter 3
Caelan
It feels like tiny bugs are crawling all over my skin.
Being an Alpha means advantage, and being an Alpha vampire is the biggest advantage of all.
Strength, speed, sharper senses than any human male alive and most wolven, too. Except tonight, my instincts are shot. Completely fucking shot.
I nearly step on a branch—right here in plain sight—as I make my way through the forest surrounding the Varenthrall Estate, because I can’t focus for shit.
Thank the gods I’m on recon alone. Gav knows I work better solo, so I knew I wouldn’t get any pushback when I volunteered.
Besides, the probability of running into danger is almost non-existent. It’s a clean recon. In and out.
I lean against an old ash tree at the edge of the property, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. My mind and body aren’t aligning, and that’s a problem.
I’m not here to get caught. I’m here to get information.
I double-check the daggers at my hips and the gun strapped to my thigh, then push off the tree with a booted foot.
Vae gives me shit about suiting up with so many blades, but I’ve always preferred steel to lead.
There’s a kind of honesty to a blade. Killing is personal, and stopping a man’s heart is about as personal as you can get.
Dax is silent in my ear comm, but I can hear his steady breaths.
Every now and then, I hear him roll his chair across the floor or pull something up on a computer.
As usual, though, he’s content to wait for me to initiate conversation when I’m in the field.
He doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence.
Not like some of our team, who love to hear the sound of their own voice anytime a patrol doesn’t require absolute stealth.
I went on a single mission with Silas fifteen years ago and told Gav it was my last. It’s the only demand I’ve ever made of him. The kid never shuts up. I swear he mainlines caffeine directly into his bloodstream.
A single security guard is patrolling the perimeter of the estate, and he’s old and fat.
And human.
Alexander arrived twenty minutes ago. I watched from deep in the woods as he exited his sleek black vehicle, sauntered up to the door, and walked in like he owned the place.
He didn’t knock. Didn’t wait to be let in.
That, more than anything, tells me exactly how close he and Varenthrall are.
Despite the lack of security, the estate contains quite a few other members of staff. I clock housekeepers walking past windows, a light on in the kitchen where a chef is preparing dinner, and the grounds are meticulously curated.
There’s a real-life fucking hedge maze on the East side of the property.
Fucking rich people.
I’ve been scouring the perimeter for the better part of an hour. The west wing is the most active—lights flickering on and off, doors opening and closing. According to Dax, it’s where Varenthrall spends the majority of his time, in his study, smoking room, or bedroom.
I’m debating how to continue my approach when something catches my eye. Motion sensors spin on the edge of the property, alerting me to something that, even with my enhanced eyesight, would have otherwise blended in with the night and the trees.
There are three—
No.
I count again, keeping track of each blinking light. Four sensors surrounding what looks to be a pool house.
Interesting. Why does he have more security on a pool house than his own home?
I make my way across the yard, keeping to the shadows and moving silently. Once I’m close enough to verify, I comm Dax.
“Found something.”
“What?”
“There’s a separate building at the back of the property that butts up against the treeline behind Varenthrall’s wing. It looks like an unused pool house, but it’s teaming with technical security. Motion sensors, alarms, and cameras at the entrance.”
I work my way around the structure, careful not to get too close. “There are no windows, and it’s pure brick. Security looks newly installed as well.”
He hums, and I can hear his fingers flying over his keyboard. After a few seconds, the typing stops.
“Mounts look new?”
“No weathering,” I confirm.
“Can you get closer?” There’s a hint of excitement in his voice, but I know I’m going to have to squash it before it has a chance to grow roots. I’m already moving, testing the perimeter.
I won’t be able to get closer without alerting Varenthrall.
“Negative, I’ll have to return once you can disable the tech.”
Dax sighs in disappointment. I try not to smirk. The sound is eerily reminiscent of a toddler’s response to being told he can’t have ice cream before bed.
“Acknowledged. I’ll do some more investigating, then we’ll return.”
I frown.
There isn’t much more he can do from HQ.
His drones already came back with weird readings, and he had to deploy an upgraded model to rerun the scans on the estate.
Apparently, those readings were slightly glitchy, too.
I don’t know the specifics, only that he was debating green-lighting the recon at all and made me swear to pull out at the first sign of trouble.
“The wards here—”
“I know,” he cuts me off sharply. “The tech is all fucked up thanks to those wards. The footage didn’t show another building. We’ll figure something out.”
It isn’t uncommon for humans to pay one of the few vampires who can do blood magic to install wards around their property, but something about these has Daxen rattled. I let him stew in his irritation as I circle the property.
East.
Again.
I’ve been pulled in this direction too often tonight, and it’s starting to make me twitchy. The itching under my skin is getting worse.
This side of the estate is barely used, according to Dax’s research. Still, my gut is telling me to check it out, and I never ignore my gut.
Despite reports that this wing of the estate seems to have very little movement, the moment I slink into the shadows of the hedge maze, a light flickers on in a room directly above the gardens.
My eyes are drawn to a balcony with ornate French doors. They’re shut now, but there’s something off…
No curtains.
That’s… strange. Most people have curtains in their bedrooms, don’t they? For privacy, if nothing else.
I advance closer to get a better angle, and notice the outline of a figure moving at the back of the room.
I can tell right away it isn’t Varenthrall, and it isn’t staff. There are no deliberate, quick movements as I saw from the housekeepers.
Whoever it is, they’re too small to be an Alpha, and it definitely isn’t Alexander. That asshole is broad-shouldered and carries himself with all the confidence of a man who thinks he owns whatever room he’s in.
This person’s movements are small. Almost hesitant.
The instincts I’ve been doing my best to ignore flare to life.
“Dax.”
“Copy.”
“Who else lives here besides Varenthrall?” I crouch down and advance through the shadows, searching for a better view of the window.
“Staff,” he replies. “His wife is dead, like I said last night. He has a daughter, but…” He trails off, and I hear him flipping through a stack of papers. “I’m not seeing anything that leads me to believe she still lives at home.”
“There’s a chance she does, though?” I’m moving before he can answer, creeping closer to the house.
“Doubtful. If she were, I’d have come across records leading back to her.” He exhales a long-suffering sigh that ends in a growl of irritation. “You just had to ask me the one question I have no fucking answer to.”
He complains, but I already hear the sound of his fingers clicking away as he starts his search.
I can just picture him, hunched over his monitors, grey eyes narrowed, black hair a shaggy mess from scrubbing his hands through it after spending all night and day on preliminary surveillance. He’s probably hacking into everything from her pediatrician’s files to her report cards from High School.
I duck behind a large bush to the right of the hedge maze and hiss when a thorn catches on my sleeve, piercing my forearm.
I ignore it. The pain’s more of an annoyance than anything.
The figure has moved and is speaking to someone at the door now.
It’s definitely a girl. She’s small, almost delicate.
I creep along the edge of the maze. Long minutes of silence fill the darkening night before Dax grunts.
“What?”
“There’s not much here.”
I don’t like the edge in his voice.
“I found a birth certificate and some pediatrician visits. There’s registration up to middle school, but then it all stops.”
I hesitate, checking the perimeter before crossing the few meters separating the garden and the mansion. I keep my gaze trained on the female, even as I flatten myself against the stone wall and out of sight.
“She’s twenty-two,” Dax mutters, sounding irritated. “Where’s her online footprint? No photos, no TikTok’s lip syncing to Taylor Swift, no Spotify full of sad-girl playlists.”
I pull at my hood to be sure every inch of skin is covered, and shift to the left to get a better view of the room.
Much to my irritation, she’s already moved, no longer in my line of sight. Without thinking, I step out of the shadows, desperate to get eyes on her again.
Cursing, I force my muscles to freeze mid-step.
What the hell am I doing? I nearly just exposed my location for a glimpse of some random female.
What. The. Fuck.
Dax, totally oblivious to my near-blunder, keeps talking.
“There’s no Facebook account. No Reddit. No Instagram.”
He lists each missing social media account as though its absence is a mortal sin against the tech gods. I can hear a pen tapping furiously against the desk. He’s agitated. His huff of annoyance confirms it.
So like any good packmate, I poke the bear.
“Gods, Dax. Tell me you haven’t met a twenty-year-old girl in the last half-century without telling me you haven’t met a twenty-year-old girl in the last half-century.”
A blinking motion sensor catches my eye seconds before I move.
It’s attached to the corner of a chipped bird bath near the entrance of the gardens.
Gods, what is wrong with me?