Chapter 24 #2
I wait. Though I already know what's coming.
"Arden texted me again last night." He says it flat. Factual. "Told me he loves me. That we're going to figure it out."
I don't say anything. There's nothing to say that I haven't already said. He's still leaving and I've stopped trying to talk him out of it.
"He's going to be at the hearing," Jasper says. "I'll see his face when this is over and he'll look at me the way he always looks at me and I'll walk away from it."
"You don't have to."
"Yeah. I do." He looks at the sky. "He and Chase have held to everything they promised. They've waited. They've built something worth having. I won't be the flaw in it."
"Jasper. He already forgave you. Chase knew what might happen in that room and he still asked you to stay. For Vee. Your promise isn’t as important to them as you think."
"I know. That's the worst part. It doesn’t change how I feel." He straightens up. Pulls his hands out of his pockets. Reassembles the composure like putting on a coat. "We should go. Ragon will notice if we're both late."
I want to say something. Something that helps. Something that makes the look on his face less like a man who has already decided he doesn't deserve what's waiting for him on the other side of this.
But I don't have it. Because I'm carrying my own version of the same weight.
Vee used to fall asleep on my shoulder while I read.
She'd bring me tea without asking if I wanted it.
She'd sit in the chair by my window on bad nights and just be there, not talking, not needing anything, just present.
And I let that girl fade into the walls of a house that should have been her home.
I don't get to hold her again. I know that. She's going to end up with Alex's pack and they're going to take care of her the way we should have and I'm going to watch from the outside. That's the right outcome. She deserves them.
But knowing it's right doesn't make it hurt less.
"Eli." Jasper's voice pulls me back. "You're compartmentalizing again."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You have the face you get when you're putting something in a box so you don't have to feel it."
"That's literally what compartmentalizing is."
"I know. I'm telling you I see it."
I almost smile. "You care too much. It shows in your face. I can compartmentalize. That's the difference."
He looks at me for a long moment. "That's not a compliment."
"No," I agree. "It's not."
***
Then Friday happens.
I come home from a twelve-hour shift and the house is empty. Jasper's car is in the driveway but Ragon's isn't.
I find Jasper in the kitchen with his phone pressed to his ear, his face drained of color.
"What?" I ask.
He holds up a hand. Listens. Then: "Okay. Yeah. I understand." He hangs up.
"Ragon went to see Arden," he says.
My stomach goes cold.
"At the OPA office. He walked in without an appointment and demanded to know where Vee is. Told Arden he knew Arden had been treating Vee and that she wouldn't have disappeared without professional help. Said Arden had a duty to tell him where his omega was."
"What did Arden do?"
"What Arden always does. Stood his ground. Told Ragon he couldn't discuss his clients and that Ragon's custody didn't entitle him to information about Vee's whereabouts. Apparently Ragon's scent was spiking so hard the receptionist almost called security."
"But Arden handled it."
"Arden handled it." Jasper's face is tight. "But Ragon didn't leave. He went to his car and sat in the parking lot. He's been there for two hours."
The implication hits me immediately.
"He's going to follow Arden home."
"That's what Chase thinks. And if Ragon follows Arden home, he finds out where Arden lives. If he finds out where Arden lives, he could find out Chase is connected. One conversation with a neighbor, one look at the cars in the driveway, one glimpse of Chase coming or going—"
"The whole thing unravels."
"The whole thing unravels. They’ll have to move Vee again."
I close my eyes.
Then I open them and do what I've been doing for weeks. I think.
"I'll call him," I say. "Tell him I'm worried about him. That I think he needs to come home because I'm concerned about his mental state. Play the concerned pack brother." I reach for my phone. "He still trusts me."
That last sentence tastes like ash.
Jasper watches me dial.
Ragon picks up on the third ring. "Eli."
"Hey." I keep my voice soft. It's not entirely a performance—I am worried, just not about what he thinks I'm worried about. "Where are you? It's late."
"I'm outside Arden's office. He knows where she is, Eli. I can feel it. He knows and he's not telling me."
"Ragon." I let my voice crack slightly. Just enough. "Can you come home? I've been alone here all day and the house feels... it feels empty. I know that sounds stupid but I don't want to be here by myself tonight."
Silence on the other end.
"Please," I say.
Because I know him. I know that underneath the obsessive searching and the late-night records diving and the feral determination, there's a man who lost most of his pack and is terrified of losing the last person in it.
I know that asking him to come home—framing it as me needing him—is the one thing that will override every other impulse.
I know it because I've been studying people my entire career.
And I hate that I'm using it on someone I love.
"I'm coming," he says. "Give me twenty minutes."
I hang up and look at Jasper.
"Text Chase," I say. "Tell Arden not to leave his office until we confirm Ragon is on his way home. And tell Arden to vary his route for the next few weeks. Different roads, different times. Ragon is methodical. If he comes back and tries again, he'll note patterns."
Jasper is already typing.
I sit at the kitchen table and wait for the man I'm betraying to come home because I asked him to.
When Ragon walks through the door forty minutes later, he looks wrecked. He drops his keys on the counter and looks at me.
"Arden knows," he says. "I could see it in his face. He knows where she is and he won't tell me."
"Sit down," I say. "You need to eat."
"Eli, I'm close. I can feel it. If I'd waited longer outside his office—"
"Sit down."
He sits because I asked. Because the house is empty and I'm the only one left and he needs someone to tell him what to do even if he'd never admit it.
He doesn’t understand why Jasper stays. It’s obvious to him that he isn’t going to bond in anymore but I think he believes Jasper doesn’t have anywhere else to go. We let him think that.
I make him a plate. Sit across from him and watch him eat.
He talks while he chews. About Arden's face when he walked in and the receptionist reaching for the phone. About sitting in the parking lot watching the door, convinced that if he waited long enough Arden would lead him somewhere.
I listen, nod in the right places, let him feel heard.
After dinner, while he's in the shower, I text Jasper: He's home. He's fixated on Arden. Tell Chase to warn Arden he'll probably try again.
Then I stand in the kitchen alone and I think about Vee. About a girl who used to bring me romance novels and fall asleep against my shoulder. About the tea I stopped making, the care I stopped providing and every moment I chose the path of least resistance while she disappeared inch by inch.
This is what making it right looks like.
It doesn't feel righteous or noble or clean. It feels like lying to a man I love like a brother to protect a woman I love and failed. It feels like using my training—the empathy, the observation, the understanding of human weakness—as a tool of manipulation against someone who trusts me.
It feels terrible.
And I'd do it again tomorrow.
I wash the dishes. I turn off the lights, go to my room and close the door. Then I sit on the edge of my bed in the dark and wait for the next close call.
There will be another one. There always is.