Chapter 13 Cassidy #2
“I approve broad rotations,” Ciaran replies. “Gideon handles fine adjustments when the council is reviewing resource distribution.”
His voice is steady, but his jaw tightens slightly.
I slide another page forward. “The repeated adjustments all fall within the same corridor. Weak border zones near the ravine system.”
Ciaran nods once, then reaches for a separate folder and opens it. Inside are council member profiles, brief summaries of responsibilities and assignments. He flips to Gideon’s page and taps a line with his finger.
“He oversees coordination with outer boundary logistics,” Ciaran says. “He reviews reports on patrol fatigue and reassignments.”
“And he has the authority to justify route changes,” I add.
“Yes,” Ciaran replies.
He straightens slowly, folding his arms as he studies the charts again. The tension in the room shifts, subtle but sharp, like we have stepped closer to a cliff edge without realizing it.
“I cannot accuse him without proof,” Ciaran says.
“I am not asking you to,” I reply. “I am asking you to consider access and motive.”
His gaze returns to mine, assessing.
“You think he is the rogue,” Ciaran says.
“I think he is connected,” I answer carefully. “Either directly or through someone who answers to him.”
Ciaran’s expression remains controlled, but something hard flickers beneath it. He moves the patrol chart aside and pulls out another map, this one marked with old logging roads and hunter access points.
“Look,” he says.
I step closer and look over his shoulder.
He traces a line along the eastern ridge, then down toward the ravine cut. “These access roads were reopened when civilians began sweeping,” he explains. “Hunters prefer these trails because they can park close and walk in.”
I study the map, then overlay it mentally with my corridor pattern.
The alignment is almost too clean.
“The rogue’s escape route intersects these access roads,” I say.
Ciaran nods. “Yes.”
I lean closer, following the line with my finger. “If he uses these roads, he can move between zones faster than a standard patrol.”
“And blend into civilian activity,” Ciaran adds.
“He could watch patrol shifts from human cover,” I say. “Or coordinate timing with hunter presence.”
Ciaran’s mouth tightens. “That would require precision.”
“Everything about him is precise,” I reply.
We stand in silence for a moment, the maps spread out like pieces of a puzzle that refuse to stay separate. The estate feels quieter in this wing, but the quiet is deceptive. Voices echo faintly from the main hall, and footsteps pass by the door without stopping.
I tap the map lightly. “We need to move the cameras.”
Ciaran’s eyes lift sharply. “Where.”
“To these access roads,” I say. “Especially now that civilians are actively using them.”
His expression shifts to something more guarded. “Those areas are volatile.”
“That is the point,” I reply. “If the rogue uses them, we narrow in on who is moving through them and when.”
Ciaran steps back from the desk and folds his arms. “It will expose you.”
“I will not be alone,” I say.
“You will still be visible,” he counters. “Hunters are not careful. Wolves are not careful, and Alden won’t like this.”
The mention of his name does something unhelpful to my pulse.
“He does not have to like it,” I say. “He just has to understand the necessity.”
Ciaran studies me longer this time, searching for something behind my words. “He is protective,” he says carefully.
“He is overprotective,” I reply.
The correction slips out faster than I intend.
I gather the maps and shift them closer together, drawing a rough line from the ravine system to the reopened access roads. The overlap is clear enough that even someone resistant to the idea would struggle to ignore it.
“Predators escalate when cornered,” I continue. “This one is escalating fast.”
Ciaran’s jaw tightens slightly.
“He carved an Alpha Challenge mark,” I add. “He attacked livestock, a ranch dog, and now a patrol wolf. Each move increases tension.”
Ciaran looks toward the window briefly, then back to me. “You believe he is accelerating toward something.”
“Yes,” I reply. “Toward open conflict.”
He remains quiet.
I push further because hesitation feels dangerous. “If civilians and wolves collide in the same corridor, we lose control of the narrative. Hunters shoot wolves. Wolves retaliate. Someone dies publicly.”
Ciaran’s gaze hardens. “And the council fractures.”
“And the Alpha Challenge becomes easier to exploit,” I say.
The words hang there, uncomfortably precise.
Ciaran steps closer to the desk again and presses his palm flat against the map. “You understand what you are suggesting.”
“Yes,” I reply.
“You are asking to put yourself in harm’s way, indirectly,” he says.
“I am asking to monitor it,” I correct.
His eyes narrow. “Monitoring does not shield you from crossfire.”
I let out a slow breath, steadying myself. “You warned me before about walking into blind choke points. This is not blind.”
Ciaran’s lips twitch faintly at the memory.
“This rogue wants a reaction,” I continue. “He wants panic. He wants both sides armed and angry. If we move cameras to the access roads. We capture who uses them during patrol gaps. We track timing against the manipulated shifts.”
“And if the rogue is bold enough to use them personally,” Ciaran says, “we get proof.”
“Exactly,” I reply.
Respect flickers across his face, but it’s reluctant. “You realize this will confirm whether a council member is involved.”
“I do,” I say.
Ciaran studies my face for a long moment, searching for doubt or fear. I feel both, but I do not let them show. What I feel more strongly is urgency, sharp and relentless.
“This predator is escalating,” I say quietly. “Every kill is louder than the last. He is not hunting for survival. He is hunting for reaction.”
My fingers curl slightly around the wooden desk edge
“And if we do not anticipate the next escalation,” I finish, “he will create something none of us can control.”