Chapter Five #2
I let that settle. The city below was doing its usual Thursday morning impression of controlled chaos, but up here the world had shrunk to three people, a baby, and the single question pulsing in my head.
“Why her?” I said. “What makes her worth two dead and a chase through city traffic?”
That stopped him. For the first time since I’d met him, Wolfe looked human. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He said, “I don’t know.”
It landed like a fist. I could tell it cost him—a guy who’d built a life on always having the answer, who kept a city’s worth of people in check by knowing every variable before it came up, and now he was admitting the one thing a wolf never admits.
I wanted to push.
I didn’t.
Instead, I filed it away and did my own inventory. If the meeting request was intercepted before it reached him, the breach wasn’t external. It was internal. Which meant Grace wasn’t just a wanted baby—she was bait, a variable someone had already plugged into the equation and set to detonate.
The lollipop stuck to the inside of my molars. I kept my face blank, held the kid a little tighter, and tried not to think about the number of ways this could go wrong.
Braham put his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the far wall. “We’re moving a team to Ridgeline. They’ll sweep for loose ends.”
I said, “Don’t bother with the front door. They’ll be waiting.”
He glanced at me, and I saw the moment he re-ran the plan with that new piece of data. “Noted,” he said.
We didn’t talk after that. Not for a while.
I watched the way his shoulders dropped, a half-inch maybe, like something had finally reached under the armor. I knew the feeling. I’d worn that weight before, in other cities, with other lost causes.
The baby stirred in my arms, yawned, and went limp again. I held her until I could feel my own pulse drop back below panic. I did not, for a single second, trust anyone in this building. But I was willing to admit: there were worse places to be.
The next bit was almost a relief: direct orders. I’d been halfway through assembling a bottle—who knew babies could smell formula from across the room—when Braham came over, leaned in, and said, “You’ll stay here.”
Not a question. Not even a request. Just a statement so flat it erased all the usual preamble and I had to wonder why we were having this conversation again.
“Is that your alpha voice, or do you just enjoy the sound of your own logistics?”
He ignored that. “If you separate, she will not survive the stress.”
I twisted the cap on the bottle, checked the temperature against the inside of my wrist, and kept my own voice level. “You going to keep me here on a leash, or just trust the magic of maternal instinct?”
He looked at me—really looked, the way only a man who has killed and lost and not quite learned the difference ever can. “I’d rather you stayed by choice.”
I snorted. “What makes you think I’ve got a choice left?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t move. There was no impatience, no threat. Just that dense, glacier-solid presence I’d come to recognize as his default setting.
I said, “You know I’m not pack. I don’t answer to you, or your laws, or whatever you think the mate thing means.”
“I know,” he said, softer this time.
“Then why care?”
He looked down at Grace, her face bunched in hungry expectation. “Because you’re not disposable. And neither is she.”
It was the first thing he’d said all day that sounded like it cost him.
I picked up the baby, settled her in the crook of my arm, and started feeding her. The entire time, Braham just stood there, not watching, not hovering, but making it very clear that he would not be the one to leave first.
I said, “I’ll give you one night. After that, we talk terms.”
He nodded. “One night.”
I expected him to push. He didn’t. Just turned and walked away, every inch of him radiating the fact that he didn’t need to win every fight—just the ones that mattered.
Ashe materialized by the door, as if summoned by the mere concept of transition. “Guest suite is ready,” he said. No preamble, no idle threat. Just pure efficiency.
I followed him down the main hall, baby balanced on my hip, duffel over my shoulder.
The guest suite was at the far end, isolated, its own bathroom and a second set of blackout windows.
There was a travel bassinet already set up, sheets crisp, supplies squared away on the dresser.
No decor, no attempt at comfort. Just the facts.
Ashe lingered at the threshold, eyes scanning the room before settling on me. “If you need anything, dial zero on the phone. Security will answer.”
I said, “Thanks. You always this cheerful?”
He almost smiled. “No.” He left, closing the door with the same quiet certainty he did everything.
For the first time all day, I was alone.
I set Grace in the bassinet, watched her squirm and roll and finally go soft, her body relaxing in the way only infants or the terminally exhausted ever manage. I sat on the edge of the bed, hands braced on my knees, and did the math.
Forty-eight hours ago, I’d been a guy who avoided birthdays, holidays, and any excuse for a group photo.
Now I was holed up in a wolf’s den, responsible for a baby who would literally die if I tried to leave.
Two people were dead. Someone wanted this kid enough to send professionals.
And Wolfe, the man who could have replaced me with anyone in the city, wanted me here specifically.
I did not like the arithmetic, but I had to respect the logic.
The room was too quiet. For a second, I missed my apartment, the chaos of it, the noise and the comfort of never having to explain myself to anyone.
But, as I looked at the bassinet, watched Grace breathe, and couldn’t imagine leaving.
When the night got late enough, I lay back on the bed, jacket still on, boots off, and counted the seconds between her breaths. I stared at the ceiling, then the door, then the ceiling again. The lollipop had dissolved to nothing, leaving my mouth dry.
I thought about the Dalys. About the urgent message, the double-cross, the impossible odds against them. I thought about the bikes, the alley, the way every moment since had felt like a net tightening around my neck.
Mostly, I thought about Braham’s face, the second he said, “You’re not disposable.” Like maybe it was the first time he’d had to say it out loud, and wasn’t sure the world would allow it.
I let my mind run until it circled back to the one problem I hadn’t solved: someone had breached the comms. Someone had known to intercept the Dalys before they even got close. That meant the real threat wasn’t outside the walls. It was inside.
And now, so was I.
I closed my eyes, listened to Grace’s steady breath, and promised myself I wouldn’t sleep.
I did, anyway.