15. Ethan
Ethan
Of the three of us, I have always been the sensible one.
There was that short rebellious phase in boarding school, before I met Max and Finn, when it felt like everyone was ganging up against me for being poor, for being the scholarship kid who didn’t belong. I got into fights. Mouthed off to teachers. Spent more time in detention than in class.
But that didn’t last long. Once Max and Finn pulled me into their orbit, everyone started treating me better.
As if being friends with them suddenly made them all respect me.
And when we became a pack years later, I naturally fell into the role I’d been training for my whole life.
The steady, calm one. The one who smooths things over when Max gets too intense and Finn gets too reckless.
The father figure, if I’m being honest.
Which makes sense, given that I grew up without a dad. It was just me and my mother, and I learned early not to expect things to be easy. I couldn’t afford to fall apart and definitely couldn’t afford to feel too much. Emotions were a luxury we didn’t have room for.
I learned young that if you want to achieve things, really achieve them, you have to set your feelings aside and focus on what needs to be done.
It’s served me well.
I’m waiting at the back entrance of the building, the one tucked behind the maintenance shed that most people don’t even know exists. I stand in the dim corridor, the single security light outside casting a pale circle on the gravel path through the small window beside the door.
I check my watch. One minute to eight.
The door at the end of the corridor swings open and Sophie steps through, coming from the residential wing.
I almost don’t recognize her.
Gone is the lavender blouse, the soft waves and makeup that made her look like someone’s sweet, harmless assistant. In their place is a simple white t-shirt, black jeans, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
It’s like someone stripped away all the fluff and left only what was underneath.
“Mr. Brooks.” She nods at me, already scanning the corridor.
“Ethan,” I say. “Please.”
She glances at me briefly but says nothing.
“We told Nathan we’re doing a security system update tonight,” I say. “All cameras in the building are offline until midnight.”
She nods, already moving into the dim back corridor. As she passes, I catch a faint whiff of clean cotton and warm skin, like fresh laundry dried in the sun.
I recognize it immediately.
She’s on one of our suppressants. Specifically, the formulation designed to soften an omega’s scent. Depending on individual chemistry, it produces different results. Some end up smelling like baby powder, others like unscented soap or pale detergent. Sophie apparently landed on clean linen.
Sophie shrugs her backpack off one shoulder and unzips it, pulling out what looks like a tablet.
“I’ve studied the layout. Only two floors are worth sweeping.
The executive floor and security, since that’s where sensitive conversations happen.
If anyone would plant a device, I’m guessing it would be there. ”
“Makes sense,” I say. “How long will it take?”
“Two nights. Tonight we do the fourth floor. Tomorrow, the second.” She tucks the tablet back into her bag. “After that, we can focus on the human element.”
We walk toward the elevator in silence. Sophie is ahead of me, moving with that efficient, purposeful stride I’m starting to recognize as her default.
“So, Sophie,” I say as we reach the elevator. “How are the staff quarters treating you?”
She quirks an eyebrow at me as we step inside, her finger pressing the button for the fourth floor. “It’s... comfortable.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
The elevator hums as it ascends. Sophie is quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on the floor numbers ticking upward.
“No, but it makes my job more difficult.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It seems like the staff is well taken care of and happy. Happy employees are loyal employees, and they don’t leak information for money.
Which means whoever your mole is, they’re motivated by something else.
Which means it could be a hundred other things. ”
“Fair enough.” The elevator chimes and the doors slide open onto the fourth floor. “Shall we start with the conference rooms? The ones outside Max’s office see the most traffic.”
“Fine.” Sophie steps out, already scanning the corridor. “Lead the way.”
We walk to the first conference room, a glass-walled space with a long table and a view of the grounds that’s currently just a dark rectangle against the night.
Sophie draws the blinds before flipping on the lights, then immediately starts unpacking her equipment, pulling devices out of her backpack without looking at them.
The first thing she does is set a small matte-black box on the table and flip a switch on its side. A faint hiss rises from it, white noise pitched just at the edge of hearing. “Audio jammer,” she says, without being asked. “Any microphone in this room is recording static now. We can talk freely.”
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I move closer, watching as she assembles something that looks like a cross between a radio and a metal detector.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Non-linear junction detector.” She doesn’t look up. “It identifies electronic components, even ones that are turned off or passive.”
“How does it work?”
“It transmits a radio frequency signal. When it hits a semiconductor junction, the signal gets reflected back at harmonic frequencies.” She adjusts something on the device. “Different materials produce different harmonic signatures. Metal produces even harmonics. Electronics produce odd harmonics.”
“Fascinating.” And I mean it. I’d love to take that thing apart. “What’s the range?”
“Depends on the power output and the size of the target.” She’s moving now, sweeping the device along the wall in slow, methodical passes. “For something this size, I can detect a bug from about ten feet away. Smaller devices require closer proximity.”
“If you find one, we leave it in place.” I think out loud. “Feed it whatever we want them to hear.”
Sophie glances at me, and for a second she almost looks impressed. Then she smooths it away. “That’s one option. But first I need to know how many there are, and who’s had access.”
She continues her sweep, moving from the walls to the ceiling, then to the table, the chairs, the light fixtures. Her movements are efficient, like she’s done this a hundred times before, and I’m guessing she probably has.
After a moment she pauses, lowering the device. “You don’t need to stand around watching me work.”
“I know.” I move to stand beside her. “But I’d like to help if I can.”
She looks at me, then turns back to her equipment. “Suit yourself.”
She moves along the baseboards now, the detector emitting a soft electronic hum.
“You look like you’ve done this before,” I say, watching her work.
“I have.” She doesn’t look up. “Many, many times.”
“What kind of assignments do you usually do?”
She stops what she’s doing and turns to look at me.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Brooks, that’s not something I can talk about.”
“Ethan,” I say. “Just call me Ethan.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment, like using first names is something she usually doesn’t do during assignments. Then she shrugs and turns back to her work.
I watch in silence as she finishes sweeping the room. When she reaches for a smaller device on the table, some kind of spectrum analyzer from the look of it, I pick it up and hand it to her before she can stretch.
She blinks, surprised, but takes it without comment.
After that, we fall into a rhythm. She works, I assist, handing her equipment and moving furniture when she needs to check behind something.
“This room is clean,” she says finally, powering down the detector. “No bugs.”
“Thank God.” I straighten up, stretching the kink out of my back. “Three more conference rooms up here, then Max’s office and Finn’s.”
“And the main corridor.” She’s already packing up her equipment. “Let’s keep moving.”
We walk to the next conference room, and I hold the door open for her.
“So,” I say, handing her the detector as she begins her sweep, “I’m curious, Sophie. What do you think about our business?”
She shoots me a look that is very clearly annoyed.
“I don’t have an opinion.”
“What if you had to have one? Hypothetically.”
She looks like she’s about to shut me down.
But instead, she just sighs.
“It’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” She gestures vaguely at the room around us. “All of this... for what? To produce sex toys? To cater to alphas’ and omegas’ libidos?” She shakes her head. “Seems like a lot of resources for something so frivolous.”
I stare at her.
She’s dead serious.
I can’t help it. I start laughing.
Sophie’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, nothing.” I hold up my hands, trying to compose myself. “It’s just... I’ve never heard someone put it quite like that before.”
She scowls at me, clearly not seeing the humor. “I wasn’t joking.”
“I know you weren’t—” I take a breath, still grinning. “You do have a point. From the outside, I can see how it might look indulgent.”
“Indulgent is one word for it.”
“But,” I say, leaning against the conference table and crossing my arms, “don’t you think that’s an important task? Keeping everyone sexually satisfied?” I tilt my head, watching her reaction. “Helps maintain order in society. Happy people are productive people. And all that.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“Is it?” I push off from the table, taking a step closer.
Not crowding her, just closing the distance slightly.
“Think about it. Alphas and omegas have biological needs that can be overwhelming. Disruptive. Products like ours help people manage those urges safely. Privately. Without it affecting their work or their relationships.”
Sophie keeps her eyes fixed on her equipment, but I notice her movements have slowed. “So you’re saying you’re providing a public service.”