Chapter 6

The first thing I felt wasn't pain.

It was grief. Massive, ancient, and not my own. It crashed through me like a black wave, dragging me up from unconsciousness into a world that hurt too much to exist in. I gasped, my eyes flying open, and for a terrible moment I didn't know where I ended and Brian began.

He was sitting beside my bed in what looked like a hastily converted storage room. Medical equipment beeped around me. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. His hand gripped mine so tightly I could feel my bones grinding together, but the physical pain was nothing compared to what was pouring through our new bond. Four hundred years of loss. Every wolf he'd ever buried. Every enemy he'd ever made. Every night he'd spent wondering if the loneliness would finally kill him. It all hit me at once, and I understood with devastating clarity that Brian Abbot had been drowning for centuries. I was just the first person close enough to feel it.

"You're awake." His voice was hoarse.

"Can't breathe," I managed.

He released my hand immediately, and the flood of emotion dimmed to something almost manageable. Almost. I could still feel him at the edges of my mind, a constant presence like standing too close to a bonfire.

"The bond takes time to adjust," he said quietly. "Most mates learn to build walls. Control what they share."

"Most mates don't mark each other in the middle of a war zone." I tried to sit up and failed. My shoulder screamed in protest, the silver wound still raw despite the antidote. "How long was I out?"

"Six hours."

Six hours. The attack felt like minutes ago. I could still smell the wolfsbane, still hear the screaming. But something in Brian's expression told me those six hours had been busy.

"Tell me," I said.

He didn't want to. I could feel that through the bond, his desperate need to protect me from what came next. But he'd also felt my stubbornness, my refusal to be coddled. So he told me.

Three dead. Seven wounded. The east wing was completely destroyed—medical supplies, security archives, and the communications center all gone. The hunters had known exactly where to hit.

"Who?" The word scraped my throat like glass.

Brian's jaw tightened. "Jamie Thornton. Nineteen years old. He'd only been with the pack for eight months. Transferred from his family's small pack in Oregon because he wanted to see the world." A muscle twitched in his cheek. "He was covering the service entrance when they breached. Took four silver bullets to the chest before anyone could reach him."

Nineteen. The same age as Elena. I thought about the folded notes she'd passed me under dinner plates, the intelligence about hunter movements that I'd kept to myself. Intelligence that might have saved a boy who just wanted to see the world.

"Who else?" My voice didn't sound like mine.

"David Chen. Forty-two. Father of two girls—they're six and nine. His mate is..." Brian stopped, and through the bond I felt something crack inside him. "She won't survive losing him. Some bonds are too deep. She'll follow him within the month."

Two little girls about to lose both parents. Because I'd stayed silent.

"And the third?"

"Margaret Price. Sixty-seven. She served my father before me, and his father before that. Forty years of loyalty." Brian stood abruptly, moving to the small window. Dawn was breaking outside, gray and cold. "She was the one who taught me to read, did you know that? When I was young and wild and thought books were for cowards. She sat me down and said, 'Alpha or not, a man who cannot read is a man who cannot lead.' She was right."

I watched his back, the rigid line of his shoulders, and felt his grief mixing with my guilt until I couldn't tell them apart. Three wolves dead. Two little girls orphaned. A boy who would never see the world. And I could have prevented all of it.

The weight of that knowledge settled into my chest like a stone.

The door opened, and Marcus slipped inside. His usual easy smile was gone, replaced by something hard and tired. He'd been up all night—I could see it in the shadows under his eyes, the dust and dried blood still clinging to his clothes.

"She's awake," he said to Brian. Then, to me: "Good. We need everyone functional."

"Marcus," Brian's voice carried a warning.

"What? She took a silver bullet and survived. She can handle the truth." Marcus crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "The compound's compromised, Aggie. The hunters didn't just get lucky. They knew exactly what they were doing."

I thought of Elena's careful handoffs, the tiny slips of paper burning holes in my memory. "What do you mean?"

"The east wing security rotation. Brian announced it at dinner, remember? New protocols, new assignments." Marcus's green eyes found mine, and I couldn't read what was behind them. "The hunters hit the east wing first. Took out the guards before they even knew what was happening. Guards who were assigned to those positions less than three hours before the attack."

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

"Someone at that dinner told them," I said slowly.

"Someone at that dinner told them," Marcus confirmed. "We had maybe forty people in that room. Inner circle, senior pack members, a few support staff." His gaze drifted to the window, then back to me. "And one new addition who'd been meeting with mysterious contacts in garages at three in the morning."

"Marcus." Brian's voice was ice now.

"I'm not accusing her. I'm stating facts." But Marcus's expression softened slightly. "Look, Aggie, I know you took a bullet meant for my brother. That buys a lot of goodwill. But you understand why people are going to have questions."

I understood perfectly. And the worst part was, they were right to have questions. I had met with that vampire. I had been communicating with someone inside the compound. I just hadn't told them anything that could have caused this.

Had I?

The door opened again, and this time Dmitri entered. The massive Russian looked even more exhausted than Marcus, and there was fresh blood on his knuckles.

"Alpha," he said, his voice flat. "We have completed the initial sweep."

"And?"

"The hunters' entry point was the east service corridor. They bypassed the electronic locks using a master code—one that was changed only yesterday." Dmitri's eyes flickered to me, then away. "The new code was distributed to senior staff at fifteen hundred hours. The attack came at twenty hundred hours."

Five hours. Someone had leaked the new security codes within five hours of receiving them.

"How many people had access?" Brian asked.

"Twelve. I have compiled a list." Dmitri handed over a tablet. "But Alpha, there is something else."

The room went very still. Through the bond, I felt Brian's dread spike.

"The hunters hit the east wing first," Dmitri continued. "Before the dining room, before the residential quarters. They went straight for medical and communications. They knew those were priority targets. They knew exactly where everything was stored."

"Someone drew them a map," Marcus said quietly.

"Someone drew them a map," Dmitri agreed. "And Alpha... the only person who has conducted a full tour of the east wing in the last month is the woman who was embedded with the human servers."

He meant Elena.

My heart stopped. Seventeen years old. Passing me notes under dinner plates. Working with my parents to save me.

"Find her," Brian commanded.

"Already done. She's in the dining hall, helping the wounded." Dmitri paused. "Do you want me to bring her in for questioning?"

I should have spoken. Should have told them everything—the notes, the contact, the fact that Elena was just a terrified teenager following orders. But if I did, they would know I'd had advance warning of the attack. They would know I could have stopped it and chose not to.

Jamie Thornton. David Chen. Margaret Price.

Their blood was on my hands. And if I confessed now, Elena's blood would be too.

"Yes," Brian said. "Bring her. Gently—she's young. But bring her."

Dmitri nodded and left. Through the small window, I could see the first rays of sun hitting the damaged compound. Somewhere out there, Elena was carrying water to wounded wolves, not knowing that her world was about to collapse.

Just like mine had.

Brian turned to me after Marcus followed Dmitri out. His eyes searched my face, and I felt him testing the edges of our bond, looking for something.

"You're hiding something," he said. Not an accusation. An observation.

"I'm trying to process three deaths and a silver bullet. Forgive me if I'm not completely transparent."

"Aggie." He sat on the edge of my bed, close enough that his scent wrapped around me. "I felt you just now. When Dmitri mentioned the server. Your heart rate spiked."

The bond. I'd forgotten it worked both ways.

"I'm scared," I said, which was true. "There's a traitor in your pack and I'm the obvious suspect."

"You're not a suspect."

"I should be."

His hand found my face, tilting it toward him. "You took a bullet for me. You let me mark you. Whatever secrets you're keeping, they're not about betraying this pack."

He was so certain. And he was so wrong.

I leaned into his touch anyway, hating myself for the comfort I found there. Through the bond, I felt his love—fierce and possessive and utterly unconditional. He would burn the world for me. Kill anyone who threatened me.

Even a seventeen-year-old girl who was only trying to help.

"Brian," I whispered. "What happens to the traitor when you find them?"

His eyes went cold. Not at me—at the thought of whoever had cost him three wolves.

"They die," he said simply. "Slowly. Publicly. As an example."

I closed my eyes.

Elena was going to die because of me.

Unless I found a way to save her without destroying myself.

The door opened one more time, and Dmitri's voice cut through the silence.

"Alpha. We have a problem."

Brian stood immediately. "What?"

"The girl—Elena." Dmitri's face was grim. "She's gone. And so is every piece of paper from the security office. Someone warned her we were coming."

Through the bond, I felt Brian's rage ignite like a wildfire.

And underneath it, buried so deep he probably didn't notice, I felt his first flicker of doubt.

About me.