What a Coincidence.

Keon’s POV:

Rowan does not slow down.

He moves through the corridor with purpose, and I follow without needing to be told twice. The moment we step out of the dining hall, the air feels different. Quieter. Tighter. Like whatever he is about to show me does not belong in open spaces or casual conversation.

I do not ask questions immediately.

Rowan would not interrupt me in front of the entire hall unless it mattered.

Still, the silence stretches long enough that I decide to break it.

“What is it?” I ask.

He does not look back at me when he answers.

“I need you to see it first.”

That is not like him.

Rowan is direct. Efficient. He does not drag things out unless there is a reason.

Which means whatever this is… he is choosing his words carefully.

My jaw tightens slightly.

We turn down a narrower corridor, one that leads away from the main flow of the palace. Fewer guards. Less movement. More controlled.

Good.

If this is what I think it is, I do not want unnecessary attention on it yet.

Rowan finally slows when we reach a closed door at the end of the hall.

Two guards stand outside it.

Both alert.

Both tense in a way that confirms my instincts were right.

Rowan nods to them.

“Open it.”

They obey immediately.

The door creaks slightly as it swings inward.

The moment I step inside, I know.

The air carries it.

Faint.

But familiar.

Wrong.

My gaze sharpens.

“What happened here?”

Rowan steps in behind me, closing the door softly.

“This room was cleared at dawn,” he says. “Routine rotation. One of the servants noticed something off.”

I move further in.

The room looks normal at first glance.

Bed made.

Furniture in place.

Nothing overturned.

No obvious signs of struggle.

But I do not look at things the way others do.

I look at what does not belong.

And I feel it immediately.

Residual.

Faint traces of something unnatural pressed into the space, like a shadow that refuses to fully leave.

The same distortion.

The same presence.

My expression hardens.

“When?” I ask.

“Early this morning,” Rowan replies. “Just after first light.”

That is too close.

Too precise.

I crouch slightly, letting my senses sharpen, focusing on the traces left behind.

It is weaker than what I felt in my room.

But it is the same. There's just something familiar about both of these I just can't put a finger on it.

No doubt.

I straighten slowly.

“This is not the first place it appeared,” I say.

Rowan watches me carefully.

“No,” he says. “It isn’t.”

Silence settles between us for a moment.

Heavy.

Calculated.

Then he steps closer.

“I felt it too,” he adds quietly.

That gets my attention.

Rowan does not say things like that lightly.

“You’re certain?” I ask.

“Yes.”

His gaze does not waver.

“It wasn’t a normal presence. It didn’t move like a wolf. It didn’t carry scent the way it should.”

Exactly.

My mind moves quickly now, putting pieces together.

Two locations.

Same presence.

Same method.

Which means this was not a single attempt.

It moved.

Inside my palace.

Without being seen.

My jaw tightens further.

“How many guards were on rotation?” I ask.

“Standard,” Rowan replies. “No gaps. No reports.”

Of course not.

Whatever this is, it knows how to avoid them.

Or worse.

How to move through them.

My gaze shifts back to the room.

Then to Rowan.

“What else?”

He hesitates.

Not long.

But enough that I notice.

“There’s more,” he says.

I wait.

He exhales slowly.

“One of the outer patrols reported something similar last night. Near the east wing.”

That stops me.

“Why wasn’t I informed immediately?”

“It was faint,” Rowan says. “They thought it was nothing at first. By the time they checked again, it was gone.”

My patience thins.

“And now?”

“And now we have three separate points inside the palace where something like this has been detected.”

Three.

My room.

This room.

The east wing.

That is not movement.

That is mapping.

Something cold settles in my chest.

It is not just testing entry.

It is learning the layout.

Understanding patterns.

Positioning itself.

For her.

My hand curls slightly at my side.

Rowan watches the shift.

“You’re thinking the same thing I am,” he says.

“Yes.”

“This isn’t random.”

“No.”

We stand there for a moment, both of us looking at the same space, both of us reaching the same conclusion without needing to say it out loud.

This is targeted.

Precise.

Planned.

Rowan crosses his arms slowly.

“You’ve been holding something back,” he says.

It is not an accusation.

Not fully.

But it is close.

I meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?”

He studies me.

“Something happened today. A while after sun rise,” he says, “you didn’t report it.”

The room goes quiet again.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

Rowan misses very little.

I do not answer immediately.

Because this is the line.

What I say next determines how much he knows.

And how much I am willing to reveal.

“I handled it,” I say finally.

“That’s not what I asked.”

His voice is steady.

Firm.

“You didn’t log it. You didn’t call for reinforcement. You didn’t alert the patrols.”

A pause.

Then—

“That’s not like you.”

No.

It isn’t.

But last night was not standard protocol.

Last night was her.

I hold his gaze.

“It was contained,” I say.

“For now.”

The words sit between us.

Rowan’s expression shifts slightly.

Not anger.

Not distrust.

Concern.

“You think it’s going to happen again,” he says.

It is not a question.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

I do not answer that.

Because I do not know.

And I do not like not knowing.

Rowan exhales slowly.

Then nods once.

“We need to do something Keon. We cannot keep allowing these things to happen. If her people find out something happened again, it won't go down well.”

I grit my teeth. “I know. We will.”

“Double the inner guards. Restrict movement. No one moves without clearance.”

“It will be done.”

He watches me for another second.

Then his voice lowers slightly.

“And Winter?”

There it is.

I do not react outwardly.

But inside, something sharpens instantly.

“She stays inside,” I say.

“Will she listen?”

“No.”

A brief silence.

Rowan almost smiles.

Almost.

“Then you’ll need to make sure she does.”

“I will.”

Another pause.

He nods again.

“Good.”

The conversation should end there.

But something lingers.

Unspoken.

Rowan turns slightly toward the door, then stops.

“There’s one more thing,” he says.

I look at him.

“What?”

He hesitates.

"Know what you're doing Keon. All of this...Derrick being mated to Winter. The way you move weird around her. The attack. People are noticing something off about you. They always are."

He looks at me. Really looks at me.

He finally nods and moves toward the door.

“I’ll handle the patrol adjustments,” he says just as he opens the door. “We’ll speak again after.”

I incline my head slightly.

He leaves.

The door closes behind him.

And I am alone in the room.

Well shit.

For a moment, I do not move. I stand there, letting the silence settle again, letting my thoughts align with what I already know.

Is it bad that I don't regret anything with Winter? My only regret was being unable to protect her that day, and I kept her safe today. Although, had I been a second slower, she would've gotten struck.

I exhale loudly.

They already got inside once. Were they the same thing that got in the first time she was attacked?

Most likely.

They will try again.

Obviously.

They've been ahead of me in almost all their attempts. I need to make sure that never happens again.

I inhale deeply.

I need to think.

I exhale. At least try to.

A sharp pain cuts suddenly through my side.

It is not deep.

Not enough to stagger me.

But enough to make me stiffen slightly where I stand.

My hand moves there instinctively.

Nothing.

No wound.

No blood.

Just a brief, sharp pulse of pain that fades almost as quickly as it came.

My brows draw together.

That was not from the fight.

It is something else.

Something unfamiliar.

Coincidence maybe? Just a random muscle pulling too tight?

It feels… connected.

My jaw tightens.

I do not believe in coincidence.