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77: The Unwritten Order

Penulis: Katherine Reeds
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-11-01 08:26:44

POV: Damon

The Records Office smelled of old paper and cold coffee, the way it always had. I had spent half my childhood in the corridors outside it, waiting for my father to finish a meeting, and I knew the rhythm of the place: soft footsteps, closing drawers, no one raising their voice.

The Records Administrator looked up from her desk when I approached. She had the careful expression of someone who already suspected what I was going to ask.

“I need the Eastern Border files,” I said. “The
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  • My Rogue Mate, My Captor   89: The Distance Between Us

    POV: Ivy I'd already had a cup of coffee, but three hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough to get me through the day. I walked into the hospital with a phone that hadn't lit up once. Ronan hadn't called back. I'd told myself I didn't care when I checked it at six, and again at seven, and again in the elevator. By the time I reached the ward, I'd stopped pretending. He'd hung up on me, and he hadn't called back. That was the whole message. Grayson's text arrived during rounds.*Good morning, Ivy. Whenever you have a moment, could you let me know when you'd be free to collect a few things you left at my place? No rush.*I read it twice in the corridor, standing beside a medication cart. There was nothing unkind about it. That was what bothered me. No emojis, no familiar joke at the end. It sounded like something he'd send a colleague.I stared at the screen until a nurse called my name.At noon, I called him.“Ivy.” He sounded surprised. “Is everything all right?”“Everything's fine. I j

  • My Rogue Mate, My Captor   88: The Man Behind the Paper

    POV: RonanI'd hung up on Ivy at one in the morning. By dawn, I regretted ending the conversation that way, though I hadn't changed my mind about a word I'd said. By the time I reached the study, I was in no mood to be patient.Damon was already there, his silver hair untidy and his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his blue eyes moving across three documents Elowyn had spread along the table. The forged authorization with my father's signature. The Ashgrave transfer record. The administrative directive that had kept the estate funded and its restrictions in place. Rain tapped steadily against the window.“Sit,” Elowyn said, without looking up. “You're pacing without moving, and it's distracting.”I sat.“Here's what we have,” she said, and tapped each page in turn. “In July 2022, an authorization appears under Cassian's name, months after he died. In August, your custody at Ashgrave is recorded under restrictions that cite that authorization. And this directive,” she touched the third pa

  • My Rogue Mate, My Captor   87: Not What I Wanted to Hear

    POV: IvyHe didn't answer immediately. Then he looked toward the parking lot.“Not here. Get in the car.”“Ronan.”“I'll give you your answer. I'd rather give it where I don't have to share it.”I knew exactly what he was doing. I unlocked the car anyway. I took the driver's seat, he took the passenger's, and the door closing felt far too much like a decision.“You're a beautiful woman.” His mouth tilted. “So yes, Ivy. Even without the mate bond, you'd drive me crazy. I'd just have taken longer to admit it.”My chest ached. “Wow.”I'd spent the entire evening wondering whether he was falling for me the way I was falling for him. And all he could tell me was that I was beautiful. Was that really his answer?I was still deciding whether to tell him how disappointing that answer was when he leaned across the console. His gaze dropped to my mouth.I should have moved away. Instead, I caught his collar and pulled him closer.He made a low sound against my mouth that went straight through me

  • My Rogue Mate, My Captor   86: More Than the Bond

    POV: Ivy I sent the message from the hospital parking structure, sitting in my car with the engine off and my badge still clipped to my coat. *Are you free tonight? Not for the investigation.* I stared at it for a full minute before I let myself send it. Then I put the phone face-down on the passenger seat and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. I'd told Grayson we needed time to think, and he'd let me leave without another argument. Since then, we've exchanged only careful, polite messages. Neither of us had mentioned the lake. I hadn’t decided what I was doing. I only knew I couldn’t spend another night alone with the question he had left me. The reply came before I had finished exhaling. *Yes. Tell me where.* We met at a diner on the east side, the kind with cracked vinyl booths and a pie case nobody ever emptied. It was nearly nine. The only other customers were a trucker and a couple arguing quietly over a shared plate of fries. Ronan was already in the corner boo

  • My Rogue Mate, My Captor   85: The Missing Submission

    POV: DamonThe Records Annex smelled the way it always did on Mondays: floor wax, old paper, and the faint metallic tang of the dehumidifiers that kept the damp out of the stacks. I had been coming here since I was seventeen. My father used to say a man could learn more about the Council from its filing cabinets than from any of its sessions, and for most of my life I had thought he was joking.I signed the visitor ledger, took the stairs to the second floor, and stopped at the index desk with REG-22-0714-3391 written on my palm with a ballpoint.The administrator on duty was a narrow, careful man named Hollis, who had worked this desk for as long as I could remember and treated every request as if it might be a trap. He pulled the number up on the index terminal without comment and turned the screen toward me.“Received and processed, July 2022,” he said. “Family endorsement, custodial. Accepted by the Registry.”“And the original submission?”He clicked, frowned, and clicked again.

  • My Rogue Mate, My Captor   84: The Future We Planned

    POV: IvyHis mother pronounced the lemon cake ‘fine’, which meant she loved it. By the time we left her house on Sunday afternoon, she had wrapped four slices in foil for Grayson and pressed a container of leftover stew into his hands. He dare not say no. He would have heard about how she wonders how he survives on takeouts. He carried it to the car like a trophy.“Told you,” he said.“You said two-thirds of the cake goes into the fridge, what she kept back was more than two-thirds.”“She’s getting bolder.”We didn’t go home. We drove to the lake instead, the quiet side where the road ended at a gravel turnout, and spread an old blanket on the grass. The afternoon was warm and slow. He lay on his back with his head against my thigh and told me a long, rambling story about a colleague who had reply-all’d his way into a three-day argument, and I laughed until my ribs hurt. His fingers traced absent circles on my knee. Everything about him was familiar: the freckle by his ear, the way he

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