"Someone accessed the clinic's internal records two hours ago," Cael said. "Everything tied to your procedure."

He was standing at the head of the table in the same room I'd found him in earlier, except now the laptops were all open and Lena was beside him with her arms crossed and the man in the suit was gone. The room felt tighter. The air in it had changed.

I walked to the nearest chair and sat down because I needed to be sitting for this and I wasn't going to pretend otherwise.

"What does that mean exactly?" I asked. "What did they get?"

"Your full name. Your address, the old one. Your procedure date, the sample reference, and the assigned donor match." Lena pulled up something on the laptop nearest to her and turned the screen toward me. A log of access timestamps, a string of numbers that meant nothing to me and clearly meant a great deal to both of them. "They went directly to your file. They knew exactly what they were looking for."

"Which means they already knew about the error," I said.

"Yes," Cael said.

I let that sit for a second. "Before you did?"

His jaw tightened. Just slightly. "Possibly. Or at the same time."

I looked at the screen and then back at him. "So when you called me that first night, there was already someone else who knew."

"We believe so."

I had a feeling sitting in my stomach that I recognized from the worst shifts at the hospital, the particular weight of a situation that had already moved past the point where preparation would have helped. You just had to work with where things were now.

"My brother," I said. "Theo. Does he need to be moved?"

Cael looked at me steadily. "We've already put someone on him. As of an hour ago."

I opened my mouth and then closed it. Part of me wanted to argue about the fact that he'd made that call without asking me. The other part, the part that had watched my mother decline for two years and learned the cost of being too proud to accept help in time, let it go.

"Does Theo know?" I asked.

"He knows there's a security detail. He doesn't know why yet. I thought that conversation should come from you."

That was the right answer. I noted that he'd given it without being prompted.

"Okay," I said. "What else?"

Lena pulled up a second screen. "The person who accessed the file used a proxy, but the signature of the intrusion matches two previous incidents connected to Aldric Morse's organization. We can't prove it in a legal sense yet. But we know."

"Who is Aldric Morse?" I asked.

The question landed in a small silence.

Cael came around the table and sat down across from me, which meant he wanted me to actually hear this rather than receive it across a distance.

"He's the other primary candidate for Alpha King," he said. "He leads the Eastern Coalition, four packs in the mid-Atlantic region. He's been my main opposition for two years." He paused. "He's also the kind of man who views people as problems to be solved, and his methods for solving them are not ones I'd want anywhere near you."

"Has he hurt people before?"

"Yes."

"People connected to you specifically?"

Cael's expression didn't change but something behind his eyes did. "My father died four years ago. The official cause was cardiac failure. I have spent those four years building a case that says otherwise."

The room was very quiet.

I looked at him, at the stillness he wore like armor, and understood that this wasn't just politics to him. It never had been.

"And he knows that you know," I said.

"He knows I suspect. He doesn't know how much I've found." He held my gaze. "Which is why I need to be careful. And why I need you to be careful."

I nodded slowly. "What does careful look like from my end?"

"You don't go anywhere alone," Lena said. "Not outside this property. If you go to the hospital, someone goes with you. If you go anywhere, you tell me first."

"I told you I wasn't going to be a prisoner."

"You're not." Lena's voice was flat and matter-of-fact, not unkind, just built from a different material than warmth. "A prisoner doesn't get to set the terms of their own movements. You do. You just don't go alone."

It was a reasonable distinction. I didn't have to like it.

"Fine," I said.

Cael was still watching me. I could feel it even when I wasn't looking directly at him, a steady kind of attention that didn't push but didn't look away either. It was the most consistently unnerving thing about him, the fact that he looked at me like I was worth the effort of paying attention to.

Nate used to look through me when I talked. I hadn't noticed until I had something to compare it to.

I pushed that thought away immediately.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"We continue building the case against Aldric. We keep your presence here quiet for as long as possible. And we wait for the pregnancy confirmation." Cael folded his hands on the table. "Everything moves differently depending on that result."

"Two weeks," I said.

"Yes."

"A lot can happen in two weeks."

"It can," he agreed.

I stood up. My legs were steady, which I was grateful for. "Then I'm going to get some sleep. If anything changes tonight, wake me."

Lena gave me a short nod that I was choosing to interpret as respect.

I walked back up the stairs and down the corridor and into the room that smelled like cedar and clean linen, and I sat on the edge of the large bed and stared at the wall and let myself feel, for just one private minute, how frightened I actually was.

Not of Cael. Not of the estate or the pack or the silver-eyed reality I'd walked into.

Frightened of what it meant that Theo had a security detail on him tonight because of a decision I'd made for myself. Frightened of what it meant that somewhere out there a man I'd never met already knew my name and my address and the most private thing I had done in years.

I had walked into the clinic alone because I was done waiting for life to happen on someone else's terms.

And life, it turned out, had a spectacular sense of humor.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A number I didn't recognize.

I stared at it for one ring. Two.

Then I picked it up.

The voice on the other end was smooth and unhurried, like someone who had never once been caught off guard.

"Ms. Crane," it said. "My name is Aldric Morse. I think it's time we spoke directly. Don't you?”

"How did you get this number?"

It was the only thing I could think to say. My voice came out flat and steady, which was a small miracle, because every nerve in my body had just fired at once.

A soft sound on the other end. Not quite a laugh. "Ms. Crane, I have access to considerably more than your phone number. That's rather the point of this call."

Aldric Morse spoke the way some doctors did, the ones who delivered bad news with a pleasant expression, like the words themselves were not their responsibility.

"What do you want?" I asked.

To introduce myself. To assure you that whatever Cael has told you about me, my interest in you is not hostile. A pause, smooth and practiced. You're a nurse. Educated, practical, clearly intelligent. I'd like to think we can speak plainly.

"Then speak plainly."

You've been pulled into something that has nothing to do with you. A political campaign, a succession war, decades of pack history you had no part in building. You made a personal decision at a fertility clinic and someone else's war landed in your lap. Another pause. That isn't fair. And I'd like to offer you a way out of it.

I stood up from the bed and walked to the window. The security lights were still running their quiet lines across the back grounds below. One of Lena's people was visible at the tree line.

"What kind of way out?" I asked.

Leave the estate. Tonight, if you prefer. I have a property outside the city, entirely private, full medical staff, every resource you could need for a healthy pregnancy. No pack politics. No power games. Just safety and comfort and the freedom to make your own choices about your child's future.

The words were reasonable. Thoughtful, even. Carefully arranged, like furniture in a showroom, placed to make you feel at home before you noticed there were no windows.

"And in exchange?" I said.

The briefest hesitation. "Nothing unreasonable."

"That's not an answer."

"In exchange, you simply make yourself unavailable to Cael. You remove yourself as a variable in his campaign. No statements, no appearances, no cooperation. You live quietly and safely until the child is born, and then we discuss arrangements like adults."

I pressed my free hand flat against the cold glass of the window.

He was good. I would give him that. The offer was built to sound like freedom. But I had spent enough time sitting with patients in crisis to know that when someone told you they wanted nothing unreasonable, they had already decided what reasonable meant and it wasn't going to match your definition.

"Mr. Morse," I said, "I appreciate the call. I'm going to decline."

A beat of silence. The pleasant tone didn't shift, but something underneath it did, like a temperature drop you feel before you see your breath.

"I'd encourage you to think about it before deciding."

"I have thought about it. The answer is no."

I ended the call.

My hands were not shaking. I was genuinely surprised by that.

I was already moving toward the door when it opened from the other side. Cael stood in the frame, and behind him in the corridor Lena had a phone pressed to her ear. His eyes went to the phone in my hand immediately.

"You got a call," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Aldric Morse." I held up my phone. "He had this number. He offered me a safe house outside the city, full medical care, and my freedom, in exchange for making myself unavailable to you and your campaign."

Something moved through Cael's expression, there and gone in under a second, but I caught it. Fury, quiet and cold, the kind that didn't need volume.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I said no." I walked past him into the corridor. "But you should know he has my number, which means either the clinic records had it or someone in your circle gave it to him, because I didn't hand it to anyone outside this house."

Lena lowered her phone. The look she exchanged with Cael lasted less than two seconds and communicated something I wasn't yet fluent enough in their dynamic to read.

"She's right," Lena said. "The clinic file had her primary contact number. We should have flagged that."

"We did flag it," Cael said. "We changed the clinic's access permissions three hours ago." His jaw was tight. "He already had it before we locked the file."

I leaned against the corridor wall and looked at both of them. "So he's been ahead of this since before you called me."

"Possibly since before the error was reported," Lena said.

That landed in the hallway like something heavy dropped from a height.

I thought about the clinic. The nurse with a kind face. The laminated poster. The procedure that was supposed to be simple and private and entirely mine.

"This wasn't an accident," I said. "The mix-up."

Neither of them answered immediately.

Which was an answer.

I looked at Cael directly. "You already suspected that."

"Yes," he said.

"Since when?"

"Since the notification came through and the timing matched three other incidents connected to Aldric in the last eighteen months." He held my gaze without apology. "I didn't tell you because I didn't have proof. I still don't."

I absorbed that.

I wanted to be angry about it. I was angry about it. But I also understood the calculation, and I had made enough hard calls in my own work to know that withholding uncertain information from someone already in shock was sometimes the only responsible option.

I straightened off the wall. "I want everything you have on him. Not a summary. Everything."

Cael studied me for a moment. "All right."

"Tonight," I said.

He nodded once. "Tonight."

I turned back toward my room to get my notes, and then stopped.

"One more thing," I said, without turning around. "He knew I was already here. He said the estate by name."

The silence behind me was the loudest thing in the house.

Someone had told Aldric Morse exactly where I was.

And that someone was inside these walls.