One moment we were savoring our meal at the restaurant, the next I was throwing my body between Cassy and a savage wall of camera flashes that exploded around us like gunfire. The reporters swarmed, vultures circling fresh meat, hurling questions that cut deeper than knives. "Is it true you rescued her from abuse?" "How does it feel to mate with damaged goods?" My wolf clawed beneath my skin, desperate to tear out their throats, to paint the walls with their blood for daring to speak of her that way. My vision edged with crimson, fangs threatening to drop. Only the knowledge that such violence would haunt Cassy's reputation stayed my hand.
Matt and Nicki surged forward like battle-hardened sentries, their bodies becoming a fortress between us and the ravenous press. Shoulders locked, they rammed through the chaos, carving an escape route from our shattered evening. Cassy's nails dug crescents into my arm, her entire body convulsing against mine. Outside, the vultures circled tighter. Matt bolted for the car while microphones jabbed at my face like daggers. Nicki's voice thundered above the frenzy, "NO COMMENT!" each syllable a warning shot, her eyes flashing dangerously as she snarled, "BACK UP NOW!"
Matt screeched to the curb. I hunched over Cassy like a shield, arms forming a protective cage around her trembling frame.
"Keep your head down," I growled, using my broader shoulders to absorb the assault of camera flashes. I yanked open the door and practically lifted her inside, my eyes never leaving her face, searching for signs of distress.
Nicki slammed in from the other side, wrapping a steadying arm around Cassy. Only then did I reluctantly break contact. A reporter lunged forward, fingers clawing at my sleeve. I whirled with a feral snarl that sent him stumbling backward.
I dove into the passenger seat. The car door slammed with enough force to rock the chassis. Matt floored it before I'd fully settled, my eyes fixed on Cassy's pale face in the rearview mirror.
My wolf paced beneath my skin, but I forced my attention away from bloodlust to study Cassy's reflection. Her pupils were still dilated with fear, her pulse visible at her throat. When she whispered, "I'm okay... was just overwhelmed for a second," I reached back between the seats, finding her hand. I brushed my thumb across her knuckles, counting her breaths until they steadied, memorizing the exact moment her shoulders lowered from her ears.
Nicki shushed her with a gentleness that was almost shocking, stroking Cassy's hair and murmuring quietly as Matt took corners at speeds that would've given my mother a coronary. Only when we hit the palace gates did I allow myself to unclench. My breathing was ragged, my skin prickling with adrenaline, but my primary focus was Cassy. When she met my eyes, her own still glassy but defiant, I felt the tightness in my chest finally ease.
"We're almost home," I said, voice as low and steady as I could muster. She nodded, jaw set and chin lifted, and I suddenly wanted to kiss her bruised knuckles, to whisper the thousand apologies that swelled in my gut for ever putting her in that situation.
Inside the garage, Matt killed the engine. In the sudden silence, I watched his knuckles whiten around the steering wheel, his shoulders trembling with barely contained rage. My thoughts raced backward through the evening—the secluded table I'd specifically requested, the private entrance, the last-minute reservation under a false name. No coincidences, no accidents. I met Matt's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Someone leaked us," I said, the words falling like stones between us. "Someone knew exactly where we'd be tonight."
Matt's lips pressed together in a pale, furious line. "I used a burner. Booked it through two proxies," he said, his voice lower than I'd ever heard. "No way they got this from my system." His gaze flicked to Nicki, who immediately shook her head, dark eyes burning. "I never told anyone. Not even my own mother." She spat the last word like she'd found a bug in her food, which was saying something for Nicki.
I twisted in my seat to face Cassy. Her arms were still wrapped tight around herself, but she caught my searching gaze and forced a small, lopsided smile. "Maybe it was just luck," she offered, her voice so hoarse it was barely more than a whisper. But I saw the calculation behind her eyes.
I exhaled, shoulders collapsing as I turned to face Cassy. My fingers trembled slightly as I pushed them through my hair. "I promised to protect you," I whispered, the words scraping my throat raw. "And I've already failed. Again."
Cassy reached across the space between us, her fingertips ghosting over my clenched knuckles. Her smile wavered at the edges, eyes still holding that haunted look, but her touch was steady. "Hey," she murmured, "I'm still here. We both are." She swallowed hard. "That's what matters, right?"
Nicki's hands slapped against her thighs, her eyes darting between us as the silence stretched. "We can't let those vultures win," she said, drumming her fingers against her knee. Then her face brightened. "Wait—what about..." She snapped her fingers twice, looking up at the ceiling of the car. "Palace kitchen. Movie theater. The big one with the recliners." Her words tumbled out faster as the plan formed. "I'll call ahead. We can have everything ready in twenty minutes." She leaned forward, searching Cassy's face. "What do you think? Emergency movie night?"
Cassy's lips curved into a tentative smile. "I'm down."
The tension eased a little, but I caught Matt's eye in the mirror and mind linked him.
'Find out who leaked our location. Quietly.' His almost imperceptible nod was all I needed.
'Already mapping the restaurant staff rotations, Alpha. Give me six hours.'
My shoulders loosened. If there was a trail, Matt would unearth it like a bloodhound with a PhD.
Nicki's eyes narrowed to slits. "Did you just mindlink with my mate?" She flicked Matt's ear. "What'd he order you to do now, fetch his royal slippers?"
I raised my hands in surrender, slipping out of the car before she could start her usual lecture about alpha privilege. Behind me, Matt's poorly concealed snort of laughter only fueled her indignation.
Nicki was already out of the car, looping her arm through Cassy's before I could so much as tug my jacket straight. "Race you to the elevators," she said, her voice a whipcrack of mischief. Cassy's answering laugh was brittle but real. I watched the two of them barrel toward the palace entrance, their shadows long against the pavement, and the anxiety burning in my gut eased just a fraction.
Matt lingered by the car, scanning the rear drive with the cool detachment of a sniper. I stepped up beside him, my hand curling into a fist at my side. "We need every second of that six hours," I said, my voice barely more than a vibration in the air. "If this came from inside, I want to know which rat is feeding them."
Matt nodded once, crystal-clear, and then reached into the sedan's trunk for his battered messenger bag. I watched him as he worked, thumbs flying over the LunaLink pad, pulling up lists of staff, vendors, the night's security rotations. His brain—famously retentive, almost eidetic—was already filtering the suspect pool before I finished my next exhale.
I left him to it, following the distant echo of Cassy's laughter up the steps and into the golden-lit vestibule. Whispers flared and died among the marble columns as we entered, the palace's day staff making every effort not to stare openly. My reputation here was a double-edged sword: half the household feared the Silvermoon rage, the other half gossiped about it over espresso. I welcomed both. Cassy, however, deserved peace tonight—no shadows, no speculation. Just a bandage of normalcy to wrap over the bruise of that restaurant ambush.
I caught up to the girls at the second-floor corridor, halfway to the theater room. Nicki had slowed her pace to match Cassy's, her arm never leaving Cassy's side. For all her bravado, Nicki was the best kind of shield: invisible when you didn't need her, unbreakable when you did.
As I approached, Cassy turned, "You coming, or are you plotting world domination back there?" she teased, her smile softer now, more genuine. The lift in her voice stole at least half a kilo from the weight on my chest.
I ignored the jab and slipped my hand around Cassy's, entwining our fingers. The contact was electric—a simple circuit, but enough to recharge my battered shields. We walked the rest of the way in tandem, Nicki bounding ahead to commandeer the kitchen staff. Cassy pressed into my side, her warmth spreading through my bones with every step.
She leaned into me, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around mine. "Is Matt joining us?" Cassy looked back where we came from, a tiny furrow appearing between her brows.
I nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "Once he finishes some security checks. Standard protocol after..." I let the sentence hang, offering a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Nothing to worry about tonight."
Cassy let herself be swept along, and as the theater doors opened, the darkness within seemed to swallow up the world's ugly glare. The palace's cinema was nothing like the sticky-floored, popcorn-scented shoeboxes I remembered from my own childhood. It was a cavern of luxury—sable velvet recliners in staggered tiers, a screen large enough to make you feel like you'd been dropped onto the film set itself. Nicki bullied a staffer into bringing armloads of snacks—gummy worms, truffle popcorn, pints of ice cream—and then dragged Cassy to the seats she deemed optimal for "maximum surround sound and privacy." I hung back for a moment, scanning the empty aisles, my mind still half in the bistro's chaos, playing and replaying the moment Cassy's composure had crumpled beneath the assault of flashing bulbs.
The screen flickered to life with the palace's crest, then faded out as Nicki queued up some movie so obscure it might as well have been in another language. Onscreen, wolves in Victorian dress surreptitiously courted each other while plotting regicide; in the recliner beside me, Cassy burrowed into my side, her head tucked beneath my jaw. Her hand found mine and squeezed, a Morse code of gratitude and exhaustion. I exhaled, my eyes drifting from the screen to the curve of her cheek, the way the blue light painted her skin translucent and unreal.
Thirty minutes in, I realized she'd fallen asleep, her breath soft and even. Nicki, catching my eye, mimed zipping her lips and then wordlessly passed me a blanket to drape over Cassy's shoulders. I let my hand rest there, feeling the slow and steady beat of her pulse, and for the first time since the night began, I closed my own eyes, willing the images of flashbulbs and clutching hands to fade behind my lids.
Matt slid in an hour later, his footfalls soundless, face set in a grimace I knew too well. He eased into the seat behind mine and waited until the credits began their slow creep before tapping my shoulder. I shifted gently, not wanting to wake Cassy, but she stirred anyway, blinking up at me with a disoriented smile.
"Sorry," she mumbled, voice gummy with sleep. "Did I snore?"
"Not even a little," I lied, smoothing a stray curl back from her forehead.
Nicki, who'd devoured half a tub of cookie dough while watching the movie, picked up instantly on the shift in the room's air. "What'd you find?" she asked Matt, voice low, all traces of theater etiquette abandoned.
Matt's eyes flicked to Cassy, then to me. "Four staffers took calls from unknown numbers tonight. All said it was about food delivery. Two are clean, one is a dead end. The last—" He paused, glancing at Cassy again as if weighing whether she could handle it. She straightened a little, unbothered.
"Who?" she pressed, and I felt a jolt of pride at the steel in her voice.
Matt's mouth was a hard line. "It was Natalia."