Page 37 of Something Worth Keeping
“He called the hypothetical action stupid,” Silas corrected. “There’s a meaningful distinction.”
“Can we focus?” Thorn’s voice cut through the room. “Vane’s deployment is escalating, and his use of obsidian chains is still a huge unknown factor. We need to move soon.”
“How soon?” Julian asked as they moved into the other room.
“Seventy-two hours. Maybe less.” Thorn pulled up a holographic display from the tactical table, shadows projecting warehouse locations across the wall. “He’s consolidating assets, preparing for something big.”
Julian moved closer to the display, studying the pattern. “These distribution points follow the old transport routes. When this district was active, these buildings were all connected by underground tunnels for moving product between facilities.”
Four pairs of eyes fixed on Julian.
“The tunnels still exist?” Silas asked sharply.
“Partially. Some collapsed, some were sealed, but the main arterial routes are probably still accessible. I wrote a paper on the industrial architecture of the Madison warehouse district as part of my graduate program.” Julian pointed to three locations. “These three buildings definitely had tunnel access. If Vane is using the old infrastructure, he could move personnel and supplies without surface exposure.”
Thorn and Silas exchanged glances.
“That explains how he’s been avoiding our surveillance,” Silas said.
“Get me the paper,” Thorn ordered. “Schematics, tunnel maps, everything you might have.”
“I have an archived copy on my laptop.” Julian gestured to his bag. “I’ll pull the files now.”
As Julian moved to retrieve his computer, Cillian caught Thorn’s eye. His brother gave him a slight nod - approval and acknowledgment that Cillian had been right. Julian wasn’t just worth protecting. He was already invaluable.
Chapter Thirteen
Julian’s laptop screen illuminated Cillian’s third-floor quarters as he uploaded the final tunnel schematic to the secure server. The room was larger than Julian’s entire apartment, but it followed a similar theme to the rest of the living quarters. There were exposed brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the warehouse district, but more importantly, and to Julian more significantly, a bed that could accommodate Cillian’s massive frame with room to spare. Its mere presence was distracting in a positive way.
“The files are transferred,” Julian announced, closing the laptop. “Thorn has everything now.”
Cillian stood by the window, silhouetted against the city lights. His shadows pooled around his feet, restless. “Good. That’s good.”
Julian studied his mate’s rigid posture. Cillian had been tense since they’d left the tactical room three hours ago, his barely held control stretched thin to the point of breaking. The mate bond pulsed between them - Julian could feel Cillian’s need like static electricity before a storm.
“You’re still processing the alley,” Julian observed.
Cillian’s shoulders tightened. “I lost it. You saw…”
“I saw you protect me with overwhelming efficiency.” Julian set the laptop aside and stood. “Your response was proportionate to the threat level. Three armed assailants with demonstrated willingness to use lethal force. Your escalation was justified.”
“I tore them apart.” Cillian’s voice dropped to something rough andancient. “I wanted to make it last. Make them suffer for touching you.”
“They hurt me first. Cause and effect.” Julian crossed the room until he stood directly behind Cillian. “You’re catastrophizing because you’re worried I’m afraid to be alone with you. I’m not. We established this in the alley.”
Cillian turned, and his eyes were pure void - no grey, just endless black. “You should be afraid. What I am, what I’m capable of…”
“Is clearly exactly what I need.” Julian reached up and touched Cillian’s jaw, feeling the barely contained power thrumming beneath human skin. “You’re an apex predator whose primary drive is protecting his mate. That’s not frightening, that’s logical.”
The shadows around Cillian’s feet surged upward, wrapping aroundJulian’s ankles, seeking the connection.
“They want to touch you,” Cillian said roughly. “I want to touch you. I’ve been trying to be careful, to court you properly, but after today…”
“After today, you need physical confirmation that I’m safe.” Julian tilted his head. “That’s a reasonable biological response to threat-induced stress. The mate bond is demanding reassurance.”
“Julian…”
“I want you to touch me,” Julian stated it as fact, clear and direct. “I’ve wanted that since the coffee shop. Possibly since the alley where we met, though my cognitive framework for that desire was underdeveloped at the time.”
