“No one wants to live like that,” Rafe said.“She’s not hiding because she’s guilty.She’s hiding because she’s scared.”
Dorian was quiet for a beat.Then, “You feel it, too.”
It wasn’t a question.
Rafe exhaled slowly through his nose.“Yeah.”
More than he wanted to.
Seeing her in person was worse than the file.Worse than the photos.Those had been flat, two-dimensional things that told him nothing beyond bone structure and recorded facts.
This was different.
The reaction was immediate and unwelcome—a sharp spike of focus that dragged his attention down to a single point in the world and refused to let go.His wolf surged, offended by distance, irritated by restraint, already cataloging threats that had nothing to do with Chimera or hybrid hubs.
It took effort not to bare his teeth.
“Easy,” Dorian muttered, catching the shift.
“I am,” Rafe snapped back, then forced his shoulders to ease.“Doesn’t mean I like it.”
They didn’t move.
Didn’t approach.
Didn’t give her a reason to bolt.
That was the job.
E.S.E.didn’t swoop in on civilians, didn’t spook targets when confirmation mattered.They watched.They verified.They waited until certainty replaced instinct.
Still, something gnawed at him.
“The Bears are nervous,” Dorian said quietly.“And Kamon and Rune said that the leaks are accelerating.”
Rafe’s grip tightened on the edge of the rooftop.“Victor mentioned it.”
“The leaks are just fragments of data and information, not full dumps,” Dorian continued.“Enough to draw attention but not enough to burn the source.”
“Someone’s burying answers faster than we can ask questions,” Rafe said.
The words tasted wrong.
That wasn’t Chimera behavior.Chimera buried its mistakes.It didn’t invite scrutiny.
Below them, the café door opened.Riley flinched—subtle, but there—and Rafe’s chest tightened hard enough to make his ribs protest.
His wolf snarled.
Not at her.Never at her.
At the world.
“She’s been hurt,” Rafe said, the certainty landing heavy and unwelcome.“Recently.”
Dorian followed his gaze.“You sure?”
“Yeah.”