Page 68 of Mayhem

Ronan leaned forward, attention fixed on her now. “You know which entries connect to each other.”

“I built most of the connections.” Echo tapped two marks on opposite pages. “These look unrelated unless you know the second person got access through the first one. That favor led to another family, which led to a professor, which led to somebody in admissions. The book kept track of what happened. I kept track of why it mattered.”

Desmond’s words came back with irritating clarity. We got the records. Never got control of the operation.

I looked at Echo standing there with the ledger open in bloodstained hands and finally understood what his people had failed to acquire.

“They didn’t need the book,” I said, and Ronan’s eyes came to mine before Echo’s did. “They needed you.”

Echo closed the ledger slowly.

Everything Ronan had found shifted around that fact. Organized searches, money spent across multiple channels, people continuing to look for Echo after Westbridge collapsed. Desmond had wanted the operation. The Quorum had obtained the physical records and discovered they had taken possession of a code without the person who could read it.

I did not know yet whether my father personally ordered anyone to hunt her. I knew enough to stop treating the possibility like coincidence.

Echo looked down at the ledger before meeting my eyes again. “If you’re about to tell me this changes the Nichlas deal, save your breath.”

“Nichlas is still yours.” I picked up my whiskey and finished it, watching the suspicion replace whatever argument she had prepared. “That isn’t the part of the deal I’m changing.”

Ronan went quiet beside us.

I set the glass down and faced her fully. “You’re under my protection now. Not because you need permission to breathe or because I suddenly think you can’t handle yourself. My father wanted control of something that only works if he controls the information in your head, and somebody spent months trying to find you after his people failed to get it.”

Echo’s gaze hardened. “You already promised me Nichlas.”

“I know.” I let the grin come because she still had not understood what I meant. “If my father wanted what’s in your head badly enough for somebody to hunt you over it, I know damn well you’ve got more names you’re going to want eventually. Nichlas is just the priority.”

For the first time since I had met her, Echo had absolutely nothing to say.

Hunter

I was halfway across the east quad when Ronan called. I had one hand around the strap of my bag and exactly eleven minutes to get to class, which would have been manageable if my life had stopped producing problems for more than an hour at a time. I answered without slowing, expecting an update on Nichlas from the doctor or another piece of Westbridge information.

Ronan skipped both. “Nichlas was moved.”

I stopped in the middle of the walkway while students split around me. “Moved where?”

“Quorum medical property off campus. Authorization went through under your name about forty minutes ago.” His voice stayed level, which usually meant he had already moved past being angry and into the part where somebody else needed to worry. “You didn’t authorize it.”

It was not a question. I turned away from the academic building and started walking in the opposite direction. “Who did?”

“Camille used a legacy approval attached to her family credentials. Someone in medical accepted it because the request was routed through Hansen security and she said the protection arrangement had changed after last night.” Ronan paused long enough for me to hear keys moving beneath his voice. “We know where Nichlas is. He hasn’t left the property yet, and I’ve already frozen the transfer beyond that location.”

That saved one problem from becoming two. “Get him back under our people. Don’t bother calling Camille.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

I ended the call and changed direction again.

My class could survive without me. Camille was about to learn whether she could.

The route to Echo’s building took less than five minutes if I cut through the administration courtyard. By the time I reached it, the anger had settled into something cleaner. Camille had spent years assuming proximity to my family translated into proximity to my authority. I had tolerated more of that than I should have because most of it was annoying rather than consequential. She inserted herself into dinners, spoke as if future plans were already settled, and treated access she had inherited through our families as though I had personally granted it.

I had made myself clear before.

Apparently clarity had not been enough.

The stupid part was that Echo listened better.