Page 50 of Caged

“She’s not there. I triple checked. Even went through state-specific registries in case she was added locally somewhere else, and her absence on the federal branch is a fluke. Nothing.”

Caelan furrows his brows, rubbing his thumb back and forth across his lower lip. His gaze is distant, and I’d do anything to know what the hell is running through his head right now.

“I’d like to circle back to what you aren’t telling me about this Omega, Caelan.” Despite sounding like a request, Gav isn’t asking.

Just like me, he’s noticing the red flags and is now in full interrogation mode.

Caelan’s jaw is clenched tight, the muscles in his neck working overtime. I can feel his reticence through the Bond, and it makes me more suspicious.

“I was getting to that,” he replies in a clipped tone. “It felt like….” He trails off, and I can see him actually considering how much he’s willing to share.

“When I saw her on the balcony, it felt like I got a hit of adrenaline straight to the heart. I was jittery. Protective. Felt like I had no control over my Alpha instincts.”

He shrugs, downplaying his admission, but his words sound rehearsed.

His performance might fool someone else, but I’ve known him for fucking centuries. He isn’t just flirting with denial; he’s moved in with it and changed his mailing address.

Even more proof that I’m right to be suspicious of this Omega.

Caelan doesn’t react to people. He’s stoic, calm. He doesn’t just survive the storm—he is the storm. The male is built for handling worst-case scenarios with a cool head. He’s not like Vae, who feels everything and does a piss poor job of hiding it. Nor is he like me, with my short fuse and long memory, always one step away from blowing shit up if it doesn’t do what I want.

Caelan rarely displays the kind of Alpha aggression that Vae and I do. I honestly can’t even imagine how unsettled he must have felt last night, having his instincts trip like a landmine over a human female.

“So let me get this straight,” Gavran’s tone is dry as a desert as he holds up a hand, ticking off each point with increasing irritation. “One: Dax’s drones go haywire around the Varenthrall estate, leading him to believe we’re dealing with wards we’ve never seen before. Two: Caelan loses his shit over a human female who, technically, doesn’t exist on paper⁠—”

“I did not lose my shit,” Caelan snaps. His fangs gleam in the firelight, more proof he’s not thinking clearly.

Gav stares him down with that heavy amber gaze. “Right, sure. You just felt the early stages of a protective Alpha rage for the first time in, what? Five hundred years? Completely on brand for you.”

He folds down another finger. “Three: The next night, Daxen’s tech glitches again, at a different location. Four: Vaelenor’s Bone Curse goes off like a sleeper agent because he smells magic he’s only encountered once. I’ve got two of my best warriors grappling with instincts they haven’t touched in centuries. I’ve got a magical ward without any kind of traceable signature, and ancient magic resurfacing that no one’s seen since the godsdamned 1500’s.”

His pause is calculated and heavy. “Am I missing anything?”

Uneasy glances are exchanged around the room, but no one speaks. Vae crosses his arms and tips his chair until it’s balancing on the back two legs. He looks like he’d rather chew glass than be the first one to speak.

Caelan’s still as stone, barely breathing. I can’t feel him in the Bond at all now, which is somehow worse than if he broadcast his feelings for the entire room.

My eyes dart around the room, landing basically everywhere except for directly on Gavran. When my gaze flicks to Silas, I see that fucking look in his eyes again.

“So what I’m hearing is,” Silas drawls, a huge shit-eating grin spreading across his face, “I’m the most emotionally stable one at this table.”

“No,” we all answer simultaneously.

I roll my neck and exhale. I need to shift back to strategy mode, try and get this shit show back on track. There are too many questions that need answers. Too many moving pieces that don’t make sense. I can’t stand it.

“We need to get eyes back on that estate. There are too many coincidences, and we still don’t know if any of this ties back to the missing Omegas. The wards. The ghost girl⁠—”

“Idril.” Caelan barks.

Vae’s chair thuds onto all four legs as Silas lets out a long whistle.

I roll my eyes. “Really? You’re going to police my words now?”

“I’m asking you to show some basic respect,” he snaps back.

“Listen. You don’t know this girl. You watched her on a balcony for like ten minutes⁠—”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s a person.”