Ava went back to bed after breakfast, and, reluctantly, he left her to it, this time. He just wanted to sit next to her until she was better, but he had another instinct, just as strong.

After everything she’d said, he needed to make sure she was safe.

Every member of the pride got paid a salary for their contribution. He used his for clothing, when he needed something new, and a phone, occasionally. That was about it. Over the years, a healthy amount had added up.

Still, he wasn’t sure how to contact the best private investigators out there, so he started researching it. He would have preferred to do it from his room, as Ava slept in his bed, but, as he didn’t own his own computer, he used the Enforcer office, across the hall from Rye’s.

Somehow, everyone had seen necessary to converge on that very room this morning. And they were looking at him. Or talking to him.

Nosy idiots.

“What the ever -fucking hell happened to you, man? It’s aliens, isn’t it? Just tell me. I can deal. If there’re body snatchers around, wink twice. I know you’re in there, mate.”

He just rolled his eyes, ignoring Daunte.

“I know I’m majorly pussy whipped, but it’s been less than twenty-four hours, and you’re practically wiping her ass for her. Come on, this is…”

“She’s probably my fated mate,” Coveney said conversationally, without bothering to lift his head from the computer he was working on.

He’d guessed as much the instant he’d seen her. Every second he spent in her presence made that theory seem more likely. Finally, feeling slightly annoyed at all the staring, he lifted his head.

It wasn’t just Daunte; Vivicia and Theo had also stopped pretending to look for something in his files, and were busy catching flies.

“What?”

“You know how rarely fated mates find each other? I mean, it’s not impossible, but two pairs in one pride would be insane.”

Insane or not, that was his reality. He wasn’t going to tell her until he was one hundred percent sure, but, right now, everything pointed to that theory. The way she felt so perfect against him. The way he wanted to bend his very soul to accommodate her. Every instant away from her seemed endless, and when she was near he wanted, needed, her closer.

Oh, and he wanted her. How he wanted her. He hadn’t so much as breathed a word about it, because if he voiced it, if he so much as flirted, or tried to act on it, he didn’t think he could hold himself back.

He needed to, though. That wound on her side was getting better, but she’d received it just a day ago. A human would have taken a month to recover; she’d be fine by tomorrow. Until then, he couldn’t, wouldn’t think about her luscious little body. Or her perfect tits.

He forced himself to remain seated.

“Maybe that’s because most shifters don’t meet anyone from other communities, or other countries. Still, the word fated suggests that life does set up a chance encounter. It’s just a matter of recognizing it for what it is.”

They seemed to digest that. Finally, Daunte nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll buy that. Still. You know how long it took Rye to work out that Ace was his?”

Coveney shrugged. “He didn’t analyze the information in front of him right away, is all. I actually guessed she might be his, the second time I saw you together. I figured she and Rye would catch on in their own time.”

It had seemed obvious to him.

“You looked as surprised, when we found them…”

“Because they had weird, glowing marks, and their eyes were bright as neon signs. That part, I hadn’t anticipated.”

He returned to his work, hoping that was the last of the distractions.

“Exactly how smart are you?” Daunte asked, making him smile.

He may or may not have graduated with a Master’s online at nineteen. The initial members of the pride knew that. They’d just forgotten it, or forgotten what it meant. Back when he had been a different person, before his banishment, he used to love solving puzzles, winning chess games in a few moves. Just because he was now their muscle didn’t mean he didn’t still have the highest IQ in the pride, at 144. They’d tested him in middle school, because he’d been so bored they’d figured he could stand to jump a few classes.

He knew better than to tell that to Daunte, though. The man would never leave it alone if he knew. Coveney just shrugged.

“Ace made a few calls already. The Flavia Dale are pretty big in Europe. Like, royalty big, amongst the shifters. They get visits from government officials; Rye’s father, our goddamn king, said they’re huge. If she manages to prove her family was right, if this whole First story is true, she might get back to her place, you know.”

He didn’t actually. Recalling how she’d said she was done with Dale, he doubted it.

“What will you do, then? You’d leave us?”

Everything in him recoiled at that very idea. If anyone had asked him whether he’d planned to leave the Wyverns yesterday, even while they were about to get massacred, his answer would have been no, never. He wouldn’t even have hesitated.

Now, he frowned, and stayed silent, utterly torn.

“This is a pointless conversation. You’re asking about the end of a movie as soon as the opening credits have rolled.”

He was being vague as shit, because he honestly didn’t have an answer. Daunte might very well have called him out on it, but, thankfully, they were interrupted.

They all felt it to their bones when their front door opened. They rushed out of the Enforcer office at the same time as Rye and Ace came out of theirs; Christine popped her head out from the living room.

They all stared in silence at the stranger who’d just pushed past their wards without activating them. He’d entered their home like it wasn’t locked under deadbolts, simply pushing the door open.

The man seemed to be in his twenties, older than Daunte, a little younger than Coveney, perhaps. He had blond hair on the longer side; it fell in front of his cold, piercing grey eyes without bothering him.

Anywhere, he would have stood out; not only because he looked like a goddamn movie star, but his presence seemed strange, eerie. He wore a fitted suit, and, more remarkable yet, there was a cane in his hand, although he walked easily, without a limp. He used it at each step, though. Each slow, predatory step.

Ace crossed the room, her hand extended, smiling at him.

“Knox.”