16. Oliver

“Lookie who I see.”

Sophia”s eyes gleam with a reckless kind of courage as she nods toward Councilman Gerard Kray, who stands like a king in his court, a circle of his employees and hangers-on around him. My pulse quickens; it”s not fear but the electric thrill of a challenge that sets my blood racing.

”We need to shake him up, Oliver,” Sophia insists, her voice low but edged with steel. ”He’s too comfortable, thinks he’s untouchable.”

I scan the crowd, noting how they part for Kray like he”s some kind of prophet. His smug assurance grates on me. But Sophia”s right; it”s time to knock him off balance.

”Alright,” I say, my voice betraying none of the tension that coils tight in my gut. ”But we do this together.”

Sophia”s lips curve in a half-smile that”s full of confidence. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

We cross the room, and I can feel the shift in the air as eyes follow our every step. Kray is cagey and he”ll sense the trap before we spring it—if we”re not careful.

As we approach, Kray”s gaze latches onto Sophia with an interest that sets my teeth on edge. She meets his stare unflinchingly, her shoulders squared in a silent challenge.

”Kray,” I greet him with a nod.

”Oliver, Sophia,” he says, his voice dripping with charm, ”You’ve been a bit difficult to get in touch with. I just hope your work with young Lord Faulkner here has been…rewarding. I’m certain you’ve been quite resourceful.”

Sophia tilts her head, playing the part of the ingénue while her eyes flash with something dangerous. ”I”ve learned from the best,” she replies with a pointed look that includes us both.

Kray”s smile thins as he picks up on the underlying tension. He knows we”re here for more than pleasantries.

”I must say,” Sophia continues, ”The history of the Gala fascinating—and tied much more closely to the Faulkner legacy than I ever knew.”

“Anything you want to share?” Kray responds, leaning in almost imperceptibly--as though he’s sniffing at dangling bait only the two of them can see. I keep my face neutral but can”t help feeling a surge of pride at Sophia”s play.

He still thinks she’s working for him.

This is Sophia’s gambit, and while every instinct screams for me to pull her back, to shield her from what’s to come, I stand firm beside her. Trust isn’t just given; it’s built, choice by choice, and right now Sophia is making hers clear. She’s armed with nothing but her wits and the hope that Kray will slip up.

The weight of leadership bears down on me—always has—but now there’s more at stake than power or pride. There’s Sophia—brilliant, brave Sophia—who sees through games and posturing to the heart of things—into the heart of a person, even those with shriveled ones like Kray.

”You’ve known my family intimately for so long. I doubt there’s any secret you don’t already know,” I laugh, keeping my tone light. ” I know you and my father have been friends for decades. Surely you have stories about him you could share. The man is a legend, after all.”

Kray”s smile doesn’t falter but there’s a new calculation in his eyes—a recognition that he’s no longer the only hunter in this room. But he laughs instead and launches into a tale about some boardroom confrontation that happened twenty years ago. It’s designed to deflect my inquiry and bore me to tears.

Which it does.

As Sophia keeps Kray engaged with her probing conversation, my attention drifts to the edges of the room where people are covered by shadows.

There’s Irene, her silhouette unmistakable, even at a distance. She”s talking to a tall man whose face is lost to the dim light, his presence more a suggestion than a certainty. Not her husband. Not someone on the security team. Who?

Excusing myself with a nod to Sophia that says, ”I”ll be right back,” I weave through the throng of guests. The instinct to protect my family—no matter how strained our bonds—propels me forward.

But as I draw near, the shadowy figure seems to sense my approach. He whispers something to Irene, and they part ways, He quickly slips deeper into the crowd while Irene makes a beeline for the ladies” room.

I quicken my pace, reaching the spot where they stood moments before. The air feels charged with static as though the remnants of their conversation linger. It’s either that or a magical incantation of some sort. Was the man fae? A mage? I pause outside the ladies” room, debating whether to confront Irene when she emerges.

The elusive nature of our enemies makes them almost spectral—here one moment and gone the next. And Irene... how deep is she in this? I would have thought after being confronted with the evidence yesterday that she’d be on her best behavior but I may be wrong. My sister”s secrets are layers upon layers—each one peeled back only reveals another.

The Covenant”s grasp on her may mean she can’t let go. She said she was protecting me and part of me wants to reject her protection. The other part of me softens at my sister’s concern.

My hands clench into fists at my sides. We”re supposed to be family—supposed to trust each other against threats from outside. But here I am, doubting her, feeling like I”m chasing shadows within my own ranks.

I turn back toward the heart of the Gala, ready to regroup with Sophia and share what little I”ve gleaned. But when my gaze sweeps over the crowd where I left her with Kray, they”re gone.

The beat of music has swelled, filling spaces between bodies that move with more abandon as the night deepens. But amidst the revelry, there”s an undercurrent of absence—a sudden thinning of ranks that sets my nerves on edge.

Where did everyone go? Why did they leave? The questions ricochet in my skull as I scan faces and spaces for any sign of Sophia or Kray.

I push through dancers and dodge waiters bearing trays of drinks, each step quickening with urgency. She can handle herself; I know this as surely as I know my own strength. But knowing isn”t seeing, and right now, I need eyes on her. Wolf eyes…and a wolf’s sense of smell.

But even with heightened awareness, there’s no sign of Sophia or Kray. No rustle of fabric or murmur of voices to lead me in their pursuit. The crowd is getting wilder as the moon rises. It’s true that the moon stirs something in the Lycan heart but shifting is always a choice. And there are all kinds of paranormals here tonight. We’re not the only ones who worship the moon.

I reach out to Sophia through our connection, but there is nothing but silence. Odd but not impossible. We are newly mated—and the bond will deepen over time.

I stand frozen on the balcony, scanning the sea of glittering lights and shadows below.

I try to calm the storm within, to think like the leader I”m supposed to be. The Covenant is playing a game with high stakes, and we”ve just upped the ante. If they”ve got Sophia? If Kray took her to them?

I was so focused on Irene, dammit. I shouldn’t have left Sophia’s side.

I find a quiet corner and close my eyes, reaching out along that invisible line that ties us together. Sophia? I call out silently, pouring all my focus into the effort. Sophia, if you can hear me.…

But there”s nothing—no echo in the void, no whisper of her presence. It”s as if she”s been wiped from existence, leaving behind only silence where there should be warmth and light.

My pulse quickens with dread; psychic silence isn”t just unusual—it”s alarming. It means one of two things: either she”s too far away or... No, I refuse to consider the alternative.

I open my eyes to the gilded edges of Ravencourt’s high society milling about in blissful ignorance. They don’t see the cracks forming beneath our feet—the signs of an impending quake that could swallow us all. I need to find her.

Sophia! I call out again through our bond as I push past a laughing couple adorned in finery fit for royalty. Please... give me something.

But there”s still no answer—just silence where her voice should be.