"I have been sitting in this chair for an hour."
"I know. I just, I was thinking."
The matebond spiked. Guilt. Right on schedule. Hale felt it land in his chest like a stone dropped from a height.
He kept his voice even. "Where were you?"
"Checking on Gav."
She said it immediately. Without hesitation. Without the pause that would have indicated deception. She said it because it was true, and the truth was the most damning piece of evidence in Hale’s file, because a woman hiding an affair would have lied, and Elara was telling the truth, which meant whatever she was feeling for Gavriel Sterling was genuine enough that she saw no reason to hide the visits.
She was hiding the reason. She was telling the truth about the destination.
"How is he?" Hale asked, and his voice was so steady it frightened him, because the steadiness was discipline and the discipline was the only thing keeping his wolf from howling.
"The same. Still unconscious. Vitals are stable. Alaric says the coma could lift any day."
She moved toward the dressing room. Paused. Looked back at him.
"Do you want to come visit him with me later? I was going to check on him again before dinner."
Hale’s jaw worked. She was inviting him. She was inviting him to the room where she spent her secret mornings, and the invitation was either transparency or cover, and Hale could not tell which because the matebond was delivering love and guilt in equal measure and the combination was making him insane.
"Sure," he said.
"Great." She smiled. The smile was genuine, warm, carrying the affection of a woman who loved her mate and was happy he would join her, and the warmth made the conclusion worse because the warmth was real and the guilt was also real and both things were coexisting in a way that made Hale want to punch a wall.
He did not punch a wall. He stroked Avalon’s head and breathed through his nose and reminded himself that he was a Beta, and Betas did not act on incomplete intelligence, and the intelligence was incomplete, and the investigation was ongoing.
✦✦✦
DRAKENFELL — GAMMA QUARTERS
They went together. Before dinner. As planned.
Hale walked beside Elara through the corridor leading to Gavriel’s chambers, and his stride was measured, and his hands were clasped behind his back, and his posture was the posture of a man attending a briefing he did not want to attend but had determined was necessary for operational clarity.
Elara pushed the door open. The room was dim. Fire low. Gav was in his bed, breathing steadily, color returned, still unconscious. The bandage on his shoulder was fresh, because Elara had changed it this morning at five AM while Hale was in their bed pretending to be asleep and cataloguing the exact duration of her absence.



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