Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 435

KAEL

The car was too quiet.

This was worse than it sounded. When Nina, Jordan, and Elite were quiet together in a contained space, it wasn't the quiet of people who had nothing to say. It was the quiet of people who had collectively decided when to say it, who were organizing their approach with the specific patience of a group that had known me for twenty years and had developed methodologies.

I drove. This was deliberate — driving gave me something to do with my hands that wasn't other things, and gave me a forward-facing excuse that prevented me from reading all of their expressions simultaneously. I could see Nina in the passenger seat in my peripheral vision and both Jordan and Elite in the mirror when I needed to check the road behind us.

I checked the road behind us more than necessary.

The facility was two hours out. We had two hours of this car.

Elite was in the back looking at the tactical maps on her device. Jordan was beside her with the intelligence folder. Nina was in the front with her notebook.

Four minutes of silence.

Then Nina said: "Ivory."

"I know," I said.

"She's been—"

"I know," I said.

"The sixty-nine incidents and now—"

"I know, Nina."

Silence for approximately ninety seconds.

Jordan said: "Damon."

"I know," I said.

"His sighting near the third location is—"

"Confirmed," I said. "I read Elite's report."

"If he's inside the facility when we arrive—"

"I'll deal with it," I said.

"Deal with it how specifically," Jordan said.

"Specifically in the way that the situation requires at the time," I said. "Which I'll determine when I have complete information about the situation."

"That's not a plan," Jordan said.

"It's an approach," I said.

"An approach isn't a plan," Jordan said.

"Jordan," I said. "I've been on operations with incomplete plans before."

"You've also ripped two arms off in one day," Jordan said. "The planning quality has been variable."

I had nothing productive to say to this so I said nothing.

Silence for two minutes.

Then Nina said: "Killian."

"No," I said.

"Kael—"

"No," I said. "That topic is not available tonight."

"If the network we're dealing with has the capabilities we think it has," Nina said, "and if the curse's origin connects to people who had reasons to target Shadowmere specifically—"

"No," I said.

"He was your father's—"

"No," I said. "Nina. I'm asking you."

The word *asking* landed differently than the word *telling* would have. She heard the distinction. She was quiet for a moment.

"Later," she said.

"Later," I agreed.

Which wasn't never. It was later. She'd filed it.

Silence for three minutes. I watched the road and the mirror and the map on the dashboard and thought about the facility and what Vesper had told me and whether the structural information he'd given was accurate or whether he'd been trying to send us somewhere wrong, which would have been a significant miscalculation on his part but people in significant pain sometimes made significant miscalculations.

He'd been too scared to lie. I was confident of this. The specific quality of Vesper's fear in that room had been the genuine variety — not performance, not strategic fear designed to manipulate. Real fear, the kind that came from having had two arms and then having one and understanding that the situation could continue to progress if the information wasn't forthcoming.

Real fear produced accurate information. It was reliable in that way.

"Aria," Jordan said.

"What about her," I said.

"Just — Aria," Jordan said. "In general."

"In general she's at the pack waiting for contact," I said. "She has her instructions. She'll receive anything that comes through the anchor and report immediately. She's a resource being utilized correctly for the current situation."

"A resource," Nina said.

"An asset," I said. "A—"

"She's your mate," Nina said. "She's not an asset."

"I'm using the operational framing," I said.

"You're avoiding the personal framing," Jordan said. "Which is what you always do when the personal framing is inconvenient."

"The personal framing is not relevant to the operational—"

"The wolf," Elite said, from the back, without looking up from her tactical maps.

Everyone in the car waited.

"Is relevant," Elite said. "To the operational."

"The wolf is managed," I said.

"The wolf," Elite said, in the same even tone, "was pressing against a bolted door an hour ago because Ivory had been taken. If the wolf's integration is incomplete and the integration is affected by the people the wolf has formed attachments to and the wolf has not yet formed an attachment to Aria—"

"I'm working on it," I said.

"Working on it," Elite said, "isn't a status update."

"It's the accurate status," I said.

"How," Elite said.

"How what."

"How are you working on it," she said. "What does working on it look like. Specifically."

I had nothing to say to this that was both honest and something I wanted to say out loud in a car with three people who were going to file everything I said under evidence in their ongoing assessment of my personal situation.

"It's a process," I said.

"That's less specific than working on it," Elite said.

"Elite," I said.

"I'm asking operationally," she said. "If the wolf's integration is incomplete and a significant threat event occurs during the facility operation—"

"I'll manage it," I said.

"With what mechanism," she said.

"The same mechanism I used in the office," I said. "The bond. The connection. She—" I stopped.

Nobody said anything. They were waiting with the specific patience of a group that had been gathering information all evening and had identified the thread they wanted to pull.

"She reached me through the bond in the office," I said. "The wolf — responded to it. Pulled back from the edge. The bond has a steadying effect on the integration when the man and the wolf are in conflict."

"So the bond with Aria," Nina said carefully, "functions as a stabilizing mechanism for your wolf's integration issues."

"That's the practical observation," I said.