He feels like the entire world is in the palm of his hand. She seems happy, too. And mystified by her own happiness, as though the feeling is something new and foreign. It has him wondering whether he could make this work. She’s not Were, and her lack of familiarity could be a blessing. She wouldn’t need to know the full truth, which in turn would ensure her freedom.
Lowe leans back against the trunk of his car in what seems to be the official position of performative harmlessness—crossed ankles, relaxed shoulders, his best I-may-be-one-powerful-Were-but-I-have-no-intention-of-brawling-with-you air.
I settle next to him as Owen and Gabi make their way to us, trying to ignore my heart pounding in my chest. I nearly startle when Lowe laces his hand with mine.
“You’re trembling,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know why.” Except that I do. “I’m cold, I think.”
He pulls me closer—the best he can do, since I’m already wearing his sweater. I’m immediately enveloped in that toasty warmth his body always welcomes me with, and the scent of his heartbeat is delicious in my nostrils. Lowe peers at me like he knows something’s off.
I brace myself for . . . I don’t know. Seeing Lowe reunited with his mate is something that requires preparation from me. I’ve sunk way too deep into this thing between us.
“I asked you to fuck it out.” Owen’s voice is flat and annoyed, but no more than usual. “And yet, here you are. Subjecting me to this.”
“Owen,” Lowe warns. His eyes linger on me for another instant, concerned, then flicker to my brother’s. “A pleasure.”
“Learn from Gabrielle and me,” Owen continues. “We live together at the Nest, but haven’t developed unnecessary feelings for each other or any kind of sexual attraction. We cultivate a relationship of mild collaboration at best, severe indifference on average.”
“Gabi.” Lowe’s nod is warm, cordial, surprisingly neutral.
She’s a beautiful woman, with glossy dark hair and the patient expression that people forced to deal with Owen for any length of time tend to acquire. She briefly dips her head, like all of Lowe’s seconds do when they see him. “Nice to see you, Alpha. Everything okay at home?” There’s affection and respect in the words. I read nothing else.
“For the most part.”
“Good to hear.” She gives me a curious look. Her eyes briefly dart down, and I don’t have to follow them to know they’re on Lowe’s and my joined hands.
A thought strikes me like a bolt—he might be using me to make her jealous. I let it poison my brain for a moment, then dismiss it. Lowe would never stoop to those kinds of plays.
“How lovely,” Owen says drily. “In significantly less wholesome news, no luck on the security footage outside Serena’s place yet. We were hoping to get a good view from the apartment complex in front of hers, but the cameras were tampered with.”
Lowe frowns. “Only for the date of the break-in?”
“Correct.”
I frown. “How?”
Owen shrugs. “What do you mean?”
“How did the tampering occur? Was it software? Hardware? Did they paintball the lens or trip the circuit breaker or cut the data cable?”
“I’m not certain. My guy did mention, but . . .” Owen waves his hand. “Technical witchcraft that nobody could understand aside, it’s clear that—”
“Jammers,” Gabi says, and smiles when I give her a surprised look.
“They disrupted the signal?”
“Likely used a radio frequency detector to figure out the broadcast.”
It’s the sophisticated way. The one someone with resources would use. Someone who works for powerful people and is looking for clues on the whereabouts of a journalist on the run. It would fit with Lowe’s theory, for sure. “Crafty,” I say.
“Right?” She grins. Owen and Lowe exchange a commiserating look. “I know this has nothing to do with me,” Gabi continues, “but Owen is the only person who’ll talk to me at the Nest. He told me about your friend, and I’m sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, the uncertainty.”
Her words are disorienting, because no one else has said them to me before. In my quest to find Serena, people have helped me, mocked me, dismissed me, nudged me, but no one has stopped to tell me they were sorry. A thick feeling rises to my throat. “Thank you.”
Owen makes a gagging sound. “How touching. Moving on to more entertaining topics and the reason for this meeting.” His lilac eyes settle into mine. “I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”
I must have misheard. “What?”
“I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”
Nope, I heard correctly. “Did Father . . . die?”
Owen tilts his head. “Do you think I would neglect to inform you if Father died? Actually, I could see myself doing that. No, Father is alive. But I am in disagreement with many of his decisions of late. Many. I think I could do better, and I decided to make a bid for his seat. I’d love your support.”
“My support?” I push away from the car and disentangle from Lowe, facing my brother. My cuckoo-bananas brother. “Making a bid? That’s not a thing people do.”
He shrugs. “It’s a thing I’m doing.”
“How?”
“I’m happy to share my plan in detail. In two weeks, at the annual meeting, I plan to—”
“Do not share.” I look between Lowe and Gabi, who seem engrossed in our exchange. “You know what the punishment for high treason is?” He must, because I do, and I never know shit. But I do remember what happened when I was seven and Councilwoman Selamio’s brother tried to steal her birthright from her, or when Councilman Khatri died suddenly, without naming which one of his two sons would inherit the position.
Slaughter, that’s what happened. Lots of purple spatter. Father would never react to having his seat usurped with anything but bloodshed. And by his lazy, hedonistic son? “He’s not just a member, Owen. He’s the leader of the council.”
“Unofficial.”
“Bullshit.”
“And anyway,” he continues like he didn’t hear me, “his prominent position could be in my favor. Lots of councilmembers are dissatisfied with the way he’s been seizing power.”
Wild. Buck wild. “Who knows about this?”
“I have been slowly spinning a web of allies. Establishing tactical collaborations.”
He’s dead. My only sibling left is as good as dead. “Why?”
“It seemed prudent.”
I pinch my nose, because—fuck. Fuck. “Do you even want to be a councilman?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not? Could be fun.”
“Owen. Just . . .” I bury my face in my hands and Lowe stands from the hood of the car, coming to massage my shoulders in this moment of desperate need. I suppose he’s trying to be comforting, but I feel his amusement in my bones.
Maybe I could punch him and Owen. Just a little bit. Wouldn’t that make me feel better?
Yes. Yes, it would.
“Misery. My sister.” He shifts to the Tongue. “You are displaying more feelings than usual. Are you not well?”
I straighten and take a deep breath. Even though Owen and I were born three minutes apart, clearly I’m the adult. “Listen, I’m really trying to find that bitch Serena, and I’ve grown really fond of Lowe’s annoying little shit of a sister. Unfortunately, they’re both really good at getting themselves in trouble. So if you could avoid making my life even harder because of some half-assed plan you put together two hours ago out of spit and shoelaces—”
“Three months ago.”