Page 97 of Claim of Blood
Oren’s attention never wavered. “The new system is in place,” he continued smoothly, as though nothing had happened. “I’d like to walk you both through it.”
Leo nodded, grateful for the lifeline. His thoughts were a mess—his body worse—but at least Oren was steady, grounding him by sheer force of presence.
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Gaspard’s gaze still lingered, curious and unreadable, but Leo ignored it. He squared his shoulders and followed Oren toward the security wing, one step at a time, leaving blood, heat, and confusion behind him.
Work. Focus. That was all he could afford right now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Leo
ThesecurityroomhitLeo like something out of a sci-fi film—sleek, modern, dominated by a curved wall of monitors that created a cocoon of surveillance. Each screen flickered with crystal-clear images, hundreds of feeds painting a living portrait of the estate.
The transformation was remarkable. Gone were the towers of empty coffee cups and energy drinks, the chaotic clutter that had turned Oren’s workspace into a shrine to stimulants. Now everything was pristine, orderly, professional—though Leo still noticed three thermoses lined up with military precision beside Oren’s chair.
He tried to focus on the impressive display, but his mind kept drifting back to the basement. Let me know what Adam says to that. Lander’s voice echoed in his ears. Leo shifted, hyperaware of the lingering evidence on his body. He caught Gaspard’s nose twitch before the vampire’s expression smoothed into polite neutrality.
“Welcome to the upgrade,” Oren said. His quiet voice carried a thread of pride as he gestured to the display. The leather of his shoulder holster creaked as he moved to the central console. “This isn’t just about quantity. We’ve tripled coverage, but it’s the intelligence that matters.”
Gaspard whistled low, momentarily dropping his aristocratic reserve as he leaned in. “The resolution alone is remarkable.”
“The resolution is just the beginning.” Oren’s fingers moved across the touchscreen, and the feeds reorganized in fluid precision. “The AI can distinguish not just between human and supernatural, but between shifters and natural counterparts.”
Leo blinked. His hunter training cut through the mental fog. Surveillance. Security. Tactical analysis. Familiar territory. “That’s... possible? To tell a wolf from a werewolf through video?”
“Heat signatures, movement patterns, micro-expressions.” Oren pulled up a split screen. Two identical wolves. Small highlighted boxes began marking subtle differences Leo might have missed. “The pack helped calibrate it. Nathaniel was particularly involved.”
“I bet he was,” Gaspard murmured, earning a sharp glance from Oren.
“The system’s already cataloging,” Oren continued, pulling up a live feed of the northern boundary. Red boxes tracked human movement; blue marked supernatural signatures. “It’s learning. Adapting. By the time Emilia arrives, it’ll have built a baseline for witch signatures.”
Leo moved closer. His instincts engaged despite the turmoil churning under his skin. “This could revolutionize territory monitoring.” The words slipped out before he could catch them. His stomach dropped. “I mean—shit. I hope my clan never gets access to this. Any clan.” He raked a hand through his hair. “The potential for abuse is...”
Oren’s soft chuckle held no amusement. “The technology is proprietary,” he said, eyes on the screens. Leo noticed the slight shift in Oren’s posture—reassuring, shielding. “Trained in-house. We’ve been developing it for years. Recent hunter activity in Innsbrook gave us the final push to finish.”
“Recent hunter activity,” Gaspard echoed, tone dry. “Polite way of putting it.”
“I prefer precision to poetry,” Oren replied, calling up another feed. He still wasn’t looking at Leo—an intentional courtesy Leo appreciated. He was still figuring out how to be Adam’s claim without feeling like a traitor.
“The mobile interface,” Oren said, pulling a sleek phone from his pocket, “is where theory meets practice.” His movements were exact. “The internal share-site is secured behind three layers of encryption. You’ll need the VPN first.”
The screen lit up under his fingers, revealing security layers dense enough to make corporate IT departments cry. Leo leaned in. His training cataloged every protection automatically—even as another part of him registered how naturally Oren had included him. Like his input mattered.
“The app is closed-loop,” Oren said. “Network-only. Coded to specific devices.”
“Smart,” Leo murmured, then caught himself. Was he supposed to comment? But Oren nodded, approving. Leo felt a flicker of confidence.
“Phones,” Oren said, hand outstretched. Under the overhead lights, his face looked harder to read. Gaspard handed his over without hesitation. Leo paused—old instincts clashing with new roles—then gave in. Oren’s lips twitched, but he didn’t comment.
“It takes about three minutes,” Oren said, connecting the phones to a black box on the console. “It creates an encrypted key unique to your device and ID.”
Gaspard leaned on the console, casting tall shadows on the monitors. “So if we lose our phones...?”
“You come to me,” Oren said, his voice brooking no argument. “The protocols for lost devices are absolute.”
Leo’s phone buzzed first, then Gaspard’s. Oren returned them, now displaying a minimalist grid of feeds. Leo stared at his screen. He had access to the Court’s security system. Not as a prisoner. Not as a guest. As someone they trusted.
