Page 158 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“We’ll be on the next flight,” Kit said finally, before murmuring to someone else. Frantic keyboard typing echoed through the line—Felix, no doubt. “But listen, I rang Terrier to tell him something. Something important. When he was talking about Dev’s skull, how it looked like it had been cut open… it picked at something in me buried deep. I didn’t say anything much at the time. But then all night I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You know that I was in the military, right? Not the actual military, but a black ops unit?”
“Right. Terrier’s told me a little.”
“A lot of it… especially the beginning… it’s all a blur. But last night, in bed, I found myself touching my head. Right where you described.”
My pulse quickened. “And?”
“And it’s so faint it’s no wonder I’ve never noticed before, but I have the tiniest bump of scar tissue. Noctule even shaved my hair to see it.”
“Christ. What does this mean?”
“It means this is the same people I worked for,” Kit said, disgust colouring his voice. “Thoughworked foris the wrong term. It was more like they owned me. They called us GREY. Greywatch Reconnaissance and Elimination Unit. I won’t go into specifics of what they had us do, but let’s say I’m not surprised they’ve had to resort to these… methods to get more men. All of my unit managed to escape. The ones… the ones that lived.” Kit paused. “But what you probably don’t know is how I got involved in GREY in the first place.”
“Rory was actually talking about it the other day… about how Alex’s deceased wife was a bit of a black sheep and set it all up for you.”
“Yes. Moira Thorne.”
There was a tiny silence. Then it clicked.
“Do you think… do you thinkIslais working with them? GREY? Meridian?”
I wanted to deny it—that sweet, innocent-seeming young woman. But the memory of her thoughts from earlier now felt different. Too clean. Too surface-level. And those emotions—confused, then horrified, disturbed—had they been too strong? Too perfectly timed?
She’d earned a sliver of trust when she hadn’t blocked me from reading her mind, like the rest of her pack. But had I been reading what she wanted me to read? Had someone coached her on presenting specific thoughts to telepaths?
You idiot.I was clearly too used to locking up thugs who looked the part. I’d accidentally profiled Isla as innocent based on her looks and charm and her seemingly innocent thoughts. Rookie mistake.
“It has to be a possibility.”
Dizziness swept through me. “I think Terrier might have run off to find her. Find… them? Though he’s convinced himself Dev is dead.” I surveyed the bloody cottage again. “I’m not sure what he thinks happened here. I’m still not sure myself.”
“When did he leave?”
“Ten seconds before your call.” I tensed, waiting for Kit to ask why I’d let him leave, why I didn’t do everything possible to keep him with me. “Shall I go after him?”
“No. You’ll never find him.”
Yet something lodged deep within me disagreed. Not Rory’s emotions—those had faded as the distance between us grew—but something else. A pull, magnetic and insistent, like a compass needle swinging towards true north. I couldsensehim out there, not his thoughts or feelings, but his presence itself. A warm pulse beneath my ribs that whisperedthis way, this way.
“I might be able—”
“No. It’s too dangerous. Fuck knows what’s going on here.”
“The gathering is tonight. Will you be here by then?”
Murmuring in the background, then Kit’s voice again. “Magpie has managed to hack into the airline’s booking systems and registered us for the next flight, even though it’s full. We should be there late afternoon.”
“Thank god,” I said, the relief almost making my knees buckle.
Seb’s voice interjected, “You must stay exactly where you are until we get there. Barricade the door. That’s an order.”
“I will,” I automatically agreed. But there was no way I could ignore this feeling inside me, urging me tofind him, find him, find him.The pull in my chest strengthened, as if responding to my resolve.
Fear filled the quiet between us.
“He’ll be okay, Teddy,” said Kit. “You’ll see. He’s a tough one, our Terrier.”
The gentle reassurance hit harder than any threat would have. Kit was comforting me rather than threatening to kill me for losing his brother. It was almost worse—this quiet faith that it wasn’t my fault.
