Page 134 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“But listen. Do you know how to break a mate bond? This whole thing was an accident, and I’m worried Teddy will hate me for it.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” His voice went quiet, sad even. “Sometimes I wish there was a way to turn it off.”
“Huh?” Why was he again talking as if he had firsthand experience? “Ages ago you told me that relationship you had with that other soldier… You said you hadn’t had a mate bond!”
“That’s true. I don’t mean with them.”
My brain struggled to process what he was saying. “Well, who do you mean, then?!”
“Do you want me to come up there?” Kit asked suddenly. “Because I will.”
Well that was a subtle change in conversation.
“No,” I said firmly, my heart swelling at the conviction in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.”
Hanging up, I made my way downstairs. Maxwell, now sitting in the armchair with his laptop open, looked up at me, and his face broke into one of those rare, genuine smiles that transformed his entire expression. Something warm and settling flowed into me—like coming home after a long journey.
The realisation slammed into me, stealing my breath. I didn’t want to break this bond. Not even a little bit. The thought of severing this connection, of losing this constant awareness of Maxwell’s presence and emotions—though it would undoubtedly be challenging—made my stomach lurch with something approaching panic.
What did that make me? Some sort of supernatural stalker who’d trapped an unwilling victim? But Maxwell had said he didn’t want me to stay away. He’d chosen to get closer to me, over and over again.
“Everything alright?” Maxwell asked, voice tense.
“Yeah, just… Kit being Kit. Seb says we can keep going for now.”
Dev now housed Freddy in his lap, and was gently stroking him. Seemingly Freddy had forgiven him for the whole flinging incident last night. Dev grinned at me. “He bit me twice, then decided we were mates again. Fickle little bastard.”
“That’s Freddy for you. Zero loyalty, maximum chaos.”
Maxwell cleared his throat. “So, Felix just emailed us. Shall I summarise what he’s found?”
“Shoot,” I said.
“So, Highland Heritage Trust,” Maxwell said. “They do have an online presence, though it’s pretty minimal. Working email address, basic website—nothing fancy.”
I perched on the arm of his chair, close enough to read over his shoulder. Our bond hummed contentedly at our proximity, which was both distracting and oddly comforting.
“Here’s the interesting bit,” Maxwell continued. “Felix tried to hack into their email system but he’s hit a wall. Triple verification security, military-grade encryption. That’s not normal for a small heritage organisation.” Maxwell scrolled down. “Also, the Highland Heritage Trust doesn’t just own that one building. They’ve got seven other properties scattered across the Highlands.”
“Seven?!” Seven other properties meant more potential holding sites, more places Dev’s captors could have moved other victims. “What was the original purpose of the first building?”
“Used to be a teaching hub for children. Closed down almost a decade ago, after some sort of funding deficiency.”
“Doesn’t sound like they’d casually have padded cells and operating theatres in a teaching hub.”
“Felix managed to pull the original architectural plans,” Maxwell said, bringing up a blueprint. “Two-storey building, basic layout. No basement shown on any of the official documentation.”
Dev shifted, his expression troubled. “I’m absolutely certain I was kept underground. The way sound carried, the smell of the air, even the temperature.”
Maxwell hummed. “It’s entirely possible there are underground levels that aren’t on the official plans.”
“How exactly did Carrie come to know about this building?” I asked Dev.
Dev scratched behind Freddy’s ear. “After Ewan went missing, an old friend contacted her. Someone they knew—who insisted on remaining anonymous—worked there briefly. They wouldn’t talk to Carrie directly, only gave her friend basic information: that building, and that the Thorne family were involved.”
I barked a laugh. “I’m not surprised.”
But Iwassurprised. My mother took immense pride in being a shifter. She wouldn’t want them cut open, even shifters from other packs.
