Page 50

“I think she’s reporting something to somebody. She has been watching me and Chanel too hard all night long.”

“What are you saying?”

“Someone knew about Cheboygan.”

Finally, Harlen was listening and processing what I was saying. “That’s a serious accusation, Morgan.”

“I know what I’m seeing. There’s something wrong with her. I can feel it.”

“Feel it? Your instincts are still new.” He cautioned, but he was watching Layla now with more interest. “It could be you’re picking up on something else entirely.”

I shook my head no. Frustration was building in my chest. “No, I’m sure of it. Look, there she goes again.”

Layla had moved away from the bar and to a quieter corner. Her back was to the wall as she checked her phone more openly now. Her thumb scrolled quickly, then paused. The faintest smile touched her lips before vanishing. She glanced up and scanned the room. For a brief moment, our eyes locked. Something passed between us before she smoothly lookedaway. She tucked her phone into her pocket and resumed her professional demeanor.

“We need to tell Zand.” I said, not sure what I would tell him.

“Tell him what?” Harlen chuckled.

My voice dropped. “What the fuck I just saw.”

Harlen sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. “Morgan, listen. You’re new to this. Everything feels suspicious when your senses are dialed up to the clouds. Layla’s been with Zand for years.”

“So what?” I leaned closer to him, my eyes never leaving Layla. “Teresa was with Zand for years too and look how that turned out.”

The comparison hit home. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, but I saw the subtle shift of Harlen’s expression. It was too late. The damage was done. I did notice the slight narrowing of his eyes as he considered my words.

“Harlen, she knows a lot of things.” I pressed. “About Zand, about my homegirl. About all of us. And she’s feeding that information to someone.” I placed my hand on Harlen’s knee. “Coco could be in danger.”

The mention of Chanel’s safety finally broke through his skepticism. He sat straight up. “If you want to bother Zand with your Spidey senses, then we will.”

“Yes, I do.” I urged.

“Alright.” He conceded. “We’ll talk to Zand.”

Relief washed through me. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Harlen warned, rising from his seat. “If you’re wrong about this, Zand will not be happy with me.”

“You’ll get over it.” I smarted. “And if I’m right?” I countered, standing up and willing him to do the same.

Harlen stood, and he glanced over at Layla. She was engaged in conversation with a group of wealthy patrons. “If you’re right,” he said quietly, “then we’ll see.”

Harlen took my hand and led me from the VIP section. I followed him through the club, weaving between bodies that seemed to move in slow motion. My senses continue to bombard me with information. There were the individual heartbeats of the humans we passed, and the complex layers of scents.

As we approached the private elevator, I glanced back one last time. Layla was standing by the bar, her posture perfect, her expression professionally neutral. But her eyes. They followed our movement with an intensity that confirmed my suspicions. When she saw me watching her, she spun around, but not before I caught something in her gaze.

Fear. Genuine fear.

And in that moment, I knew without a doubt that I was right. I wasn’t sure if I should call it women’s intuition or vampire intuition, but I peeped game. And that bitch was cooked.

After we got off the elevator, we walked down the hall of red walls. Who the hell picked red paint? Harlen knocked on Zand’s office door with a distinctive tap. Zand opened the door, and I wondered how he knew we were coming. He ushered us inside and we both sat in front of his desk.

Zand’s office felt like a different world compared to the pulsing club below. The thick walls muffled the bass from the dance floor. The modern décor mixed with antique furniture exuded the future fused with history. Zand looked over his desk at us.

“Hello Morgan.” He spoke slowly.

“Hey Zand.” I spoke before Harlen can speak. I had a newfound vampire confidence propelling me. “There’s a traitor in The Castle.” I announced, with the words tumbling out before I could edit them.