Page 46 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Leo

The security room hit Leo 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.

It should’ve been unsettling. Instead, it felt... grounding.

“Swipe left for reports, right for live feeds,” Oren instructed. “The AI flags anomalies, but you can set custom alerts—”

“When do we meet the others?” Gaspard interrupted, glancing at the time on his screen.

“Ten minutes,” Oren said, a trace of amusement in his voice. “We can’t expect Emilia to walk the perimeter.”

“Thus the golf carts,” Leo said before he could stop himself. Oren chuckled. Gaspard sighed theatrically. Leo blinked. When had this started feeling... easy?

“Thus the golf carts,” Oren confirmed, switching the display to perimeter schematics. “Now, this part’s important.”

The walkthrough of patrol routes and checkpoints took another few minutes.

By the end, Leo’s head was full of codes and contingency plans—a welcome distraction from everything else gnawing at him.

When they stepped outside, the shift from the cool, high-tech space to the sun-drenched June afternoon felt like a slap of reality.

Emilia Anderson was already ascending the mansion’s front steps, her natural curls catching the sunlight like polished obsidian. She moved with effortless grace, her heels clicking a measured rhythm that seemed to harmonize with the drone of cicadas.

“Early as always,” Gaspard called, prompting a warm smile that lit up her whole face.

“Time’s just a suggestion, darling,” she replied, her New Orleans drawl turning the phrase into music.

Even the heat seemed to bend around her, as if magic carved out a pocket of comfort.

Her gaze landed on Leo, full of warmth. No twitch of her nose, no polite glossing-over—just genuine pleasure.

“Leo, honey, you’re looking better than the last time I saw you. Court life agrees with you.”

Leo flushed at the knowing glint in her eyes, grateful she couldn’t sense what the vampires could. Emilia always made him feel seen—but not too seen. “The company’s not bad,” he said, earning a laugh that somehow made the air feel lighter.

The walk to the golf cart garage was filled with Emilia’s easy chatter, mostly catching up with Gaspard about mutual acquaintances.

Every now and then, she pulled Leo into the conversation with light teasing about how well he was adjusting to Court life.

Leo caught Gaspard’s nostrils flare again as they walked—subtle, but there.

A glance in Leo’s direction, then nothing.

Oren was already ahead of them, slipping behind the wheel of a six-seater cart. Leo climbed into the passenger seat while Gaspard and Emilia settled behind them. Gaspard managed an elegant sprawl despite the tight space, looking as unbothered as ever.

As they pulled away from the mansion, Leo tried to stay focused. “We’re looking for a ward that works with the security system,” he said, voice steady. “Something that can detect unwelcome hunters—or anyone with hostile intent toward Innsbrook’s residents.”

Emilia clicked her tongue, the sound somehow both thoughtful and mildly reproving.

The motion stirred the surrounding air, carrying the faint scent of herbs and summer storms. “That last bit is mighty vague, sugar. And be warned, a ward this size will include all of Innsbrook’s residents, even those sweet humans who don’t know what goes bump in their night.

” She adjusted her sleeve, revealing a glimpse of intricate tattoos that seemed to pulse with their own heat in the summer sun.

“There may be false signals. A jealous spouse, an angry teenager—intent isn’t always as clear-cut as we’d like. ”

The golf cart had barely reached the tree line when Nathaniel emerged from the woods, his massive frame making the entire vehicle dip as he swung into the back row.

Leo stiffened slightly as the shifter’s presence filled the space behind him, hyperaware of what Nathaniel’s enhanced senses might detect.

But the Pack leader’s attention was entirely elsewhere.

“How’s Elias?” Nathaniel asked without preamble, earning a good-natured eye roll from Emilia as she twisted in her seat to face him.

“Dr. Wright is settling in just fine,” Emilia replied, amusement warming her drawl.

She patted Nathaniel’s knee as he visibly deflated.

“Now, sugar, you know he’s a shy one. A homebody.

New people make him nervous, especially.

..” she cast a meaningful glance at Nathaniel’s imposing presence, “loud, outgoing adults. There’s a reason he chose pediatrics. ”

Nathaniel’s sulk was almost comical on such a large man.

Leo had to bite back a smile as Emilia continued, her tone gentling.

“Give him time. Time to settle into the Coven, time to adjust to his position at the clinic. It’s overwhelming enough without your.

..” she paused diplomatically, “enthusiastic attention.”