Page 10

A long shower helped me pull myself together. Then, I sat at the computer and saw an email from Mr. Ragu with contact information for all four clients—and a fifth, an alpha whose contract would expire in five weeks. I decided to leave that one for later; I had more time to deal with it.

I bit my lip as I analyzed the addresses. Two clients were local, but one—Salt—was in prison, and Star lived a few hours away. To make things worse, Star’s contract was expiring first, in just 11 days. Time wasn’t on my side.

I hesitated before picking up the phone, clearing my throat a few times to make sure I sounded more confident and professional.

Finally, I dialed Star’s number. He picked up after four rings.

"Go ahead," he said, his tone formal, like I’d just called an office receptionist.

"My name is Storm Nolan, and I’m calling on behalf of Fate’s Choice agency. I wanted to see if I could set up a quick meeting with you to discuss carrying out our part of the contract."

There was a short silence on the other end, and I couldn’t tell what it meant.

"Alright, if it’s necessary. You can come tomorrow at noon," he said, his tone all business.

I hesitated. Damien’s heat might still be an issue tomorrow.

"Okay, let’s plan for noon tomorrow, but if anything changes, could I call ahead and reschedule for the day after?"

"I’d rather not. I have mandatory training with my company on Thursday and Friday."

Right—Star worked as a consultant at Malden Pharmaceuticals now.

"Got it. I’ll do my best to be there by twelve o’clock."

I couldn’t keep putting this off, especially with the fair coming up on Saturday. It felt wrong to have this kind of conversation over the phone, so meeting in person was a must.

After hanging up, I sighed. The pressure was getting to me. The marital contract fair was creeping closer, and I still needed to convince the other three to participate—a tall order with so little time.

After staring absentmindedly out the window for a while, I went back to work.

The next file belonged to Salt Einarson. The last name gave me a little pause, but I had no idea why. Surprisingly, the beta’s case turned out to be the easiest to deal with. The contact information included a phone number for someone from the "Second Chance" agency handling his situation.

Based on the contract details, this person essentially called the shots. Salt himself didn’t have much say in the matter. Ah, the joys of being a criminal… I narrowly escaped this fate!

I made the call, and the conversation was surprisingly short. The handler, polite but formal, listened to my explanation about the fair and immediately said:

"No problem. We’re very motivated to find someone for Salt, so we’re open to exploring every possible option to broaden the search for a suitable partner. He’s a unique case, and we’re invested in his future."

Well, quadruple murder definitely counted as unique.

"But could Salt have any objections? I’d prefer to speak with him directly."

The handler’s voice stayed neutral. "I understand your concern, but individuals with cases of this magnitude don’t usually have much say, Mr. Nolan. He has two options: opt out of the program entirely and remain in prison indefinitely—or accept the terms and benefits that come with it."

It still made me uncomfortable, knowing how little choice Salt really had.

"Will you at least give him a heads-up before the auction?"

"Of course. Rest assured, we’re not forcing him into anything. Salt voluntarily joined the program and signed a contract granting us significant authority in finding a match for him. We’ll make sure he’s informed and shows up for the fair."

I hesitated, unsure if I should push further. "Salt’s also part of another program, isn’t he? To find the right match, I’d need details about that too."

The handler sighed. "Yes, we’ve shared all relevant information with Mr. Ragu. Salt is also enrolled in the Beta Activation Program. You can look it up if you need more specifics."

"Oh, I don’t have to. A guy I used to f—uh, I used to know told me all about it. It’s a pretty controversial program."

Yeah, Finn—my brother Winter’s ex that I hooked up with a few times in the past—had told me all about this government program. It was meant to make betas reproductively viable, but it was a PR nightmare.

The handler let out an awkward chuckle. "Well, yes. Beta Empowerment groups have called it a ‘beta annihilation program’, and it has sparked protests, riots, and even physical attacks on those involved in its creation. But that doesn’t concern us. Salt simply wants to avoid staying in prison, and this program, along with the Second Chance initiative, are his two paths forward—one or the other."

"Got it. We’ll see what we can do. Attending the fair could really help his situation."

"I agree. He’ll be there."

And that’s where the conversation ended, though I still felt a twinge of guilt. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should talk to the guy. I even pulled up his photo. He looked like someone who valued independence, and I couldn’t help worrying this whole situation might feel humiliating for him—but I didn’t have much choice.

Something in my gut told me he needed to be at the auction.

At least the first two calls had gone smoothly.

The next one was even easier. Darien Ferro, the mobster's widower, agreed to meet me tomorrow afternoon without any fuss.

The surrogate, Day Sanderson, was a little less friendly, but like Ferro, he agreed to meet me one hour later. Thankfully, they only lived about fifteen minutes apart by car, so it wouldn’t be a huge hassle.

After a moment of hesitation, I decided to check out the profile of the alpha Mr. Ragu had included in the email. His contract wasn’t up for five weeks, so there was still time. But something about it made me curious enough to click.

When I opened it, my jaw nearly hit the floor.

I knew him.

It was Gabriel Nolan—one of my cousins.

What the fuck?

I blinked, staring at the picture on the screen, stunned.

We weren’t close.

Gabe was younger than me, still in college, and we didn’t really have much of a relationship. But he was family, no question. I knew he’d gotten into serious trouble recently with an eco-activist group. A few weeks ago, he’d been arrested after one of their protests spiraled out of control. Honestly, I hadn’t paid much attention to it—I wasn’t close enough to Gabriel, and I had my own mess to deal with. Plus, when I was in court over my issues, he didn’t bother to call me either.

Gabe had a background in martial arts, mostly kickboxing, so the group had used him as their muscle—a bodyguard or enforcer. As I read further, I was shocked to learn, he and his friends had destroyed one of Malden Pharmaceuticals’ labs. Millions of dollars in damages.

But that wasn’t the worst part. They’d started a fire in one section of the building, not realizing the cleaning staff were still inside. They’d endangered several people’s lives.

When it came to sentencing, Gabriel was given a choice: go to prison or join the Second Chance program. Just like Salt, this meant he could attend the marital contract fair, and if paired with someone, he’d be under house arrest with an ankle monitor for a few years.

I stared at the screen, trying to process it all. For some reason, my instincts told me this upcoming fair wasn’t right for him. The one in two weeks seemed like a better fit.

Still, the situation bothered me enough to call Nathaniel—he was always more in tune with family stuff than I was.

He picked up right away, and after I explained everything, he said, "Yeah, Gabriel’s situation was rough. Six people ended up in the hospital, some with serious burns. The property damage was no joke either. Uncle Van was able to get in touch with Blue Lowen, the CEO of Malden Pharmaceuticals, thanks to Winter's mediation. They practically begged him for mercy. Lowen surprised everyone by agreeing to let Gabe into the Second Chance program instead of sending him to prison. It saved his life, honestly. Now he has a shot at finishing his degree online. He’s only got a year left. If he’d gone to prison, it would’ve wrecked him. You know how sensitive and anxious he is."

Indeed, Gabriel was quite anxious. At family gatherings, he always stayed in the corner, avoiding attention. I rarely spoke to him—my energy seemed a bit much for someone as shy as he was.

After hanging up, I remained puzzled. My relationship with my family was rocky, especially with my brothers, who had intense personalities, some volatile, but Gabriel was different. He wasn’t the type to get into trouble. Quiet, timid boy, always in the corner? It didn’t add up. Why had he let himself spiral like that? Almost ruining his life and education?

As I stretched, I reminded myself that tomorrow would be even busier and definitely crazier. All things considered; I hoped Damien's heat wouldn't carry over into the third day.

Just as I finished closing all the files, I noticed Damien standing in the doorway, watching me. His expression made it clear he needed me.

"Tomorrow, I’ll need to head out for a few hours," I told him. "I’ve got to meet with the clients to convince them to join the fair. I can’t handle this over the phone—it’s too delicate, especially since they’ve signed contracts specifying, they wouldn’t participate in fairs or auctions. I need to figure out a way to… well, persuade them. No idea if I’ll even pull it off."

Damien nodded slowly, uncertainty written all over his face.

"But," I added hesitantly, "if your heat’s still going tomorrow, maybe you could come with me? When the wave starts, we'll figure something out on the way…"

His smile broadened, and he nodded again. "Sure. Thanks for thinking about that. I don’t want to mess up your work, especially since you’ve just started. I’d be happy to tag along if it comes to that."

I relaxed. At least that part was sorted.

"And now…" I stood and offered him my hand. "Shall we go to the bedroom?"

He blushed and nodded.

We spent the next hour tangled together, his heat wave still in full swing. At one point, I just lay on top of him, moving slowly, our eyes locked. It was intense, deeply intimate. Part of me so desperately wanted to say something—to confess that I wanted more than just this heat. But, of course, I held myself back once again.

When the wave eased up, I made us some lunch. Damien worked on his laptop in the meantime—coding. Over lunch, I noticed he was eating more than before, which made me think the heat was starting to taper off.

After that, we went back to the bedroom for another hour. This time, it was even slower, gentler, very tender. And yet again—I had to fight with all my strength not to ask him to be mine. It was getting ridiculous. The sex became kinda bothersome, I felt like I had a suffocating gag in my mouth, preventing me from declaring what my heart wanted.

Later in the afternoon, I decided to call Mr. Ren Ragu to update him on the planned meetings. But as soon as I picked up the phone, it rang.

It was Mr. Ragu himself!

Convenient timing.

The moment I answered, I knew something was up. His voice sounded raspy, and I could hear his breathing—it was quick, almost panicked.

"Storm, I hate to ask you this, but I need you to get here ASAP," he blurted out.

I blinked. "What?"

"Yes, yes, it’s urgent!"

"I told you I’m assisting a friend. You know what that means, right?"

"Of course, which is why I’m fine with you bringing him along. We’ve got resting rooms here—four of them in the administrative building. Bring him. You can stay with him almost the whole time, but I need you for a few crucial minutes."

"I don’t get it."

"Listen, you know the company’s trying to come up with better ways to identify if someone’s a Low Mate or incompatible. We’re about to sign a deal for an experimental testing program with Malden Pharmaceuticals. It’s groundbreaking. And confidential. If this goes through, we’ll be the first agency to filter out incompatibles during matchmaking. Every match would be at least Low Mate, if not higher. And Blue Lowen himself is arriving in… forty-five minutes!"

I yawned, losing interest. "What does that have to do with me?"

"A lot. Time’s tight, and Lowen’s safety is crucial. He’s probably the most targeted man in this country. He’s survived multiple assassination attempts. So many groups hate him—for his strong suppressants, for the Beta Activation program, and God knows what else. Last time, he barely made it out alive. He’s paranoid now—but with good reason. This meeting is top secret. Nobody knows about it. But here’s the problem… His condition for showing up was that we provide extra security. He demanded four people, but we only have three on duty, and now there’s… forty-two minutes left."

"You didn’t think to hire someone extra earlier?"

"I did! I hired three extras, just in case! But today, all of them mysteriously resigned. All of them. Do you get it?"

I blinked. "That’s… impossible. Someone got to them."

"Exactly. Someone threatened them, warned them, something like that. I’m sure of it."

"Then call the police! There could be an attack—"

"I can’t. Lowen won’t go public about it, the deal has to stay discreet. I’m already risking a lot just telling you this."

I rubbed my forehead. "This sounds like another assassination attempt in the making. You should contact the police. Is this deal really worth risking your lives for?"

"Not necessarily. It could just be sabotage. If we don't meet his conditions, he'll go away. That would be a win for our competition. And remember, he has his own bodyguards, and we’ve got three people here. Pulling off an attack with that much security would be crazy. But Lowen demanded four. No exceptions. If we don’t deliver, the whole thing falls apart. The man’s… eccentric! Brilliant, but weird. I need you here, Storm. You’re our bodyguard for now, remember?"

"For fuck’s sake, this is insane. We could all be in danger. And there’s only forty minutes left. It’ll take me twenty just to get there—"

"Then get in your car now! I’ve already called two other agencies. Nobody can get here in under an hour. You’re my only option! Just show up for a moment so Lowen sees you. Then you can stay in the resting room. When he's about to leave, you reappear. That's it."

"You’ve got to give me something for this, Mr. Ragu. This is a lot to ask. I’d be risking my life—and someone else’s."

"I’m ready for it! You can have your old job back with your previous salary, starting now. No proving yourself needed. And if you lock in at least three out of these matches I asked for, you get the raise we talked about—and… a fixed percentage of all future contracts you close. Deal?"

A percentage of all contracts? That sounded sweet. Almost like… a partnership deal!

"Alright. However, there are two more things—I’m officially still your husband’s employee till the end of this month, but I want to be permanently off the fucking Johansson commission, no matter what happens."

"Fine, I’ll talk to Jun and make it happen. What’s the other thing?"

"I broke one of Dark Dream’s rules. I contacted one of the clients outside company work hours for his heat assistance—"

"Not important! That’s Jun’s problem, not mine. Now get your ass moving!"

"He may be angry—"

"He won’t. I’ll deal with it. Hurry up!"

"Fine. I’m coming—with him."

"Whatever. Just hurry!"

Feeling slightly dizzy, I turned around, and there was Damien in the doorway.

He must’ve heard everything—thanks to his sharp rose omega hearing.

His eyes were wide, but he was smiling. "Well, I guess we’re going! Sounds like quite an adventure. And a risky one."

I let out a breath of relief. "Crazy, huh? But listen, it could be dangerous if Ragu’s wrong, and this is an assassination attempt—"

Damien crossed his arms. "I could say the same about you. I’d rather you didn’t risk it, either."

"I’m hard to kill, Damien. Really hard."

"And I can defend myself just fine," he said, holding up his hand and letting little electric sparks flicker between his fingers. "Besides, I’ll be in a separate room, right?"

I blinked. "Still. I hate putting you at risk."

"He is my uncle, Storm. He's a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve these attacks. He has suffered enough. Maybe our presence can make a difference?"

"I understand, but you are not his bodyguard. It's not your duty to protect him. I’m putting you in risky—"

"There might not even be a risk. We don’t know. But one thing’s certain—time’s running out."

"You’re right!" I rubbed my forehead, groaning in frustration. As we argued, precious minutes passed. "Okay, fuck it. Get dressed. We’re going!"

We threw on our clothes and practically ran to my car.

Two minutes later, I was driving like a maniac, praying for green lights. Damien was next to me, staring out the window.

"Uncle Blue’s had a tough life, you know?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, desperately trying to overtake a truck on a double solid line.

"He didn’t get everything handed to him on a silver platter. Our family wasn’t as famous back then. When he was a teenager, he had an accident that left him infertile. Later, complications led to all his glands being removed. He threw himself into science after that, working on revolutionary methods of tissue regeneration and so much more. He’s a genius. Our family had only a few investments in Malden—Grandpa was just one of many shareholders for years. But Blue became CEO there only because of his own incredible accomplishments in regenerative biology."

"Is he married?"

"No, never was. He lives like a monk. Work’s his whole life."

"With no glands… did he even mature properly?"

"Well, he’s pretty small, around 5’3". He looks fragile. Without glands or a uterus, he can’t go into heats or have kids. I guess he decided to focus on his career and making a difference in the world."

I hesitated before saying this: "Funny thing? My second cousin, Gabriel, was part of an attack on Malden Pharmaceuticals. He’s just a kid—it was some kind of eco-activist group he got mixed up with. They saw your uncle as the enemy. A lot of groups hate him."

Damien’s eyes widened. "Wow, that’s insane! Are you serious? What a coincidence!"

"I probably shouldn’t bring that up with Mr. Ragu," I muttered. "He might think I’m not the best pick to guard someone who got my cousin arrested."

"Probably not. This whole situation is nuts. You were smart to push Mr. Ragu into rehiring you, though. This is risky, and you deserve some guarantees for showing up to work under these crazy conditions."

I exhaled softly. "Let’s hope he doesn’t backtrack later. I’ve got some weird ideas for matching clients, but it’s all based on intuition. Mr. Ragu trusts me for now, but what if something goes wrong?"

"Could something go wrong?"

"I hope not. I firmly believe in my… supernatural intuition." I winked, trying hard to sound casual.

Damien bit his lip, glancing at me like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t sure. He must’ve picked up on my self-doubt.

Let’s face it—I’d already messed up one crucial thing. I hadn’t realized right away if Damien was my True Mate. And I still wasn’t 100% sure, just… 99%. But I should have known. That could be considered a major fuck-up, right?

"So… how does your intuition even work?" he finally asked, slightly hesitant.

"It’s hard to explain. When I look at two people’s pictures, I see this… color spectrum. Like their energy lines up. It’s weird, but it works. I’ve matched a few High Mates using it."

"Could you use it to find True Mates too?"

This was risky territory, and I hesitated again. Sharing too much might change the tone of our conversation.

"Yeah, I think I can. I wouldn’t bet my life on it, but I feel like I can find True Mates for this group of clients."

Did I sound overconfident? Damien’s eyes widened.

"Really? That would be… incredible."

I thought about the nagging feeling I’d had lately. Should I mention it?

"Yeah. The more I focus, the clearer it gets. Sometimes, I even feel like I already know who their True Mates are."

Damien blinked, clearly shocked. His cheeks flushed. "Wait, you already know? Who are they?"

Yes, yes. Now we were firmly in delusional territory. Feeling sheepish, I added, "I think their True Mates are… my cousins."

Saying it out loud made me cringe like crazy.

Did it really have to sound so absolutely insane?

Damien stared at me, slack-jawed. Yeah, no surprise. I’d be floored, too, hearing something this wild.

Biting my lip, I muttered, "This whole thing feels… off. Like it’s not a coincidence. It’s like Fate is pulling the strings. Higher power stuff. I can’t believe it’s random."

"But your own cousins, Storm? That sounds like some kind of observer bias."

And… there it was. I frowned. This was exactly why I hadn't told anyone, not even the cousins in question. It just sounded too ridiculous, too wild.

Damien studied me as I fell silent, with a crease on my forehead.

"Hey, listen… I don’t doubt you, it’s just—"

"You wouldn’t be the first, that’s okay. Everyone doubts me." My tone came out more sour than I intended.

Damien huffed, letting out a protesting whimper. "Storm, I didn’t mean it like that! I know you’re special, different. And I know you believe in this. If anyone can pull off a miracle like finding True Mates, it’s you. Who else could? You’re purple, and… no man can be your equal , right?" He grinned.

I shrugged. "I guess we’ll see soon enough. Maybe some doubters will come crawling back on their knees, apologizing…"

"And maybe one of them will get on his knees for a different reason," he teased with a wink.

"I wouldn’t mind that," I shot him a knowing smile.

Truthfully, I didn’t know if there was anything to brag about yet. So far, it was just a gut feeling. A strong one, yes. Sure, I’d figured out one of my brothers’ True Mates before it was confirmed (and maybe one more!), but could I rely on just a few examples? Perhaps I still needed to keep my ego in check.

"I'm kinda going back and forth on this. But that would be the real test of my abilities," I admitted. "Before, I worked with a set database. Now I have to find people in the open pool. It’s a whole new level. And first, I need to convince these clients to even attend the fair. Everything depends on that."

As we neared the company building, I turned into the parking lot and checked the time.

"Fifteen minutes left. We drove for twenty-five. Damn it! Let’s go."

We got out of the car. The wind was sharp—September wasn’t bringing good weather. Damien’s bright red-pink hair whipped across his cheeks. For a moment, I found myself staring at him—his small nose, freckles, and full lips.

Then Damien circled the car and approached me in a few quick steps.

"Storm," he said, stopping in his tracks, his eyes fixed on my face. His small hand landed on my forearm, sending a pleasant shiver through me.

"Listen… I believe in you. I really do! You can do anything you put your mind to. I wasn’t joking when I said no man can be your equal . Not… in my eyes." He was slightly out of breath by the time he finished, a strange intensity in his whole body.

We stood there for a moment, caught in each other’s gaze. His energy, his strong aura—it all mesmerized me; he was enchanting me, making me… his.

"You’re perfect," I murmured, brushing my fingers against the birthmark on his cheek.

He blushed. "Me? Have you seen yourself?"

"Yes, you. I’m sorry all of this is happening during your heat. It must be awful being dragged around like this in your condition."

Damien laughed, waving it off. "Nah, not at all! Your life is fascinating. I’m glad to be a part of it. And I appreciate you thinking about my situation instead of leaving me out in the cold."

"Of course. I promised I’d be here for you."

He smiled sweetly, and, hand in hand, we headed toward the administrative building to the left of the main hall. There were more cars in the parking lot than I’d expected, considering it wasn’t an expo day, and for a while, I kept looking around.

We walked into the lobby. The receptionist didn’t stop us—he must’ve been briefed about the situation. We went straight to the elevator and rode up to the floor where Mr. Ragu’s office was located.

To my surprise, three security guards I didn’t recognize were standing outside the office. None of them had worked here when I was a guard. They must’ve been new hires. As they noticed me, one of them frowned slightly, like he wasn’t happy I was there. Clearly, they’d been informed of my arrival.

Their attention didn’t stay on me for long. A moment later, all three of them shifted their focus to Damien, and I saw their nostrils flare as they caught his scent. Of course. Damien’s pheromones weren’t being suppressed by blockers.

Immediately, I let out a low, warning growl from deep in my chest. All three of them instinctively stepped back a little.

Without saying a word, we walked past the guards. I knocked on the office door and heard Mr. Ragu’s nervous voice invite us in.

Mr. Ragu was in the room with only one beta employee flipping through a stack of documents spread out on the table. Mr. Ragu stood nearby, nervously wringing his hands. The atmosphere was thick with stress.

Only then did I recognize the beta—it was Jordan, Mr. Ragu’s lawyer, who handled contract reviews for the company. We never got along. He was a skinny guy in his mid-30s, and he gave me a sour look, clearly remembering our less-than-friendly past.

I smirked slightly. "Oh, hi there, Jordan. Nice to see you again. And good afternoon, Mr. Ragu—I came as requested."

Mr. Ragu, too preoccupied to notice my thinly veiled disdain for Jordan, immediately hurried over to shake my hand.

"Thank you, Storm. You’re saving my life here. I’ve been informed that Mr. Lowen is only running five minutes late, so he’ll be here in about fifteen minutes."

I frowned. "Why are the guards standing outside your office instead of securing the area? The parking lot is full of cars—have they all been checked? What’s going on? Do you even have a plan?"

Mr. Ragu waved his hands nervously, trying to explain, but Jordan interjected, his tone sharp. "Those idiots have been here for just a month. They’re complete rookies and don’t know what they’re doing. They need to be whipped into shape, or we’ll lose this contract. The other security team that backed out at the last minute was supposed to cover the open area, leaving our team to handle the inside. That’s why it’s a mess. Nobody is doing what he’s supposed to."

I muttered a quiet curse. "I’ll deal with it if I have time, but my priority is getting Damien to a designated room. I don’t want him hanging around near those guards." I gestured subtly toward Damien, who was quietly observing the conversation.

Mr. Ragu glanced at Damien, his nostrils flaring slightly—he was an omega himself, so it was unlikely he would react at all, except with a sour grimace. For most omegas, the smell of another person’s heat was rather unpleasant and pungent. But he held his face still. "Yes, yes, let’s take care of that quickly. Jordan, you’ll escort them, won’t you?"

Jordan grimaced, obviously annoyed. He wasn’t a PA but a senior attorney for the company.

"Where’s Robert?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn’t this supposed to be his job?"

"He suddenly called in sick and didn’t show up today," Mr. Ragu replied, exasperated.

I cursed under my breath again. Everything about this situation felt off. Mr. Ragu was here with only Jordan and three basically unknown guards. Even Robert, his usual right-hand man, was absent.

"Fine," Jordan grumbled, placing the stack of documents back on the table. "Let’s get this over with."

"I’d prefer the room to be close to where the meeting is happening," I said firmly.

"Of course. The conference room is one floor down. There are also two adjacent lounge rooms right next to it. I think it would be best to put him there. That way, you can move quickly if needed," Mr. Ragu said, gesturing for Jordan to grab a set of keycards from a cabinet.

"Let’s go, then," I said.

We all headed toward the door, leaving Mr. Ragu in the office. When we stepped outside, the guards were gone. Interesting. The chaos surrounding this situation made my unease grow even stronger.

"I’d like the keycard for Damien’s room to stay with me," I told Jordan as we rode the elevator down a floor.

Jordan nodded curtly.

The hallway was dimly lit, with pale lights overhead. Through large glass doors, I spotted a spacious conference room that took up most of the floor. But Jordan led us farther down the corridor to a quieter area with two additional doors.

"These aren’t really hotel rooms," Jordan explained. "They’re more like break rooms for guests attending long conferences. People can leave their belongings here, and sometimes we set up a buffet during longer meetings."

We stopped at one of the doors. "There’s a pull-out sofa inside," Jordan added, clearing his throat awkwardly, "and the cabinet has… supplies. You know, just in case."

Neither Damien nor I acknowledged the not-so-subtle suggestion. We all knew what he meant.

Jordan unlocked the door. The room was small but functional, with a stack of bottled water and packs of salty snacks in one corner. A decent-sized sofa, which could be unfolded, took up the opposite wall. There was also a desk and two chairs.

I turned to Damien. "Stay here. I’ll keep the keycard, and no one will bother you. I’ll be just outside the conference room for as long as I need to be, and I’ll come right back afterward."

Damien blinked, then murmured so quietly that only I could hear, "The wave hasn’t started yet…"

"Doesn’t matter. We don’t know how soon it might happen. Just call me if anything comes up."

He nodded, then suddenly stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his head to my chest. The simple gesture filled me with warmth and protective instincts. I leaned down and kissed the top of his head, but it didn’t feel like enough. Tilting his face upward, I gently held his chin and kissed his soft, pouty lips.

"I’ll be back soon," I promised.

"Take care of yourself," Damien whispered. "My intuition—it’s not as sharp as yours, but I’ve got a bad feeling. Something weird is going on."

"We’ll see. I’ll stay vigilant."

With that, Jordan and I left the room. I locked the door behind us, scanned the hallway, and then turned to him.

"What’s in the second room?"

Jordan pulled out another keycard, unlocked the door, and showed me the room. It was almost identical to the first one.

"I’d like the keycard for this room as well," I demanded.

Jordan handed it over, his expression sour as usual.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and looked up in alarm.

"He’s here! We need to get downstairs right now!"

We rushed to the elevator, and thirty seconds later, we were already on the first floor. Mr. Ragu stood in the lobby, looking extremely frazzled. One security guard was with him, but the other two were nowhere to be seen.