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Chapter twenty-five

Felix

F elix

Three hours before the gala, I stood watching Mira work on her laptop. Holographic schematics of the Harrington Hotel floated above her workstation like a high-tech haunted house. Every fucking security camera, motion sensor, and guard rotation displayed in obsessive detail.

The past few hours had been an exercise in exquisite torture. Ever since that kiss during our “practice session,” I’d been unable to focus on anything but the memory of her lips against mine, the way her body had fit against me as if designed for that purpose alone.

This mission had to go right. I had to protect Talia, but the thought of betraying Annabella, of getting nearer to the day when she would find out who I really was, where I’d have to take her and her crew down, the thought sat like lead in my gut.

It shouldn’t. These were terrorists. This was the team that had kidnapped and mind-wiped five Council members, the team that had destroyed Reynolds, my mentor and friend.

So why did every step toward completing my mission feel like walking deeper into quicksand?

“The good news is the hotel’s system architecture is outdated,” Mira said, interrupting my thoughts. “The bad news is they’ve compensated with sheer manpower.”

She highlighted a series of red dots throughout the hotel. “These are stationed security guards for the gala brought in by the hotel. Twenty-five of them—more than we anticipated.”

Annabella leaned over Mira’s shoulder. Her expression was grim, all business.

“Can you still disable their security systems when we need it?” Annabella asked.

“Technically, yes.” Mira tapped a finger on the table. “But the duration drops from ninety seconds to sixty. After that, their backup systems kick in, and we lose control of the cameras and electronic locks.”

Sixty seconds wasn’t much time for a smooth extraction. Less time meant more potential for complications, which could work in my favor. The tighter the window, the easier it would be for me to create a delay without seeming suspicious.

“Sixty seconds is plenty,” I said. “I’ve done more with less.”

Duke snorted from across the room. “Care to share any specifics of these impressive past feats?”

“Sure,” I replied with a wink. “I’d be happy to show you my technique sometime.”

Annabella silenced whatever was going to be Duke’s reply with a sharp look.

Lydia floated forward, all pristine elegance.

“I’ve prepared the disruption spell components.

I’ll handle the security interference field from the roof position.

” Her tone shifted subtly, becoming just a touch too solicitous.

“Are you certain you can manage the sleep spell? It’s a rather delicate enchantment, requiring precise control. ”

Annabella’s scent flared with a sharp note of annoyance, though her face remained impassive. “I can handle a simple sleep spell, Lydia. I’ve been casting them since I was fourteen.”

My stomach clenched. If that spell hit Talia, she’d be defenseless against their memory wipe.

Not happening. Not on my fucking watch.

“Each of you knows your position,” Annabella said, her voice all business.

“Mira handles surveillance and triggers the east wing diversion. Zeke and Lydia manage the lobby distraction. Duke creates enough commotion to thin out Johnson’s security detail.

” Her eyes met mine briefly. “Felix and I handle the primary intercept.”

Zeke approached with a garment bag. “Your suit,” he said, handing it to me. “Custom tailored. Try it on now so we can make any final adjustments.”

I took the bag to my room and unzipped it. They hadn’t skimped on the clothes for tonight; the black tuxedo was made from a fabric so fine it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

Webster’s funding certainly had its advantages.

When I returned to the main room, Annabella and Duke were hunched over extraction routes, their heads close together as they debated details. A flicker of something uncomfortably like jealousy twisted through me at their easy familiarity.

“Backup point three is compromised,” Duke was saying. “Construction started this morning. We’ll need to use the secondary extraction point on Hampton Street.”

“Hampton is too exposed,” Annabella countered. “Too many cameras.”

“Not if Mira loops their surveillance first.”

“I can do that,” Mira called without looking up from her screens, “but only for about four minutes before their system flags it.”

I cleared my throat, and they all turned.

For a moment, no one spoke. Five sets of eyes taking in the transformation.

“Damn,” Zeke finally said, a hint of appreciation in his voice. “The suit works.”

Duke’s scowl deepened to Grand Canyon proportions, which I took as a compliment.

“Not bad,” Annabella said, her tone neutral, though her eyes lingered a fraction longer than necessary.

My wolf noticed. I told him to shut the fuck up.

“The extraction route through the kitchen is still our primary exit,” she continued, all business again.

“If that’s compromised, we move to the service elevator.

If that’s blocked, we take the northeast stairwell to the basement garage.

” She checked her watch. “Positions in ninety minutes. Final comms check in sixty.”

The rest of the team disappeared to get ready. I walked toward Annabella, who was still studying the hotel blueprints. She was methodical and thorough in her planning, with a strategic mind that would have made her an exceptional Council operative.

It was such a fucking shame she was my enemy and not on my team.

At 8:00 p.m., I stood in the loft’s common area. Duke and Zeke were already dressed in hotel staff uniforms, while Mira was wearing combat boots, ripped jeans, and a fitted purple T-shirt. Lydia wore black pants and a fitted top that would allow her to move easily across the hotel roof.

Footsteps in the hallway made us all turn.

Annabella stepped into the room, and my entire world narrowed to a single point of focus.

Holy. Fucking. Goddess.

Her black dress had a high neck in front but was nearly backless, clinging to every curve before falling in a sleek column to the floor.

A subtle slit revealed glimpses of leg when she moved.

The fabric seemed to shimmer with hints of silver that matched the streak in her hair, which had been styled into an elegant updo.

On her wrist, a thin white gold bracelet sparkled, and a delicate white gold chain encircled her throat.

She looked like something from another realm entirely—dangerous and breathtaking, her usual hardness transformed into lethal elegance that made my mouth go dry and my pulse thunder in my ears.

My wolf reacted with a possessive growl that I had to swallow back, my knuckles white as I fought to keep my hands at my sides.

I’d seen beautiful women before, but Annabella—standing there like some avenging goddess who could slit your throat and make you thank her for it—stole the air from my lungs and replaced it with fire.

“Holy shit,” Mira whispered.

I realized I was staring and forced myself to blink. Annabella’s eyes locked with mine, and something flickered in her expression—uncertainty, perhaps, or vulnerability that she quickly masked. But not before I caught it, not before my wolf cataloged it like a precious secret.

“You look absolutely fucking gorgeous,” I said, the words emerging rougher and more honest than I’d intended. Not Felix’s charm, but something rawer.

The vulnerability in her expression deepened for a moment before she recovered, her posture straightening as if to physically reject the compliment. “It’s just for the mission.”

“Mission or not, it’s still true,” I countered, holding her gaze until she looked away first.

Duke cleared his throat pointedly.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out the small box to break the charged moment between us. “Final touch,” I said, opening it to reveal the teardrop diamond earrings. “Courtesy of Mira’s engineering skills.”

Annabella’s expression shifted back to business. “Communication device?” she asked, examining them.

I nodded. “The diamonds contain a microphone, but they only transmit when activated. Press and hold here to send. Always receiving, but you control when you broadcast. Plus, the real tech is here.” I showed her what looked like small pieces of flesh-colored fashion tape.

“Bone conduction transmitters. They adhere behind your ear where they contact your skull, and they’re connected to the earrings via a micro-filament.

Completely invisible unless someone’s specifically looking for them.

” I turned my head slightly to show her the small flesh-colored disk behind my own ear.

“Mine’s less elegant but just as effective.

Mira outdid herself with yours—wanted to make sure they actually look like high-end jewelry.

Plus, yours work as actual diamonds, too,” I added with a half-smile.

“Helpful if we need to cut glass or blend in with the obscenely wealthy.”

I watched as she put them in, the simple action somehow managing to be mesmerizing. When she finished, I offered my arm with exaggerated formality, leaning into our cover story to regain my footing.

“Shall we, Mrs. Holloway?”

She took it, her fingers curling around my bicep with a warmth that seeped through the expensive fabric of my jacket. This was going to be a very long night.

I drove us to the hotel in a sleek black Audi, one selected specifically for tonight’s operation.

As we pulled up at the hotel, I leaned over and, before she could react, tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.

The gesture was deliberately intimate, establishing our couple dynamic while giving me an excuse to touch her.

“Ready to dazzle the rich and powerful?”

A hint of color touched her cheeks.

“I’m always ready. Let’s rock this.”

The ballroom where the gala was taking place was pure old-money luxury—crystal chandeliers, marble columns, champagne flowing freely. A string quartet played in one corner while waiters circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres.

Giant banners with the Northeast Medical Research Foundation logo—a stylized double helix wrapped around a caduceus—hung from the ornate ceiling.

Display boards showcased their latest breakthrough research: neurological pathway restoration, genetic therapy for degenerative conditions, and advanced addiction treatment protocols.

Well-dressed doctors and researchers mingled with the city’s elite, their conversations a mix of medical jargon and social pleasantries.

At the far end of the room, glass cases displayed auction items: private tours of research facilities, naming rights for new labs, and exclusive access to experimental treatments—thinly veiled opportunities for the wealthy to jump medical waiting lists.

“Two guards by the east entrance,” Annabella murmured, leaning into me and smiling as if sharing a bit of gossip. Her breath brushed against my ear, sending a shiver through me that went right to my cock. “Another at the bar.”

I kept my arm firmly around her waist as I scanned the room. “Two more flanking the stage. And there’s Johnson.”

Talia Johnson stood across the ballroom, commanding attention in a floor-length midnight blue gown with structured shoulders that emphasized her military bearing.

Silver accents at her throat and wrists caught the light when she moved, the ensemble projecting power and elegance in equal measure.

Four security personnel formed a loose perimeter around her, all of them constantly scanning the crowd.

According to the program, Talia would be presenting the Foundation’s Leadership in Research Award to Dr. Eleanor Whitman for her groundbreaking work on neurotransmitter regulation. I’d read the reports; Whitman’s work was concentrated on ripple addiction in Shifters.

I’d expected Gideon to have added extra Council enforcers to this evening’s security detail, but if he had, they were good; I couldn’t see them.

“Mira,” Annabella murmured, “I need real-time positions of all security personnel.”

“Already on it,” came Mira’s voice. “Six visible, four more circulating.”

I pulled Annabella closer. “Laugh, Moonbeam,” I whispered. “We’re being watched.”

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before she laughed lightly, placing her hand on my chest in a gesture that appeared natural but sent heat racing through my veins. “You’re just full of surprises tonight.”

I captured her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that I meant to be purely performative.

But the moment my lips touched her skin, something shifted between us—a current of electricity that had nothing to do with our cover and everything to do with the woman whose pulse I could feel racing beneath my fingertips. “You have no idea.”

There it was again, the slight flush of her cheeks, a dark look in her eyes. For a moment, the mission faded into the background, leaving only this—Annabella and me, caught in a moment of connection that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.

Then the moment shattered as she took a small step back, professionalism reasserting itself. “Let’s mingle. Get closer to her zone of movement.”

I nodded, keeping my hand at the small of her back, like I couldn’t bear not to be touching her. It was an act. Just part of the mission.

Nothing more.

Nothing fucking more.