Page 6

Chapter three

Felix

I inhaled as the scent of freshly ground coffee beans, sage, and something sharp that was probably one of Lydia’s spell components hit me.

I padded barefoot across the polished concrete floor toward the kitchen, grateful for the quiet.

Six a.m. was apparently the only time this place wasn’t buzzing with activity, planning, or heated discussions about our next move.

It had been too long between missions for this crew, and the strains were starting to show.

Our home base took up the entire top floor of a converted warehouse in the Crossroads Arts District.

High ceilings, exposed brick walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows facing east caught the sunrise over downtown Kansas City.

The kind of space that whispered money and good taste—which made sense, given Webster’s suspected backing.

The kitchen opened into the main living area, separated only by a long granite island. Industrial fixtures cast warm light over gleaming appliances that belonged in a high-end restaurant. I fired up the espresso machine and pulled out enough mugs for the whole team.

Making coffee had become my unofficial job around here. Annabella hadn’t assigned it to me, but I’d noticed everyone was less hostile when they had caffeine in their systems. Well, everyone except Duke, who was going to hate my guts regardless of how perfect his cappuccino foam was.

Behind me, the living area sprawled around a massive sectional sofa and reclaimed wood coffee table. Bookshelves lined one wall—magical texts mixed with tactical manuals and Mira’s graphic novel collection. A state-of-the-art entertainment system dominated another wall.

Individual bedrooms branched off down a hallway, each door solid wood with privacy locks. Everyone had their own sanctuary to retreat to, but the common areas told the real stories about who lived here.

Mira, the only human on the team, had claimed the northeast corner of the main space for her tech setup.

Multiple monitors curved around her workspace, cables now running in neat channels, thanks to some recent reorganization.

Empty energy drink cans formed small pyramids on every available surface, and her collection of vintage band posters covered the exposed brick behind her desk.

She’d rigged LED strips under her workspace that pulsed whenever she was typing, turning her corner into a neon-lit cave when she worked.

She would give Waylen, the tech whizz in Three Rivers, a run for his money.

I wondered just how much she knew about Council operations. How much had she hacked into?

The thought made my chest tighten. Derek would have known exactly what to look for in Mira’s setup—his time in military intelligence meant he’d always been better at reading people’s technical capabilities, figuring out their blind spots.

We used to tag-team investigations like that: him the Beta of the Three Rivers Pack, me running Shaw Investigations with our other brother, Mason, bouncing observations off each other until we had a complete picture.

Used to.

I pushed down the familiar ache that came with thinking about my twin.

We hadn’t spoken since everything went sideways, and I’d tried to kill him.

I missed him. Missed the easy banter, the way we could communicate with just a look, the certainty that someone always had my back.

But I had no idea how to bridge the gap between what we’d been and what we were now.

I shook off the thought and forced myself to focus on the present. On this team that had somehow managed to build the kind of connection I’d lost with my own brother.

Zeke had taken over the sunniest spot near the eastern windows for his herb garden.

Dozens of plants in mismatched pots created a miniature greenhouse effect, their leaves filtering the morning light into green-tinted shadows on the floor.

A comfortable reading chair sat among the plants, surrounded by stacks of books on herbalism and healing magic.

Lydia was a different kind of witch to Zeke.

I couldn’t smell witches’ magic, not like Bethany Rose, one of the Council enforcers, could, but when Zeke cast spells, the air warmed slightly.

Lydia’s magic felt cold—and so did she. The way her eyes assessed Duke and me, the two full-blooded Shifters on the team, made my skin crawl.

Like we were specimens waiting for her to test new spells on.

She’d claimed a pristine workspace near the southern wall—minimalist and spotless.

A sleek white desk held only a laptop, a leather journal, and an antiquated ballpoint pen.

Her bookshelf displayed perfectly organized magical texts, all with matching bookmarks.

Not a speck of dust anywhere. Even her coffee mug was white porcelain, chosen to match her aesthetic.

Duke had converted part of the western wall into a personal gym. Weight bench, punching bag, a rack of weapons that made me wonder about Kansas City’s concealed carry laws. Everything was military-precise, organized with the kind of attention to detail that spoke of ingrained discipline.

Annabella kept her personal items to a minimum in the common areas—just a few books stacked on a side table and a small collection of crystals on the windowsill that caught the morning light.

What struck me was how their individual spaces had grown together into something that felt like home.

Mira’s cables ran in discrete channels to everyone’s work areas.

Zeke’s herbs scented the entire loft. Lydia’s organizational systems kept the common spaces functional.

Duke’s security measures—motion sensors I’d spotted on my first day—protected them all.

Whether they’d done it consciously or not, they’d created something that felt to me like Pack.

The espresso machine hissed as I finished the last cappuccino just as footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Annabella appeared from her room, hair pulled back in a ponytail that emphasized the silver streak running through the dark waves.

She moved with fluid grace, but I caught the subtle tension in her shoulders, muscles always coiled and ready.

Someone built for fighting, honed by necessity into something both lethal and beautiful.

Sharp cheekbones, stubborn jaw, green eyes that missed nothing—striking rather than conventionally pretty.

In yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt that slipped off one shoulder, she looked younger for a moment. Less guarded. Then she spotted me, and that professional wariness slammed back into place.

“You made coffee?" she said, eyeing me as she entered the kitchen.

I gestured to the espresso machine with a steaming cup beside it. "Cappuccino, extra shot."

She took the mug, giving it a quick glance before taking a sip. “You know, you’re not awful at this.”

I leaned against the counter, watching her. “I'm starting to think my coffee skills are the only reason you haven't kicked me out yet."

The corner of her mouth quirked upward. "Don't sell yourself short. Duke also enjoys having someone new to glare at."

"Happy to provide the service," I replied dryly. "Though I was hoping for something a bit more exciting than being the team barista and Duke's emotional support punching bag."

She studied me for a moment, that calculating look I was coming to recognize. "Careful what you wish for," she said finally. "Excitement around here tends to involve a lot more blood than coffee grounds."

"I can handle myself," I said, meeting her gaze steadily. “So, when do I get to see some real action?”

Her expression grew serious. “You need to understand what you’re asking for. We’re conducting military operations against one of the most powerful organizations in North America.”

“Military operations?” I raised my eyebrows.

Her jaw tightened. “We’re removing corrupt officials from power and ensuring they can’t continue harming innocent people.”

“Right. The memory modification thing. That’s… definitely a unique approach.”

“It works,” she said firmly. “That’s all I care about.”

The elevator dinged. I turned my head as Duke walked out of it, sweat-soaked from his morning run. His tank top clung to his chest, and his running shoes squeaked slightly on the concrete floor.

“What’s with the domestic scene?” Duke glared at me as he removed his AirPods.

“Felix made coffee,” Annabella said, her tone carefully neutral.

Duke’s expression could have curdled milk. “Well, at least he’s useful for something.”

“Just trying to contribute,” I said.

“Yeah? Well, don’t get too comfortable.”

Okay, then.

I handed Duke a mug—black coffee, hot enough to burn—and watched him struggle between his desire to reject anything from me and his obvious need for caffeine. Caffeine won.

“You guys done?” Mira asked as she walked into the room, looking like she’d been awake for hours despite the early hour. She headed straight for her tech corner and started waking up her displays. “Because I’ve got updates on Council movement patterns, and they’re not good.”

Lydia followed Mira in. “Define ‘not good.’”

“They’re changing security protocols. Randomizing schedules, increasing protection details, implementing new communication encryption.” Mira pulled up a holographic display from her tablet, a trick that still impressed me despite having seen it multiple times. “They know we’re hunting them.”

Zeke appeared from the hallway, shoulder-length blond hair still damp from a shower and curling slightly at the ends. “Maybe that’s a sign we should slow down. Reassess our approach.”

“We can’t slow down,” Annabella said firmly. “Not when the Council continues to oppress anyone who doesn’t fit their narrow definition of acceptable. Every day we delay means more witches living in fear, more people getting crushed by their system.”

The conviction in her voice was absolute. She genuinely believed she was fighting for justice.

“I’m ready to help however I can,” I said. “When do we get our next assignment?”

“That depends on intelligence gathering and opportunity. We don’t operate on a schedule; we move when the right targets present themselves.” She studied my face for a moment. “Although, I think it’s time we see what you’re actually capable of beyond coffee service.”

Duke grinned. “Finally.”

Annabella grinned back. “We start training in an hour.”

“What kind of training?” I asked.

Annabella’s smile was sharp as a blade. “The kind where Duke gets to work out some frustration. He’s been itching to test what you’re capable of.”

Duke cracked his knuckles, his grin widening.

“Oh, fuck yeah! This I have to see!” said Mina.

Fantastic. Just fucking fantastic.