Felicia sat at the small desk in her room with the blank paper spread before her. She picked up her pen and began to write. Short sentences, dry facts, nothing that could touch the children.
The document took shape under her hand. Official language, formal structure, the kind of thing that looked important without actually being important. She signed it at the bottom the way she signed all pack orders.
Danny was asleep behind her. Max played quietly with his blocks. The room felt too small suddenly, the walls pressing in.
Felicia stood and carried the document into the corridor. Damien was there, positioned where he'd been all morning. She held out the paper. "Show this to only two people. Only with camera coverage."
Her tone left no room for interpretation. Damien took the document and read it once, quickly. Then he repeated her instructions back. "Two people only. Camera coverage required."
He said it loud enough for her to hear every word clearly. Confirmation that he understood, that he wouldn't deviate from her plan.
Felicia nodded once. Damien folded the document carefully and left. His footsteps faded down the corridor, and she was alone again.
She went back into the room. Checked Danny's forehead again, felt his pulse, counted his breaths. Then she moved to the door and looked out. The corridor was empty. Guards at both ends, but no Damien.
Ten minutes passed. Felicia checked the corridor again. Still empty. Her fingers drummed against the doorframe, a nervous rhythm she couldn't quite control.
Twenty minutes. She opened the door wider this time and leaned out. One of the guards glanced at her but said nothing.
An hour. Danny woke and asked for water. Felicia gave it to him and settled him back down. Then she checked the corridor for the fourth time.
Footsteps. Damien appeared at the end of the hall, walking with his usual controlled pace. He didn't come straight to the door. Instead, he stopped a few feet away and knocked on the frame.
"Report." Felicia kept the door half-closed, her body blocking the entrance.
Damien's voice stayed quiet and professional. "One of them reacted too fast. Asked a question he should only know if he's the leak."
Felicia's pulse kicked up. Her fingers tightened on the door edge. "That's almost proof."
Her voice came out cold and sharp. Damien nodded once.
"Pressure with actions. Not words." She gave the order without softening it.
"Understood." Damien shifted his weight slightly. "I'll isolate him through a formal review. No accusations, just procedure."
Felicia studied his face. Looking for hesitation, for signs he'd improvise or take shortcuts. She found only steady focus.
"With me present." Not a request. A requirement.
"With you." Damien agreed immediately, no argument or suggestion that she didn't need to be there.
Felicia pulled the door open wider. Not all the way, just enough for him to stand on the threshold. "Details. Now."
Damien stepped forward exactly one step. His shoulders stayed square to her, hands visible at his sides. He laid out the plan in short sentences, giving her every piece so she could evaluate and adjust.
Felicia listened. Asked three questions. Changed two elements of his approach. He accepted every change without defending his original ideas.
When they finished, she gestured toward his office. They walked in silence, her leading and him following half a step behind. The packhouse moved around them, people going about their day unaware of what was being set in motion.
Inside the office, Felicia sat. Damien remained standing until she pointed at the chair across from her. Then he lowered himself into it, his posture upright but not tense.
"If we're wrong, the enemy gets more aggressive." Her tone was harsh, direct. "They'll know we're hunting."
Damien met her eyes. "There won't be a mistake. I'm giving the decision to you."
The words landed between them. Felicia leaned forward slightly, studying his expression. "Are you ready for me to lead even your people?"
Silence. Two seconds that felt like ten. Then Damien spoke. "Yes."
The word sounded like submission. But not forced, not dragged out of him by circumstance. Chosen. A deliberate yielding of authority because he believed she should have it.
Felicia's chest tightened. She pushed past the feeling and focused on the practical. "Tomorrow. The isolation happens quietly. No shouting, no humiliation. We don't spook the others."
"Agreed." Damien's voice stayed steady. "I'll execute it precisely."
Felicia stood. The movement felt weighted, significant in a way she couldn't quite name. She took half a step closer to him, closing some of the distance between them.
"I notice your control." Her voice dropped quieter, softer than she'd intended. "But I don't forget the pain."
Damien didn't move toward her. His hands stayed on the arms of the chair, gripping lightly but not rising. "I'm not asking you to forget."
The words were simple. Honest. No deflection, no attempt to minimize what he'd done or rush past the damage.
Felicia nodded once. She turned and walked to the door, leaving him sitting there. Not cutting him off or slamming the exit, just moving first while he stayed behind.
He stood and followed. His footsteps matched her pace as they reached the door together. Damien's hand moved past her to grasp the handle, and he pulled it open.
Their bodies were close. Close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that one shift would bring them into contact. But his hand stayed on the door, carefully positioned so it wouldn't brush against hers.
Felicia walked through. No flinch, no sudden jerk away. Just smooth movement that acknowledged his presence without retreating from it.
The corridor stretched ahead of them. Back to her wing, back to the children, back to the careful boundaries they'd been maintaining. But something had shifted in that office. Something that felt like the ground becoming more solid beneath her feet.
He'd given her authority over his people. Had accepted her leadership without resentment or hidden resistance. And when she'd acknowledged the pain, he hadn't tried to erase it or make excuses.
That mattered. Maybe more than anything else so far, that mattered.
Tomorrow they'd spring the trap. Would isolate a potential traitor and see if their theory held. And she'd be there beside him, not behind him or in his shadow. Beside him as an equal in this fragile partnership they were building.
The thought should have terrified her. Should have sent her walls shooting back up. But exhaustion was winning over fear, and hope was a dangerous thing to feel.