Felicia arranged the call in the office with specific conditions. Curtains open, letting afternoon light flood the space. Damien positioned across from her where she could see his face clearly. No cameras behind her back.
She gestured to the chair. "Sit there. You stay silent unless I allow you to speak."
Damien sat without protest. He took his phone from his pocket and placed it face down on the desk. No distractions, no divided attention.
Felicia dialed Lucien's number and activated the speaker. The connection clicked through, and his voice came through clear. "Felicia."
"I need facts." Her tone came out harsh, cutting. "Not hints."
No pleasantries. No easing into the conversation. Straight to business.
Lucien's voice carried careful neutrality. "The intermediary meets at the old grain depot. North side. There's a mark on the wall, three vertical lines crossed by one horizontal."
Felicia wrote rapidly in her notebook. Her pen moved across the page in quick, efficient strokes. She didn't look up when she spoke.
"Three questions." Her voice stayed cold, precise. "Who passes the information? When do they meet? Through whom does it flow?"
"I don't have the name." Lucien paused. "But I know the route. They move through the eastern border checkpoints, always at dawn. The chain goes through at least two handlers before reaching the final destination."
"Give me the full route." Felicia's demand left no room for partial answers.
Lucien detailed the path. Street names, landmarks, timing windows. Felicia recorded every word, her handwriting sharp and controlled.
Across from her, Damien sat motionless. His jaw worked, muscles tensing beneath skin. But he didn't speak, didn't interrupt. His hands stayed flat on the desk, fingers spread wide.
The conversation continued for another five minutes. Lucien provided additional details. Felicia extracted every piece of information with surgical precision. When she had what she needed, she reached for the phone.
"We're done." She ended the call herself, her finger pressing the button with finality.
She set the phone down and looked at Damien. "We don't hide. We don't play secrets."
Damien nodded once. No jealous comments. No questions about why another Alpha had information he didn't. Just acceptance.
Felicia studied him for a long moment. His face stayed neutral, but she'd seen the tension. Recognized the effort it took to stay silent.
"Is it hard?" She asked directly. "That I communicate with Lucien without going through you?"
Damien's throat moved as he swallowed. "Yes. It's hard."
The admission came out quietly, honestly. Then he continued, "But I don't have the right to forbid it. I lost the right to control you when I betrayed your trust."
The words landed between them with weight. Felicia's pen stilled on the page. She looked at him carefully, assessing the statement for hidden manipulation or attempts to gain sympathy.
"That's the right answer." She spoke evenly.
She pushed the notebook closer to him across the desk. Not handing it over, but making it accessible. Damien looked down at it, then back up at her.
"Do you really want me to read this?" His voice came out careful, asking permission rather than assuming.
"Yes." One word, clear and final.
Damien leaned forward and read the notes. His eyes scanned the page, taking in the route details and observations. When he finished, he pushed the notebook back to her side of the desk. Didn't keep it or suggest taking photos. Just returned it to her control.
"Tomorrow we check this route." Felicia closed the notebook.
"Agreed." Damien's tone shifted to work mode. Professional and focused.
He stood when she did, moving toward the door. His hand reached for the handle, pulling it open for her. Felicia walked through, passing close to him in the doorway.
Damien's other hand stayed at his side. He didn't let it drift toward the small of her back, didn't guide or direct her movement. Just held the door and let her pass on her own terms.
Felicia registered the absence of touch. The deliberate restraint. She didn't flinch or pull away because there was nothing to avoid. No invasion of her space.
They moved into the corridor. Felicia stopped and turned to face him. "You're controlling yourself better than before."
The observation came out quiet, acknowledging what she'd noticed. Damien met her eyes.
"I'm learning." Two words. Simple. No expectation of praise or request for recognition of how hard it was.
They walked down the corridor together. Their steps matched, finding the same rhythm. Not her leading and him following, but moving as a unit. Like a work team executing a plan.
Pack members passed them in the hallway. A few glanced over with curiosity, but no one stopped or questioned. Felicia and Damien together was becoming a familiar sight, stripped of the drama it once carried.
When they reached the point where the corridor split, Damien stopped. "I'll coordinate the security check for the route. Have the team ready by seven AM."
"Make it six." Felicia corrected. "Dawn timing matters."
"Six." Damien adjusted without argument.
They separated there, each moving toward their respective destinations. No prolonged goodbye or manufactured reason to stay close. Just the clean division of two people with separate tasks.
In her room later, Felicia added notes to the page. Lucien's information formed a pattern when laid out visually. The route had vulnerabilities, points where intervention was possible.
Tomorrow would test whether the information was solid. Whether Lucien's intel held up under investigation. But tonight, she focused on something else.
Damien's restraint during the call. His admission that control was hard but not his right. The way he'd asked permission to read her notes instead of assuming access. How he'd opened the door without touching her.
Small actions. Individually insignificant. But together they formed a pattern of respect, of boundaries honored even when it cost him something.
Her chest tightened with something complicated. Not forgiveness, not yet. But recognition that change was happening. That he was choosing differently, consistently, without demanding acknowledgment for each choice.
Outside her window, the packhouse settled into evening. Tomorrow would bring field work, danger, the test of whether their fragile cooperation could hold under pressure.
But tonight, she acknowledged progress. Slow. Careful. Real.
Two people learning to work together without the weight of betrayal crushing every interaction. Building trust one boundary at a time.