Thalia’s POV
The library clock reads 2:07 AM, and I'm surrounded by paper.
Attack timelines pinned to the corkboard. Access records in chronological layers. Communication intercepts stacked by frequency.
Weeks of evidence compressed into a single night's obsession, because sleep isn't coming and my mind won't stop chewing on the pattern I can almost see.
I pull the first attack report—our home invasion. The hunters knew security codes, the house layout, which bedroom the children slept in.
That information was available to anyone who'd been inside our house within the last year. A long list—pack members, visitors, maintenance crews, the wolves who helped renovate the children's wing after Kieran's return.
The second attack targeted patrol routes changed four hours before the ambush. Only three people knew the new route: me, and the two wolves who died.
Sealed information that leaked anyway.
The third attack hit the school perimeter during pickup. The hunters knew exactly when the children would be outside, which gate they'd use, which wolves were assigned to escort duty.
Standard scheduling information—available to anyone involved in school logistics. But the attack on the children's wing…
That's the one that keeps pulling me back.
The hunters didn't just know the house layout or the children's rooms. They knew Kieran would position himself in the hallway.
They knew he'd take a strike meant for Phoenix and his protective instincts toward his daughter would override self-preservation.
That's knowledge born from watching a family up close—seeing how a father moves around his children, understanding Kieran's particular devotion to Phoenix.
"You're still awake."
Caroline stands in the library doorway, wrapped in one of Lysander's hoodies, hair loose. The emotional weight of the day shows in her posture.
"I can't stop. The pattern is almost there, right at the edge of where I can see it."
"Can I help?" She crosses to the desk, scanning the spread of documents with the analytical focus I've come to rely on. "What are you looking for?"
"The scope of knowledge. Every attack demonstrated intelligence that spans different time periods and access levels."
I tap the reports in sequence. "Security codes from before I became Luna. School pickup routines established last month. The layout of Magnus's residence that burned—a building most current pack members have never entered."
"That's a wide range. Most moles operate within a specific access window—they know what they've seen since infiltration. This person has an institutional memory going back years."
"Exactly! We should narrow it to longtime pack members. Wolves who've been here long enough to accumulate that depth of knowledge."
"Unless—" Caroline pulls a chair beside me, her brow furrowing. "The information isn't coming from one person's direct observation. What if someone is collecting intelligence from multiple sources? A conduit rather than an observer."
"Someone trusted enough to move freely through the compound."
"And whose job involves exactly that kind of cross-functional access."
I stare at her. The pattern clicks into focus with a clarity that makes my vision swim.
"Pull the communication intercepts you helped decrypt last week. The ones from the dead-drop frequency."
Caroline retrieves the files. We spread them across the desk—intercepted transmissions between the hunters' command structure and their source inside Silvermoon. The content is coded, but the timing and frequency tell their own story.
"Look at the transmission schedule," I line up the dates. "Information goes out within twelve hours of key pack decisions. Patrol changes, security updates, operational briefings—there's a consistent lag that suggests the source has access but needs time to reach their communication point."
"The dead-drop location is outside the compound perimeter. Someone would need a regular reason to leave pack territory without raising suspicion."
We both stop. School escort teams.
"The wolves who walk the children to school and back," I say slowly. "They leave the compound twice daily on a fixed schedule, pass through the perimeter checkpoint, and have three to four unsupervised minutes during the handoff at the school gate."
"Enough time to make a dead-drop. And their position gives them access to the children's schedules, the family's routines, household security information shared during morning briefings—"
"And observation of how Kieran interacts with Phoenix," my hands are trembling. "He stands there talking to her, holding her hand, adjusting her backpack. The escort wolf watches this every single day."
"Who's on the escort rotation?"
I pull the assignment records with fingers that won't stop shaking. Three wolves rotate escort duty: Sarah, Marcus, and Darren.
Sarah has been with Silvermoon since before I was born. Marcus is head of perimeter security, vetted dozens of times. Darren—
"When did Darren join the pack?"
Caroline checks the personnel files I've been accumulating. "Six months ago. Transferred from..."
She trails off, reading more carefully.
"His previous pack affiliation is listed as the Cascade Creek pack in eastern Washington. But there's no confirmation of that—just his verbal claim during intake processing."
"Nobody verified it?"
"The intake was during the leadership transition when Kieran was first injured. Standard verification protocols were deprioritized in favor of immediate security concerns."
She looks up at me. "Thalia, Darren has been walking your children to school every third day for four months."
The floor tilts beneath me. Quiet, reliable Darren with the easy smile the children liked. Phoenix specifically requested him for morning escorts because he told her jokes during the walk and didn't treat her strength like something frightening.
"He knew which bedroom was hers. He knew Kieran walked them to the handoff. He knew Phoenix is the one Kieran gravitates toward, the one he'd die for without hesitation." My voice sounds distant, someone else's.
"We trusted him with our children, Caroline. We handed him our kids every morning and let him walk them through pack territory with a smile on his face."
"He might not be acting alone. The quality of intelligence suggests a handler—someone coordinating what he collects and directing what the hunters need."
"One thing at a time," I reach for the security radio, my hand steadier than the rest of me. "We confirm, then we act."
"What are you going to do?"
"To have Darren brought in. Quietly, before he realizes we've made the connection. If he's the conduit, he knows who's directing the attacks."
"And if he won't talk?"
"I remind him that Silvermoon's Luna is a white wolf who nearly killed her own sister for threatening her children."
I key the radio:
"Security, I need Darren Walsh brought to the main house immediately. Discreetly, no explanation given. Containment protocol."
"Copy, Luna. ETA fifteen minutes."
I set down the radio and stare at the wall of evidence—weeks of death and destruction traced back to a wolf who tucked my daughter's backpack straps before school and told her knock-knock jokes while walking her through the gate.
Caroline places her hand over mine on the desk. "We found him."
"Whoever's pulling his strings is still out there," I turn my hand over, gripping hers. "And when Darren tells me who that is—and he will—I'm going to find them too."
The library clock ticks past 3 AM. Somewhere in the compound, a wolf named Darren is about to learn what happens when a mother discovers who's been selling her children's safety to the highest bidder.