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Caitlynn was quiet for a long time. She traced the ward anchor points on the map with her finger, her lips pressed together, her focus absolute despite the baby pulling at her collar.

“The anchor stakes are iron,” she said slowly. “The resonance frequency is calibrated to the Alpha bond, which is stable. But the witch magic, my layer, it’s atmospheric. It draws from the ambient energy in the environment.” She looked at him. “Humidity changes conductivity. If the moisture content in the air shifts the resonance frequency at the anchor points, even by a few hertz, there could be gaps. Microseconds where the detection layer thins.”

“Microseconds is enough?”

“For a wolf who knows the timing? A wolf who’s been watching the wards for months, cataloging the pattern?” She picked up Elianna, held her tighter against her chest. “Yes. Microseconds are enough.”

Chris folded the timeline. Put it back in his pocket. “He’s not guessing when to come through. He’s reading the weather. He knows when the wards weaken because he’s been out there long enough to map every fluctuation.”

“I didn’t know about this.” Her voice had gone tight. “Chris, I built that matrix. I calibrated every anchor point myself. I didn’t account for atmospheric interference because the Alpha bond component is stable regardless of conditions. I assumed my layer was, too.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have tested for it.”

“Caitlynn.”

She looked at him. Her green eyes were bright, her freckles standing out against skin that had gone pale. Elianna tugged at her hair. Caitlynn didn’t seem to notice.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

“I can recalibrate the resonance frequency to compensate for humidity variance. It’ll take time. I’ll need to walk every anchor point, adjust each one individually. The matrix is interconnected. If I change one without adjusting the others, I could create worse gaps.”

“How long?”

“Three days, if I start today. Five if I want to be thorough.”

“Be thorough.”

She nodded. Her mouth was set in the line he recognized from their childhood, the expression she wore when she was angry at herself for missing an answer. He’d seen it over homework, over burnt dinners in foster kitchens, over the first failed ward experiment she’d run when her magic was still new.

“He’s been watching us,” Caitlynn said quietly. “He’s been sitting out there in the tree line, in the rain, timing the wards. For years.”

“At least.”

“That’s not just patience, Chris. That’s obsession.”

He thought about the notes in Sloane’s drawer. The handwriting. I see you, sweetheart. The precision of it, the careful spacing, the tobacco smell pressed into the paper.

“He believes she belongs to him,” Chris said. “He’s spent twenty years believing that.”

Caitlynn held his gaze. “Then we need to make sure she doesn’t.”

He stood. Touched Elianna’s head, the soft fuzz of her hair warm under his palm. The baby gurgled up at him with Kahn’s dark eyes.

“I’ll tell Viktor,” he said with a nod.

“I’ll start the recalibration this afternoon.”

He left the garden. The morning air was cool, the fog from last night still clinging to the valley floor, thin now, burning off. He stopped at the gate and looked east, toward the tree line, toward the ridge where the ward anchors ran in their invisible line between the compound and the wilderness beyond.

Garrett was out there. Had been out there for months, patient, methodical, tracking the wards the way a hunter tracked prey. Learning when the defenses thinned. Learning exactly how long each window lasted.

Chris turned back toward the compound. He had a briefing to prepare, a vulnerability to report, a timeline to hand Viktor.

And twelve feet of stone wall between his bed and a woman he could no longer pretend he didn’t care about.

Chapter 14 - Sloane