Later that evening, the strategy room in the palace hummed with quiet tension. Maps covered the large table, marked with red lines and notes.

Derek stood at the head, arms crossed, studying the latest intelligence with a deep frown, with Declan at his side, the pair of them tracing routes and chokepoints, working out how best to corner Rolf before the man could slip the noose again.

Kai was propped up on a sofa nearby, a blanket thrown over his legs, still a shade paler but clearly enjoying the chance to be involved again. A few senior gammas hovered around, waiting for orders.

Kai had refused, point-blank, to be left out of a war council, and after days of lying in a place, no one had quite found the nerve to argue with him.

The door opened, and a gamma from the hunting clan stepped in and bowed.

"Your Grace. We tracked Brian’s car." He hesitated. "We found it drowned in a river about twenty miles from the borders of The Central."

Derek’s head came up from the map.

The gamma crossed to Declan and handed over a phone in a clear evidence bag, along with a few other recovered items, then straightened.

"We didn’t find Brian’s body, Your Grace," he said. "We dragged the area thoroughly. The car was empty. Doors locked from the inside, but no sign of him."

Derek’s jaw tightened. "Too convenient," he muttered. "Did that bastard just fake his death?"

"But why would he?" Declan turned the bagged phone over in his hand, frowning. "What does he gain from it?"

Derek’s eyes darkened as he remembered what Kira had confessed the night before about Brian’s harassment. "If he did fake it, he is planning something. And we need to find out what before it bites us."

He pulled out his phone and dialled Kira’s number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. He stepped away from the table, his frown deepening, and called Connor instead.

Connor picked up on the first ring. "Your Grace."

"Where is the Queen?" Derek asked.

"She is still in the hall for the introduction night, Your Grace," Connor replied promptly. "My eyes have not left her."

"Good. Keep them there." Derek’s voice dropped, hard and quiet. "Strict watch on the Queen tonight, Connor. Tomorrow too. Every moment. And I want Petra sleeping inside her room, not outside the door. Inside. Is that understood?"

"Understood, Your Grace."

Derek hung up, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He turned back to the group just as Declan signalled that Bruce was on the secure line. Derek moved to the large screen where Bruce’s face appeared.

"What is the latest?" Derek asked.

"Confirmation," Bruce said. "Solid this time. I’ve pinned Rolf’s exact location. He’s not moving from it tonight, far as I can tell."

"Good work." Derek nodded. "Truly. That’s the break we needed."

Then, in the same even tone, he added, "By the way, Bruce. What are your father’s and mother’s names?"

On the screen, Bruce’s brow creased in confusion. Around the table, Declan and the others exchanged confused glances. Even Kai raised an eyebrow from the sofa.

"My... parents?" Bruce said slowly. "Dean and Betty, Your Grace. Why?"

Derek nodded as though this were the most ordinary question in the world. "And how many siblings do you have?"

"Two," Bruce answered, more baffled by the second. "Your Grace, I don’t quite—"

What in the goddess’s name are you doing? Declan’s voice slid into Derek’s mind, sharp with bewilderment. Why are you grilling Bruce about his family tree in the middle of a war council?

Because Derek linked back smoothly, never breaking his gaze from the screen, I’ve come to understand something about the Umbras. They might take up the shape and scent of a person, but they do not get the memories.

He took a few steps away from the table.

So during this war, when you meet someone you think you know, ask them something only the real person would know. A history. A childhood story. Anything. The body might be a lie. The answer will catch it. Communicate this to every gamma moving with us tonight.

He clapped Declan once on the shoulder.

Declan’s lip twitched into a slow, appreciative smile, and he nodded. Clever. Exactly the sort of thinking that had kept Dravengard standing for eight years.

Derek turned back to Bruce, who was still waiting, thoroughly bemused.

"Forgive the strange questions," Derek said. "Get your men ready, Bruce. We attack tonight."

***

Meanwhile, at the Queen’s Conference, the introduction night had finally wrapped up. The grand hall was buzzing with conversation as new and established Lunas mingled, but Kira had managed to slip away from the latest cluster of polite chatter and reached into her clutch for her phone.

She had silenced it for the formalities and only now switched it back on.

A few messages from Derek popped up. She smiled softly, warmth spreading through her chest as she read his short but sweet words. She quickly typed a reply, her thumbs moving fast.

Connor appeared at her side and dipped his head. "Your Highness. The cars are ready. We’ll escort you to the hotel now."

"Of course." She tucked the phone away and fell into step beside him, the guards closing in around her as they made for the entrance.

Halfway there, her phone pinged again. Thinking it was Derek replying, she pulled it out eagerly. But the message was from an unknown number.

You look so beautiful in beige.

Kira’s smile died on the spot.

She knew exactly who had sent that without needing a single more clue. Her head came up, and her eyes swept the emptying hall, scanning every face, every doorway, every shadowed corner. But there was no single sign of him.

Her phone chimed again in her hand.

I have a secret to confess to you, Kira. Meet me by the pool at your hotel in one hour. You’ll want to hear this one. I promise.

Kira’s jaw set hard.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Connor asked.

"Ye-yes." She looked around. "If you see Brian anywhere around here tonight, make sure to apprehend him."

"Of course, Your Highness." He bowed.

Her thumbs moved fast across the screen, and she typed back, with all the warmth of a slammed door:

You can take your secrets and shove them straight up your arse.