Page 208 of My Unhinged Alphas
Marek goes white. He’s out of his chair so fast it nearly tips over behind him. “I’m sorry,” he says at once. “I didn’t know this line was being monitored, I wasn’t told, I didn’t mean to overstep.”
Havoc and Vale say nothing.
I can feel both of them go as still as I am.
The figure on the screen shifts slightly. “You have not overstepped,” he says. “Sit down.”
Marek doesn’t sit. He looks like a man trying to decide whether standing is disrespectful or collapsing would be worse.
Havoc says, under his breath, “Well.”
Vale doesn’t answer.
Neither do I.
Because this is not normal, even by our standards.
The figure seems to know exactly what he’s doing to the room by appearing this way. He lets the silence lengthen just enough, then says, “You are wondering whether I am who I claim to be.”
Havoc tilts his head. “And who might that be?”
The man on the screen answers without pause. “Andrew.”
My gaze cuts over him, to the blood-red signet ring on his left hand.
Holy shit. I see Havoc’s face. He’s thinking the same thing I am.
An Apostle. Not a rumor. Not a name routed through orders and older men and chain-of-command distance. An actual Apostle looking back at us through Marek’s stolen signal like he reached down and tore a hole in the whole machine just to get in front of us directly.
Marek recovers first, barely. “I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. “I didn’t realize.”
Andrew inclines his head once, not kindly, not cruelly. Just enough to show he heard him. “You were not meant to,” he says.
Marek looks like he wants to disappear into the wall. Instead he stands there, hands useless at his sides, waiting for instruction like a man who knows better than to speak again unless spoken to.
Andrew’s gaze shifts, and even through the screen I can feel it settle on the three of us.
“Marek,” he says, “leave us alone for a few minutes.”
Marek doesn’t argue. He nods once and backs out of the room so quickly it would almost be funny in any other life.
The door closes.
No one speaks. Not because there are no questions. Because none of us has quite caught up yet.
Havoc is the one who finds his voice first. Of course he is.
“Well,” he says softly. “This is new.”
Andrew ignores that too. “You were right to be cautious,” he says. “The message that reached you after the fire was not from me.”
The room goes colder.
Vale steps closer to the desk. “What?”
“With respect,” Havoc says, and for once even he sounds careful, “that insight would’ve been more useful earlier.”
Vale cuts him a look sharp enough to draw blood. I don’t take my eyes off the screen.
