Page 118 of The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate
We discuss the Covenant compound for two hours.
Kain lays out what he knows about the one where he was held for years. He says the structures of the compounds are all similar; he knows that much. Also Covenant cell structure, the pairing of enhanced operatives with conventional fighter teams. The perimeter in the squadron’s drawing matches two compounds Kain saw operate from the inside before he defected. He confirms that the central structure in the layout is almostcertainly the holding facility. Captives, prisoners, anyone they’re keeping alive for use.
Sienna leans forward at that. “If Meera is anywhere,” she says quietly, “she’s in there. If she’s alive.”
Reese shifts against the wall. “Miss Carter, Moonvale ran a coordinated assault on a fortified compound three years back. The Hartson operation. I read the after-action report. Your division contributed the strategic framework. Could you walk us through how Moonvale handles entry against a rotation perimeter?”
She answers him cleanly. The framework. The timing windows. Feint patrols at one perimeter point to draw rotation toward it while the actual entry happens elsewhere. Layered insertion of small teams at staggered intervals. Her voice is steady, her hands quiet on the desk. She is, frankly, brilliant.
And I am, frankly, jealous.
My jaw has tightened. The look I send Reese sits on him a little too long, and Reese, who has been a commander for eleven years and has never once misread a room, registers exactly what is happening and addresses his next question to Darius.
Sienna catches it all.
She doesn’t look at me, and I see her bite the inside of her cheek hard to keep her expression neutral. The corner of her mouth does something it should not be doing in a war meeting, and I have to drop my eyes to the layout sketch on the desk to keep my own face from breaking.
Darius watches me. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyebrows rise as he turns away.
The meeting comes to an end. We agree to reconvene tomorrow morning with maps and force allocations. Everyone in the room rises.
I catch Sienna’s wrist before she can leave. The others file out. My hand pushes the door shut behind them.
She turns to me with that face, the one that knows exactly what is coming and is enjoying it thoroughly. I pin her against the wall and kiss her.
She laughs against my mouth. “Reese knows you almost lost your mind.”
“He’s a professional. He’ll get over it.”
“He was asking me a professional question.”
“My wolf doesn’t know what professional means.” I find the bond mark at her throat with my mouth. “You’re mine,” I tell her against the warm skin under her ear. “I will not be sorry about it.”
“Mm.”
Her hand grasps the back of my neck.
“I know.”
I keep her here for another minute. Her hip presses against my hand. A small sigh leaves her when my mouth moves down her throat. The bond hums between us, full and quiet at once, every door between us thrown open.
Finally, I let her go.
When it’stime to get ready for dinner, Sienna sits at the dressing table and threads an earring through her lobe. The folded piece of wine-colored satin from the chair is gone. One of the staff has taken it for laundering despite my instructions.
I open the chest at the foot of the bed. A small, dark, velvet box waits at the bottom under the linens, untouched in years. I bring it out. The velvet is worn smooth at the corners from a child’s hands—my own, before I learned to leave it where I had been told to leave it.
Sienna catches my movement in the mirror and turns on the stool, curious.
I cross to her and hold out the box. “I’ve been meaning to give you this.”
Her hands come up. She takes the box and lifts the lid.
A gold pendant rests on the velvet inside. The chain is fine, the metal worked in a scrolling pattern that does not belong to anything in current fashion. A single stone at the center, dark, set deep.
She lifts her eyes to mine. “Lucas.”
“It was my mother’s.”
