Juno’s hand flies to her mouth. Arrow’s eyes turn hard. Gage looks like he wants to flip the table. River’s face crumples with horror.
And Ozzy slams the phone down so hard it rattles the laptops. “No,” he says, voice shaking now with something raw. “No. That’s not Poe. Poe would never—” His words break off.
Dean speaks with the kind of calm that scares me more than yelling. “We treat Poe as compromised. We locate him. We do it fast.”
Ozzy’s eyes are glassy. “You’re saying he’s the mole.”
Dean holds his gaze. “I’m saying everything points to him.”
Ozzy turns his head, like he’s searching the room for someone to argue with. For someone to tell him this is a mistake.
Nobody does.
Rae’s eyes drop to her keyboard. Sawyer’s jaw tightens. Arrow looks like a man ready to go to war. Juno grips his arm. Lark’s hand curls into a fist. Knight shifts closer to her. River squeezes Gage’s hand.
My chest feels hollow. The worst part is that I barely know Poe, yet I can already feel how much Ozzy does. How much losing trust in him costs.
“How?” Ozzy whispers, voice rough. “Why?”
Dean’s gaze flicks toward me. “Salem’s father said Serafina is closer than we think. Poe being the mole would fit that warning.”
My stomach twists. Closer than we think. Closer means inside. Inside means family.
Dean looks at Sawyer. “Lock down. Rotate codes. Physical checks. Nobody moves alone.”
Sawyer nods. “Already in motion.”
Arrow’s voice comes out low and lethal. “We find him.”
Dean nods once. “We will.”
Ozzy stands so fast his chair scrapes. “I’m going.”
Dean’s eyes sharpen. “You’re not going alone.”
Ozzy’s gaze flicks to me, and something soft breaks through the fury. He reaches for my hand, squeezing hard. “I’m not leaving her.”
Dean’s face softens a fraction. “You’re not. You’re taking her somewhere safer. Then you come back and we hunt.”
My stomach tightens. “I want to help.”
Ozzy’s thumb strokes my knuckles. “Not tonight.”
I hate that my eyes burn, but I nod because I can feel how close he is to snapping. If I fight him right now, he’ll break.
The meeting fractures into motion. People moving, voices low, plans being formed in clipped sentences. I catch words like perimeter, traffic cams, burner channels, dead drops, safehouse rotation.
Poe’s name keeps repeating like a wound.
I let Ozzy guide me out of the Aquarium. He walks fast, his body vibrating with anger. We pass through corridors and doors and into the parking lot where the air’s cold and sharp.
He gets me into a vehicle without speaking much, hands steady even though I can see the tremor in his jaw. The drive to his house is a blur of streetlights and silence.
When we arrive, he walks me inside like he’s afraid I’ll evaporate if he lets go. His house smells like him. Clean soap, metal, and something faintly spicy from whatever he cooks whenever things are normal.
He locks the door. Then he locks it again. He checks windows. He checks rooms. He checks every corner like he is fighting the urge to tear the walls down and rebuild them stronger. Finally, he comes back to the living room where I sit on the couch with my hands tucked under my thighs to stop them from shaking.
He stands in front of me for a moment, breathing hard. Then he kneels. His hands cup my face gently, careful of my bruise. “I love you,” he says. The words are steady, but his eyes look wrecked.