Not since Conner left. Not since the six who walked out with him.
“Let’s be prepared,” I say. “Double the night watch. South and west. Pull Cal off the junction.”
“Where do you want Cal?”
“Rotate him into the perimeter. The junction doesn’t need a man anymore.”
Dawes nods. Doesn’t move.
“They won’t come through the fence,” he says. “Not now. The facility went up last month. The council case is building. There’s too much heat on the network to risk more exposure. They’ll use the records, play the political angle. But they’re not sending men through our fence while the spotlight’s on them.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know probability.” He holds my eyes. “I’ve got this. The compound is covered. I know which direction trouble comes from and what to do when it arrives.” The thumbnail again, one slow drag along the seam. “Whatever’s got you walking toward the north gate three times a day — go deal with it. Come back when you can think straight. You’re no use to this pack the way you are now.”
It should rankle. It doesn’t.
“It’s not pack business,” I say.
“No. But you are.”
He goes.
I stand in the meeting hall with my thumb pressed into the scar on my left forearm — the first one she made, the one closest to my wrist. The ache when I press is clean and specific. I press harder. The burn retreats half a step. I let go, and it comes back.
My phone buzzes. Conner’s name on the screen.
I answer. “Still breathing,” I say. “In case that’s why you called.”
“We were worried.” Flat. Not warm.
“Worried that I might not survive your little assassination attempt?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
Conner heaves a breath. “Briar went in alone. Nobody sanctioned it.”
Briar.
I taste the word. That’s her name. I can’t believe that she’s been burrowing under my skin for days and I never knew he name.
I don’t say anything.
“Garrett. What happened?”
“Nothing I need your help with.”
“You sure about that?” he presses.
“I’m a big boy, Conner, in case you’ve forgotten. And generally, you’re the one needing help from me.”
“Right. Sure.” His voice is icy again. The line goes quiet. Then he’s gone.
Goddammit, Forrester. Did you have to be such a dick?
I should have used that to reopen the door between us.
Too late now.
I head out into the yard. My feet carry me past the porch steps and onto the path that leads to the north gate. I’m twenty paces down it before I catch what I’m doing.