Anya didn't hesitate. She ignored the tremor of Kaelan's Command and focused. Don't run, scout.
She quickly examined the sealed bedroom door, then moved to the sleek, obsidian nightstand. It held Kaelan's personal data-slate, locked with Lycan encryption.
She pulled a small metal hairpin—a tool fashioned from the ornamental wiring—from her nightgown. Her fingers, fine-tuned by years of technical training, began working on the lock, mapping the digital shifts.
"You're a brute, Kaelan Vex," she muttered, "but even Alphas have patterns."
Seconds later, the data-slate clicked open. Anya ignored messages, racing to the Clan's tactical data. She found a document titled: Council Threat Assessment: Primal Failure.
The document wasn't about the conspirators; it was about Kaelan. Primal Failure: Subject Kaelan Vex exhibits intermittent control over the innate Lycan ability to fully 'sense' the pack bond, especially over long distances. Risk: Inability to enforce Alpha Command over distant members.
Anya's heart leapt. His primary power—the Alpha Command—was geographically limited. The 100-meter rule wasn't just to track her; he needed to be close to her for the bond to work perfectly.
The screen flashed: Kaelan was returning. She raced back to the bed, sliding the data-slate back. She feigned exhaustion just as the door clicked open.
Kaelan stood silhouetted, covered in blood, his rifle in his hand. "Why are you still awake?" he demanded.
Anya looked him straight in his eyes. "Did you remember to clean up the mess you left in my office, Alpha?"