Chapter 90

**ARIA**

The conference room was smaller than the one we usually used, and I suspected Adam chose it on purpose. Tighter quarters meant we had to sit closer together, meant distractions were fewer, and maybe, just maybe, it kept tensions contained. Not that it would do much good today.
Cassius was seated to my right, one arm draped protectively behind Leila, who was perched beside him with her legs crossed and an expression that said she was already five seconds from tearing someone apart. Rosalie, always theatrical, had conjured herself a floating pen that was lazily twirling above her notepad, though her eyes were sharp with interest. Adam stood at the head of the table, arms folded across his chest, and the tension radiating off him was almost visible.

And then there was Austin—or rather, Austin’s voice, coming through the phone set in the middle of the table.

"I still can’t believe you brought him in," Austin growled. "Of all the idiotic—"

"We’ve gone over this," Adam interrupted.

"No, we haven’t. Because if we had, someone would’ve stopped you from letting Dracula’s smirking cousin into our home base."

"He’s not Dracula’s cousin," Rosalie said helpfully. "More like his overly flirtatious neighbor."

Cassius snorted. Leila smirked. Adam pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Austin, let Adam speak," I said, trying to keep the peace.

"I’d love to, Aria. But every time I start a sentence—"

"Austin," Adam cut in again, with the calm of someone who had absolutely no intention of letting him finish that sentence.

"See?!" Austin's voice came through, half a second from blowing up. "This is a violation of my basic rights. I’m being censored."

"Austin," I said again, this time trying not to laugh. "Let’s just hear him out. Please."

A beat of silence. Then a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But someone owes me snacks for this."

Adam cleared his throat, reclaiming the room. "Caedmon is a threat, yes. I realize that now more than anyone. But we can’t just kick him out without cause.
That could make things worse, especially if he’s working with someone else. We need to figure out what he’s really after."

"Why not use truth serum?" Rosalie asked brightly. "I have a few recipes. Side effects may include hallucinations and spontaneous musical numbers, but—"

"No," Adam said firmly.

"Okay, but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a vampire break into show tunes."

"Focus," Leila said. "We need something subtle. Something he won’t see coming."

Cassius leaned forward, rubbing his jaw. "Look, I don’t care what kind of plan we use as long as it keeps Aria and Leila safe. I don’t trust that bloodsucker one bit."

"Seconded," Austin added through the speaker. "Also, I think I should just record all my statements ahead of time since I keep getting cut—"

"Austin," I said gently, stifling another laugh.

"Sorry," he grumbled.

Adam paced the room slowly. "He likes information. He likes having the upper hand. What if we feed him something that isn’t real?"

"Like a fake secret?" I asked.

He nodded. "Exactly. We give him a piece of intel—something he thinks is valuable, something he might act on or share. And we track what he does with it."

"A honeypot," Alex chimed in from the hallway, popping his head in without warning. "Digital term. But it applies. Plant the bait, watch who bites."

"He won’t trust anything that comes from you or me," Adam said. "It has to come from someone he wouldn’t expect."

Everyone turned to look at me.

I blinked. "Why am I always the bait?"

"Because you’re the one he actually talks to," Rosalie said, poking my arm with her pen.

Cassius immediately sat up straighter. "Absolutely not. No way she’s getting anywhere near him again."

"It wouldn’t be real," Adam said quickly. "She just needs to mention something—an upcoming shipment, a hidden ally, anything we can trace."

"We leak it once, casually," I added, catching on. "And then we track whether it gets repeated. If it does, we know who leaked it."

Cassius still looked unhappy, but Leila rested a hand on his arm. "She won’t be alone. We’ll all be watching."

"You realize this means I’ll have to talk to him again," I muttered.

"You have my deepest sympathies," Austin deadpanned.

"All right," Adam said. "Let’s move on this. Alex, prep the surveillance. Rosalie, keep the protective charm active. Cass, Leila, be nearby when the
conversation happens. We go in, we get what we need, we confirm whether he’s a threat or just a very annoying house guest."

We all nodded, and one by one, people began to peel off to prepare. I lingered a moment longer, knowing what was coming.

Austin’s voice came through the speaker again, quieter this time. "Aria? You still there?"

"Yeah."

"Can we talk?"

I stepped aside, away from the others, and took the phone with me into the hallway. "What’s up?"

There was a pause. Then, softly, "I hate being this far from you. From everything. I should be there."

"I know," I said. "But you are. In all the ways that matter."

He was quiet again. Then: "I want you to come back with me. To the pack. At least for a while."

I closed my eyes, heart aching. "I can’t. Not yet. This is where I need to be."

"With him?" he asked, and I could hear the pain behind his question.

"With all of you. With Adam, Cassius, Leila. With Rosalie. With the community. This prophecy thing, this Caedmon situation—I have to see it through."

Another silence. Then a reluctant, "Okay. But the moment you feel unsafe—"

"I’ll come to you. I promise."

His exhale was soft, strained. "I love you."

"I love you too."

And with that, we hung up. The hallway was quiet again, the buzz of the community muted behind the walls. For a moment, I let myself breathe. Then I turned and went back inside.

The game had started. And Caedmon wouldn’t even see it coming.