Silas's POV
He was up before everyone else.
That was normal.
What wasn't normal was standing in the kitchen at five in the morning running through every conversation he'd had with Callum in the past three weeks and looking for the gaps.
They were there.
He just hadn't been looking before.
Callum arrived at seven.
Same time he always arrived. Same knock on the study door. Same cup of coffee in hand.....black, no sugar, the specific creature of habit that twenty years of pack routine produced.
He looked exactly the same.
That was the thing.
Silas had expected something visible. Some tell. Some quality that would announce itself now that he knew what he was looking for.
There was nothing.
Just Callum. Steady. Familiar. The man he'd trusted with the east wing logistics and the border rotation schedule and the names of every pack member's children.
"Morning," Callum said.
"Morning," Silas said.
He poured his own coffee.
