Cora sat on the bed with her sister. I met my brother Roger's eyes above her head and nodded toward the door. He nodded in agreement, placed a hand on Cora's shoulder, gave her a squeeze, and then headed to the door.

Ella turned to me as I stood, grabbed my phone, and went to the closet. I communicated with her telepathically, assuring her everything was fine, while quickly changing into casual clothes. "Take care of Cora," I told Ella, infusing my words with warmth and support. "We're just going downstairs to talk with the team."

Ella nodded with a small smile. Roger and I left together, closing the door behind us.

We were instantly in motion. "We need more information," Roger said, heading for the stairs. "And we need a drawing of this man, if we can convince Cora to speak to a sketch artist—it could be incredibly helpful."

"That shouldn't be difficult," I agreed, hurrying down the stairs to my office, where a team of investigators had worked through the night. "I'll have a trained sketch artist come by as soon as possible. I'm sure Cora will comply." I pulled out my phone and began checking my contacts.

"Someone should contact Hank," Roger murmured, entering the office and moving behind the desk. "To let him know she won't be in to work anytime soon—we need her here."

I paused my search for a reliable and discreet sketch artist, looked at Roger, and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd be showing such concern for Dr. Hank anytime soon," I murmured.

Roger shot me a dirty glance. "It's strictly professional," he murmured, sorting through papers on the desk and handing them to the investigators for filing. "And after last night, he knows something's up."

"Does he?" I asked, looking at Roger directly. "Hank was there last night? At Cora's?"

Roger sighed, placed his hands on the desk, and looked at me. "Can we not?" he asked impatiently. "Can we not do this during a crisis regarding your child's safety?"

I nodded, unable to suppress a smirk. Honestly, teasing Roger about Cora was a welcome distraction from the fear of someone trying to steal my child. But I sensed his frustration, so I let it go—for now.

"It seems to me," I said after a moment, crossing my arms and thinking aloud, "that the best clue we have so far is the black robes. Cora mentioned it several times—the man was consistently dressed like one of the Goddess's dedicated priests, but in black robes. That has to be a clue we can follow up on."

"I agree," Roger said, grabbing a laptop. "Don't you have someplace where you can start with that?" he asked passively, already sitting down and beginning to type.

"Adolpho," I confirmed, making a mental note to contact him after finding the sketch artist. "We were in touch with him yesterday in case he'd come across anything useful in the past few months—but now that we have new information, I'll ask again."

"Good," Roger confirmed, still searching.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, trying to peer over his shoulder.

"There's an archive," Roger murmured, "with some rare books on the history of shifter religion." He shrugged and turned the computer toward me, revealing a very old, basic website describing some archaic holdings. "It's about five hours away—if Adolpho comes up with nothing, then perhaps we can contact the people here. It's a closed-stack collection, but," he shrugged, "I'm sure you can pull some strings. Get us in to see what they've got."

"What's the point of this?" I asked, leaning over the computer and scrolling through the options. Roger wanted to go to a library? Now?

"It's the most complete collection of its kind," he replied. "Hundreds of years of shifter religious history. If anyone's going to have an answer about the priest in the black robes, I have a feeling it will be them."

"Good," I said, standing up straight and nodding, returning to my phone to find the sketch artist. "You'll go tonight. Take Cora."

"What?!"

"After she's done with the sketch artist," I continued, meeting his eyes seriously. "You'll take her to this library with you."

"Why?" Roger growled, his defiance clear. He sighed, teeth gritted, clearly frustrated. I was curious. Why didn't he want to go with Cora? "I mean, what is Cora going to add to the investigation? Why can't she stay here with you, where she's safe?"

"Cora gave us a vague description," I replied, turning back to my phone. "But that doesn't mean she doesn't remember more details. It just means she didn't tell us about them because she didn't think they were important, or because she's upset. If you come across a detail that matches her memory in the archive, it will be important to have her there to confirm it."

Roger sat back, nodding. I tried to suppress my smirk at his displeasure.

"Unless," I said casually, "you'd prefer I sent Hank along with herhe's clever enough. Probably a good researcher, to get out of med school with such a good ranking—"

"It's fine," Roger snapped, glaring at me, understanding my implication. "Cora and I will go tonight. It will be fine."

"I'll set up transport," I said casually, contacting someone on my phone and then striding out of the office. I saw Cora and Ella coming down the stairs, the baby in Ella's arms, heading for the kitchen.

"All right?" I asked. They both nodded. Someone answered my phone, but I hung up, knowing I could call back. "Cora," I said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. I quickly explained the situation—working with a sketch artist and then accompanying Roger to the archive. Ella stood beside her sister, eyebrows raised at the second proposal.

"Dominic," she said, worried. "Are you sure it's wise to send Cora off? Shouldn't we keep her at home?"

I started to deny it, but Ella subtly urged me to let this play out through our bond.

"You can't keep me here, Ella," Cora said, crossing her arms defiantly. "If I wasn't going to the archive, I'd certainly be going to work."

"What?" Ella breathed, her shock palpable. She sent another pulse through our bond, a mischievous one. I suppressed my smirk. "No, Cora," she gasped, "you have to stay here, with me, where you're safe—"

"No way in hell, Ella," Cora countered angrily. "You can't keep me locked up here."

"But for your safety!" Ella cried. "Just until we figure out who's behind this and make sure it's okay to leave the house!"

"Tell Roger I'll be ready," Cora ordered, rolling her eyes and heading into the kitchen, her mind made up.

"Cora!" Ella called after her, but as the kitchen door closed, Ella turned to me with a grin. "She'd never have agreed so easily if we didn't threaten imprisonment," she whispered.

"Well done, trouble," I said, giving her a high-five. I kissed her head, picked up my phone, and resumed the call.

My mate's hand touched my arm. "She'll be safe?" Ella asked softly. "With Roger?"

"I'll send guards," I said. "But Ella…I'm starting to get the feeling that Roger…"

She nodded, understanding. "Would protect her with his life," she finished. I gave her a sad smile, knowing their relationship was complicated, yet somehow knowing…

…that on some level?

It wasn't complicated. Not at all.