“Heenali’s not spending money beyond what she can afford,” Cassius continued, “and she’s not disappearing without warning. No mysterious meetings or shady contacts. Far as I can figure, she’s just doing a little extra drinking.”

“Post-breakup drinking.” Lily made a sympathetic face. “I’ve been there.”

“What about you?” Cassius asked. “Heard back from Malachai Rhys?”

“No.” Bo had given Malachai extra time to get back to him because Mal wasn’t the kind of man to play games; if he hadn’t been in touch, it was because he had a damn good reason.

But Bo planned to follow up after this call regardless—he had to make sure BlackSea knew the Alliance wasn’t ignoring the problem. The last thing humanity needed was for the water changelings to turn against them. “I’ll deal with that side of things,” he said when Cassius’s jaw grew hard.

“Bo.” Lily put down her organizer. “How are you?” A smile that was more in her eyes than on her lips. “You look good and you haven’t got those silver things all over you.”

“Head feels fine. No headaches, no diminished vision. I told Dr. Kahananui I feel better than I did before I went into the water.” Which meant the slow breakdown of the chip had already begun to affect him on some level. “The only problem is that even if the compound works, it might neutralize the chip.”

Cassius hissed out a breath. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Bo had to live with the outcome, whatever it might be; no use railing against it even if the lack of a functioning chip would be a death sentence of another kind. “I’ll update you when I know more.”

Lily suddenly leaned closer to the screen. “Bo? Is that a mouse peeking out from your pocket with his tiny paws on the edge?”

“Name’s Hex.” The mouse had hung out with him most of the day, had been dozing on his pillow while Bowen kissed a woman he wished he’d met a lifetime ago. “He’s Kaia’s.”

The angular lines of Cassius’s face cracked into a huge and rare grin. “Aren’t you freaked out by mice? What did you say that time about their ‘tiny beady eyes and long slithering tails’?”

Glaring at his best friend, Bo said, “You were supposed to be drunk that night.” For some reason he’d never been able to figure out, mice had always made goose bumps break out over Bo’s skin. He didn’t “eep” and run when he saw one. Neither, however, did he usually walk around with one in his pocket.

“And Hex is a special case,” he added while his sister wiggled her fingers at the mouse. “He’s a mouse genius.” The small creature mattered to Kaia, and so he mattered to Bowen. It was that simple and that complicated.

“Who the hell are you?” Cassius was full-out laughing now. “You have a fucking pocket mouse.”

“You’re an asshole,” Bo said easily before hanging up, then moving to the data panel to make the call to Malachai. This time, he got an automated recording asking him to leave a message. He did, but forty minutes later there was still no response.

Bo considered going directly to Miane, but this was a conversation he needed to have with Malachai. The Alliance and BlackSea’s entire relationship was through their respective security chiefs.

Interestingly, Miane Levèque had been in touch with the official head of the Alliance. Bo liked the alpha of BlackSea better for that—the leader of the water changelings was smart enough to know that Bo ran the Alliance, but she’d treated Giovanni Somme with the same respect that Bo always did. In taking the figurehead position as the Alliance’s chairman, Giovanni left Bo free to work without having to deal with time-wasting politics.

Giovanni had been incredibly proud to be treated as a fellow alpha by Miane Levèque. “She’s a dangerous one,” he’d said afterward. “Beautiful but deadly as a stiletto across the throat. Good thing she’s friendly or we’d be in trouble.”

Bowen hoped Miane would still be friendly after this was all over.

He spent the next two hours on his personal project and was on his way to grab a mug of coffee from the kitchen when his eye caught on the silver shine in the water outside the atrium’s seaward wall.

A massive school of fish darted in the habitat lights, their small bodies swirling and dancing in a froth of activity. “Is it me,” he murmured to Dex, who’d come to stand next to him, “or does the wildlife look unusually agitated?”

“They always get that way when Mal visits.” The broad-shouldered male offered Bowen the last peanut in his small bowl. “He’s a big fucker.”

No wonder Malachai hadn’t responded to his call—he’d probably already been in the ocean. “When did he arrive?”

“He’s not out of the wet yet.”

Bowen gave the station commander an assessing glance. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me where Mal will surface inside the habitat?” There had to be an airlock system to ensure the sea wouldn’t shove into the habitats, causing catastrophic destruction.

Dex grinned, his blue eyes mixed with enough green that the shade was as changeable as the sea. “Anyone who doesn’t know Mal is always trying to catch him midshift.”

“His own fault.” Bowen’s instincts pricked, warning of an approaching predator—what he didn’t yet know was whether there’d be blood spilled. “He’s an expert at the inscrutable smirk.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as smirky before,” came a familiar voice from Bo’s right.

He shifted to face the security chief of BlackSea—whose expression told him nothing about the current state of the Alliance-BlackSea relationship. “They probably usually do it behind your back.” Malachai Rhys was a big man who moved with deadly grace, not someone most people would want to antagonize.

A gleam in eyes Bo had first seen as brown, then as a pale gold so unusual they were eerie. Today, they held an in-between state, as if the creature inside Malachai’s human skin were swimming at the top of his consciousness.

“Atalina hasn’t popped yet?” Malachai asked his cousin-by-mating.

“I dare you to ask her exactly that to her face.” Dex leaned against the seaward wall, his tone bone dry. “And where in the hell do you get those suits? You’re the only man I know who comes out of the black dressed in a sharp suit—and I know we don’t stock your size on Ryūjin.”

It was true. Though Malachai’s dark hair was damp, he wore a black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. No tie, the shirt open at the collar, the jacket unbuttoned.

“If I told you, I’d have to bury you in the deep,” Malachai responded without a hitch.

Something beeped right then and Dex checked a small computronic device wrapped around his wrist. “Duty calls.” He glanced at Mal. “You staying tonight? Dinner?”

“No, this is a flying visit. But I’ll come down again before Atalina’s due date so we can have one last party before you two turn into haggard, sleep-deprived zombies.”

Walking backward, Dex grinned. “Yeah, and who do you think is going to be babysitting for date night, Uncle Mal?”

Bo waited until the station commander had left before looking at Malachai. “You’re here to talk to me.”

Malachai’s expression changed, a cool-eyed predator replacing the warm affection of a man of family. “I—”

“Malachai!”

Turning, the other man caught the small teenage girl against his body. “Miss me, did you, Pania?”

The petite girl, one of the swimmers who’d cannonballed into the pool the other day, lifted up a face that shone with love. “You haven’t visited for ages.”

“Otherwise known as three weeks.” Tugging on one of her curls before he released her, Malachai kept his hand on her shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“School’s out. I’m going to science club.”

“Then you’d better get moving. You know how strict Mrs. Dempsey can be—she threatened me with a lichen beard last time I was late.”

Pania giggled before racing off.

“Come on,” Malachai said afterward. “We need to get out of here if we’re going to talk. Where’s your room?”

The other man didn’t say anything else until they were behind the closed door of Bo’s room. Bo had opened the window before he left, and they both walked naturally toward the view.

The water was a tangle of silver.

“Jesus, do you emit sea pheromones or something?” There were so many fish out there that it glittered.

“That’s not for me.” Malachai’s lips curved slightly. “One of the schools must’ve come down. They always get the best reaction from the natural schools.”

A sudden tightness in Bowen’s gut. “Kaia told me humans ate sea changelings before.” The idea of it made his gorge rise.

“In the dark past,” Malachai confirmed, his eyes on the water. “We’re no longer such easy prey—but we roam far and wide. I can’t lay a security perimeter around the entire globe.”

Bo blew out a breath. “I’ve always seen changelings as powerful in your packs and clans.” Tight-knit units who hunkered down and fought together against any threat. “Before Ryūjin”—before the harsh truths laid bare by Kaia—“I never truly understood the risks faced by your people.”

“And we didn’t understand the battle humans fight each and every day to walk out into a world where Psy can penetrate your minds at will.” Malachai’s voice was deep, contemplative. “That takes as much courage as swimming alone in an endless ocean, perhaps more.”

“I haven’t betrayed you, Mal,” Bo said bluntly after turning to face Malachai.

The other man echoed his position. And his response, when it came, was from the lethal predator that lived under his skin—because Malachai Rhys was nothing harmless, of that Bo was dead certain. “We’ve confirmed Alliance ships have helped steal our people.”