Tavia sighed. “You can’t and you know it. Trying to force her will only make her dig her heels in harder. Carys is a headstrong young woman—not that either of her parents should be surprised by that.”
“No,” Chase replied, his eyes gentle on his mate, even if his tone remained firm. “But if she’s leaving because she’s got a head full of steam over something, or if she’s in some kind of trouble—”
Tavia shook her head. “If she’s upset or in any trouble, you know she’ll only try to shield us from worrying about her. Nathan, what do you think? Are we being too protective if we try to make her stay?”
Fuck. How he’d found himself in the role of family mediator, Nathan had no bloody idea.
But it was difficult not to be moved by Chase and Tavia’s obvious love and concern for their child, even if Carys was a full-grown woman, twenty years old. She was stronger than most later-generation Breed males, and more than capable of taking care of herself.
“You raised her to be independent—Aric too. If Carys feels she’s ready to live on her own, she’s going to do it. No matter what anyone says or thinks. But if you’ll sleep better knowing my team and I will keep a close eye on her, consider it done.”
“Thank you, Nathan,” Tavia said, exhaling her relief while Chase gathered his mate close and gave Nathan a brief nod of appreciation for his offer. The three of them exited the conference room to the corridor outside. They paused there, and Tavia lifted her head from where it rested against Chase’s shoulder. “I still think it can’t hurt to talk to her one more time, see if I can persuade her to change her mind.”
Chase grinned. “Your powers of persuasion may work flawlessly on me, love, but good luck dealing with your daughter. And you’d better work fast. She’s upstairs now, packing up her things with Jordana.”
Nathan stood there as the couple excused themselves and strolled away hand in hand.
Jordana Gates was there right now, upstairs in the estate. Helping Carys collect her belongings, a task that would likely keep Jordana under the same roof as Nathan for the next couple of hours at least.
Christ.
He pivoted abruptly and stalked down the corridor in the opposite direction of Chase and Tavia, toward the passage that would lead him to the weapons room.
It was about as far away from the living quarters of the mansion as he could get. A few hours of physical training was just what he needed. Hell, the way his blood was churning through his veins now, he might not come up for air until the night’s patrol was ready to head out.
With any luck, by the time he surfaced, Carys and her new roommate would be long gone.
5
JORDANA BLEW OUT A SIGH AS SHE CAME TO A STOP IN A LONG, empty corridor—one of many confusing arteries in the Chases’ sprawling estate.
Had Carys said to turn left-left-right-left once she was in the Order’s command center wing of the mansion, or left-right-left-left?
Shit.
A simple quest to fetch more packing tape for her friend had now delivered Jordana deep into the warriors’ domain. It wasn’t like she’d wanted to be there. Not when the odds of encountering Nathan in that part of the mansion seemed a bit too likely for her peace of mind.
But Carys had been insistent. She’d made it seem like no big thing at all: “Just run down to the central supply room and grab another roll of tape for me, will you? Take you not even ten minutes round trip, and I’ll have this box of shoes ready to go by the time you get back.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jordana was still wandering the corridors, becoming more turned around with each step she took.
She was sure she’d followed Carys’s directions correctly …
Whether she did or not, she was definitely in the wrong place now. Ahead of her at the far end of the passageway was a set of steel double doors with a security access panel mounted to the right of them on the wall. Above the doors, the dark, unblinking eye of a surveillance camera stared down at her.
“Dammit, Carys,” she whispered. “Next time you have a fool’s errand to run, you’re doing it yourself.”
Jordana edged backward a few steps, hoping she didn’t look as uncomfortable or idiotic as she felt to whoever might be monitoring the corridor. Then again, it was probably too late to worry about that. She just needed to get out of there, before she wandered any farther afield.
Spinning on her heel, she hurried back the way she came. She was jogging at a good clip by the time she reached the end of the hallway and rounded the corner—
Only to run full tilt into a wall of unmovable, warm flesh and bone.
Nathan.
Oh, God.
He caught her by her upper arms, muttering a curse that didn’t sound happy to see her either. “I might’ve guessed,” he growled, more to himself than her. “Never did have much faith in luck.”