Fated in New Orleans

6

The hum of the control room was the only sound after Rhea’s caffeine storm left. The steady rhythm of fans, the faint buzz of monitors, and the occasional drip from the old air vent above. It was the kind of quiet Salem liked — focus-driven, razor-sharp.

She leaned forward, eyes scanning through lines of code like someone reading confessions. River and Miles had lingered nearby, talking low by the door, their voices a calm backdrop against the clicking of keys.

Then something shifted — a flicker in the logs.

Salem straightened, frowning. “What the hell…”

Miles turned. “What’d you find?”

Salem’s fingers flew, opening archived data sets the others hadn’t touched. “Someone’s been using a shadow port. Hidden inside your outbound system updates — encrypted, buried under legitimate traffic.”

Beau stepped closer, expression hardening. “Meaning?”

“Meaning someone inside your network’s been leaking intel for months,” Salem said, her voice clipped. “They’ve been careful — slow drips, small packets of data every few weeks. But…” Her jaw tightened. “They got sloppy this time.”

River moved in behind her, watching over her shoulder as she pulled the most recent data stream apart layer by layer. Hidden beneath firewall updates, she found it — a signature code buried deep in the outgoing relay.

And a timestamp.

From two hours ago.

Miles swore under his breath. “Two hours ago? While we were all right here?”

“Mm-hm,” Salem said, eyes narrowing. “Whoever did this wasn’t hiding from your people. They thought they were untouchable.”

Beau’s tone dropped. “You can trace it?”

Salem didn’t answer — just pulled up the access registry, scanning through system IDs. Most were tagged to terminals she’d already cleaned up or resecured. But one stood out. A local terminal. Used for security routing.

Terminal 07.

River’s gaze hardened. “That’s an enforcer station.”

Salem clicked deeper, decrypting the internal user tag. The name that flashed made all three wolves go still.

Dax Leroux.

Miles blinked. “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

Beau’s mouth pressed into a line. “Dax? No way. He’s been with the pack longer’n I’ve been outta school.”

Salem turned her chair to face them, unreadable. “Then he’s had plenty of time to learn your systems.”

She clicked open the most recent outgoing file — the encryption unwound to reveal short bursts of text. Covert, stripped-down, but clear enough to piece together.

[COMM TRANSCRIPT - ENCRYPTED]

— IronWard confirmed. Salem Boudreaux and assistant arriving within 48 hours.

— Systems overhaul in progress.

— Adjust plan accordingly.

Miles cursed softly, fists clenching. “He told them you were coming?”

“Looks like it,” Salem said evenly. “Which means whoever he’s talking to wanted to know before I touched your system. Someone out there doesn’t want your network fixed.”

River’s expression didn’t shift — but the weight in the air changed. It was colder now, tighter, like the whole room had gone on alert.

Beau muttered, “He’s one of ours. He handles patrol routes, gate security, half the supply runs…”

“Perfect cover,” Salem said. “Lots of excuses to access communications. Nobody questions it.”

Miles dragged a hand through his hair. “You think he’s workin’ for another pack?”

“Maybe,” Salem said. “Or maybe for someone bigger. Either way, I’m tracing the outgoing relay. Whoever’s on the other end—” she stopped, watching the packet blink out. “—just killed the connection.”

“Meaning they know we’re lookin’,” River said quietly.

Salem leaned back, exhaling through her nose. “Yeah. And they’ll probably try to bury what’s left before I dig deeper.”

Beau shook his head, still trying to process it. “Dax, man… he’s solid. Fought with us, bled with us. Hell, he helped rebuild this place after the last raid.”

“Solid doesn’t mean clean,” Salem said, eyes still on the code. “Sometimes loyalty’s the first thing people sell.”

That silence again — heavier this time, like the air itself was bracing for impact.

River finally spoke, calm but commanding. “Don’t alert him yet.”

Miles turned sharply. “You serious? He’s probably sittin’ in the compound right now, sending messages to whoever’s—”

“I said don’t,” River cut in, voice like iron. “We tip our hand now, we lose him. Let her finish tracing the network first.”

Salem’s gaze flicked up to his. The Alpha’s tone didn’t rattle her — it intrigued her. Measured, not reckless. Strategic.

“Give me until morning,” she said. “I’ll dig through every shadow file he touched. If he sent something else before tonight, I’ll find it.”

River nodded once. “Do it.”

Miles looked between them, frustrated but trusting his brother’s judgment. “Fine. But if he so much as breathes wrong before sunrise—”

“He won’t,” River said. “Not until we know who he’s talking to.”

Salem turned back to the console, hands steady but pulse quickened. Her mind ran through the next moves — isolation protocol, signal sweep, packet rebuild. The air around her buzzed with quiet intensity, matching her rhythm.

River lingered nearby, silent but present. Watching her work.

After a while, he said softly, “You found the crack no one else could.”

Salem didn’t look up. “That’s what you paid me for.”

Miles smirked faintly from the corner. “And here I thought she was just here to insult our wiring.”

Without missing a beat, Salem muttered, “Still might.”

Beau chuckled low, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “If this pans out… we got a traitor in the den.”

River’s jaw flexed. “Then we deal with him our way.”

The screens flickered again as Salem isolated another buried file — this one half-deleted but salvageable. She froze, brow furrowing as she decrypted it.

Her tone changed, quieter. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

River stepped in close, reading over her shoulder. It wasn’t just pack intel anymore. This message had coordinates — tied to external routes, tracking data from their supply convoys, and time stamps aligning with pack patrol rotations.

And at the bottom:

“Primary target confirmed: Crescent Moon leadership.”

River’s hand tightened on the edge of the table.

Miles went still. “They’re planning to hit us.”

Salem nodded once. “And your boy Dax just gave them the map to do it.”