by Nalini Singh
Eyes rimmed with red met his. “My Zhannochka is trouble.” A kiss pressed to the top of Zhanna’s head, love in the arms that held her.
Ethan had never comprehended love, but today, it was as bright and glowing a knowledge as his awareness of Axl’s sincerity and Aden’s dedication to his squad—including Ethan. This, how Selenka held Zhanna, how Zhanna petted her alpha’s cheek with a soft hand, it was love.
“Let’s go talk to my senior people.”
“Anything you want.” Always.
Selenka found a word or a touch for every grieving packmate they passed.
Ethan stayed by her side but a step back; this was her time to be alpha and his to be her support. And though he had an excellent spatial sense, even he had to concentrate to remember the route after they’d turned several times.
“Here’s your stop.” Selenka snuggled Zhanna close for another long moment before handing her over to a woman with the same hair and eyes who stood in the doorway to what must be a family apartment.
The child went without argument, a wolf heeding her alpha’s decision. “Bye, Lenka.” She made her doll wave, too. “Bye, Lenka man.”
Selenka’s lips twitched slightly as they left, a ray of light piercing the heavy darkness. “How do you like being Lenka’s man?”
“It is the truth.”
A wolfish moment of eye contact. “Be careful what you give of yourself, Ethan. My wolf can be a possessive beast.”
“I am yours.”
Her pupils flared and inside him the scalding heat of her was a dangerous kiss.
Ethan walked into the burn.
Gold in her eyes, Selenka cupped his jaw. “So much passion, so much emotion.” A husky murmur. “Are you sure you’re an Arrow?” Not waiting for an answer, she tugged him close for a kiss that was soft and slow and deep and lava in his veins.
The Scarab power shoved against his shields for freedom, and he was caught between the craving to press his body to her own and never let go—and the need to take a step back so he could strengthen his shields. But Selenka was an alpha with a grieving pack. And a small moment was all she’d allow herself.
They continued on, eventually entering a large room that appeared to be a meeting area. Seven people stood within, all of whom bristled with power. The bearded male with tattooed arms—Gregori—was there, along with the one Selenka had called Ivo. Ethan also recognized Margo Lucenko and Artem Güvenc from the security team at the symposium, but that was all he had time for before the world blazed at the edges.
He halted in the doorway, slammed by a massive wave of energy that had no form he could identify. It hit him with the force of a punch to the solar plexus and he might’ve doubled over if he hadn’t suffered far worse in Arrow training.
As it was, Selenka swung around to look at him, her hair streaks of color in the air. He kept his expression calm though his heart pounded and perspiration threatened to break out over his skin. He couldn’t permit the latter—the wolves would scent it, and his job was to be Selenka’s shield and sword, not divide her already strained attention.
His mate’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she continued on to her lieutenants without calling him on what was happening. “Ethan, you know Margo.”
Artem, fine boned with pale skin and piercing hazel eyes, his height around the same as Ethan’s, raised his hand. “We met at the symposium.”
With a nod, Selenka introduced the others. “Alia.” A tall woman with generous curves fluid with muscle, her skin a soft brown, her eyes a deeper shade of the same hue, and her hair black curls pulled back into a loose bun.
She smiled at Ethan, her welcome open despite the sadness in her eyes.
The woman next to her, on the other hand, her skin ebony and her eyes strikingly, unexpectedly electric blue, the tight coils of her hair cropped close to her skull and body small and sleek, gave Ethan a short nod when Selenka introduced her as Dinara. It should’ve felt like suspicion, but Ethan was dead certain Dinara was barely holding back a scream within. He wouldn’t know what she actually thought of him until after she came out from under the weight of grief and anger.
“You saw Gregori and Ivo earlier.”
Both greeted him aloud, Gregori’s voice deeper than Ivo’s more lyrical one.
“Kostya was in wolf form at the time.” She indicated a man of medium height with a compact body and slate-colored eyes against skin that barely held the sun’s touch, his hair a deep brown.
“Skin contact okay?” He held out a hand but didn’t push it forward until Ethan nodded. His skin was warm and rough, his handclasp firm without being crushing. A man confident in his skin, and with a sense of contentment to him that came through despite the sorrow that had carved grooves in his cheeks.
“My lieutenants,” Selenka said, before taking position in the circle created by her people, her legs in a wide stance and her arms folded.
Ethan would’ve stood at her back, except Artem shifted to make a space next to Selenka, and so Ethan stood by his mate’s side.
“Tell me what you have,” she said.
“Forensic team confirmed the presence of the jetcycle.” Kostya’s steady voice. “Nothing on it after we lose the trail as it heads out of the territory.”
“Weapon?”
Margo stirred. “Standard piece you can buy off the street if you know the right people. Markings filed off, but there’s no doubt it was the murder weapon.”
A strange element of hesitation that Ethan perceived even through his overloaded senses.
“Spit it out.” Selenka’s voice was a growl. “You don’t have Emanuel anymore. None of us do. We have to learn how to have the hard conversations without him.”
Dinara folded her arms, her voice edged with razor wire as she said, “Kiev was meant to be teaching a class to our senior trainees at the den. He was already twenty minutes late when Emanuel was shot—what the fuck was he doing at that location?”
Chapter 16
Son, your pup is a gift, strong and courageous and beloved by her packmates. She’s young yet, but already, I see signs of the adult wolf she’ll become. Cherish her, be the one to whom she can turn in the years to come. Do not allow this seed of bitterness to fester in you, or it will destroy what matters most.
—Alpha Yevgeni Durev to Kiev Durev (2059)
“BLYA.” SELENKA SHOVED a hand through her hair, her shoulders falling for an instant before she squared them again. “We all know my father does things like this for no reason except that it’s Wednesday and he’s feeling pissy.
“It probably means nothing, but you follow up on it.” She nodded at the lieutenant who’d spoken. “I know I let too much slide with him, but not this. You get his explanation for why he was in that area.”
Dinara nodded, but her face was pinched. “Selya.” It came out husky, nearly broken. “I shouldn’t ha—”
“It’s all right.” Selenka walked close enough to hug the petite woman close.
Wrapping her arms around Selenka, Dinara just held on.
“This isn’t on you,” Selenka added after dropping a kiss on her packmate’s hair. “It’s on him.”
“If it was anyone else,” Gregori said, the tattoos on his arm standing out in sharp relief as he fisted his hand, “I swear, I’d take him out. The way he talks to you—it’s not how a wolf should address his alpha.”
Ethan was in full agreement with the male and from the looks on the faces around him, so were the rest of Selenka’s lieutenants. Alia was the most difficult to read, her serene expression a mask, but Ethan had no doubts about her loyalties. There was something about the statuesque lieutenant . . .
Releasing Dinara but staying beside her, Selenka put her hands on her hips and addressed her entire team. “Treat my father like any other senior packmate who’s out of line—and that’s an order from your alpha. Any problems
, you come to me. One of our own is dead; no one gets to slide on anything that could lead to his murderer.”
The lieutenants all nodded, and despite the feral energy that kept scraping against Ethan, doing damage to his shields that he couldn’t seem to fix, his senses were crystal clear and one thing he knew—each and every person in this room would die for Selenka. For that reason, Ethan would do everything in his power to protect them.
Gregori, Margo, Alia, Artem, Dinara, Kostya, and Ivo would act as her defense after he was gone. Because he would go. Scarab Syndrome could be held at bay in certain circumstances, but as Dr. Ndiaye had made clear, the end result was inevitable: madness leading to death. His only hope for even a short reprieve lay with Memory Aven-Rose.
“What else?” Selenka looked around the circle of dominant wolves. “Tell me we have something.”
“No defensive wounds,” Margo said, her jaw held so tight that her skin was white over bone. “Emanuel was taken by surprise. No other way to explain it, not as fast as he was.”
“He’d have heard the cycle unless the attacker was already there, lying in wait,” Ivo said, his own anger a sense of intense tightness of the body, as if he held back a hurricane. “The question of it all is why.”
Ethan might be a less than optimal Arrow, but he was an Arrow. “A mistake,” he said.
Eight pairs of eyes turned to him, with Margo the one who said, “Explain.”
“Was your packmate on a routine patrol?”
A shake of the head from Artem. “I saw him before he left—he was just going for a run. Planned to be back in a few hours, had a date and wanted to dress up.”
Another punch of wild energy against Ethan’s senses, clawed and angry and unforgiving. Not Psy in any way. It had to be an artefact of the mating bond—Selenka was attuned to the emotional tone of the room as a result of her connection with her lieutenants, and Ethan was getting the overflow.
That it was so significant despite the fragmented nature of their bond gave him hope that the bond would find a way around the roadblocks presented by his abnormal psyche and he’d get to be with his mate in the deepest sense, without static or broken shards or wisps of lingering fog.
Riding out the painful blast, he said, “My theory is that your packmate stumbled into something he wasn’t supposed to see.” Ethan’s mind kept on moving the available pieces, and this was the only scenario that fit. “It’s possible your father may have escaped death by a very fine margin. Had he been the first to arrive, Emanuel could’ve found him instead.”
He looked at Selenka, his loyalty to her making him hesitate on voicing the other option. But her lips tightened. “It’s possible that what Emanuel saw,” she said, “was my father doing something he shouldn’t.”
Margo sucked in a breath. “Forensics tested his hands. No signs he shot the weapon.”
That, Ethan knew, didn’t equal a lack of involvement.
Selenka’s expression made it clear she was well aware of the same. “Debrief my father personally,” she ordered Margo. “Don’t accuse him, but push hard.” She flexed, then tightened her hand just as Ethan’s gauntlet vibrated gently against his skin—a discreet indication that he’d received a message.
He glanced at it as Selenka said, “Ivo, what did our surveillance pick up?”
“Nothing.” The black male ran a hand over the smoothness of his scalp, the angles and lines of his features such that he’d be considered handsome by all three races.
The dangerous predator that lived under the aesthetically pleasing appearance was apparent only in the low growl that accompanied his words as he added, “The cameras at the entrance used by the jetcycle were disabled remotely minutes before the shooting.”
“An inside job?” Selenka’s tone had gone beyond growls and into frigid control.
“Not necessarily—could’ve been done by the shooter themselves.” Ivo’s skin tightened over his cheekbones. “It’s older tech that we’ve been replacing as the cameras die. Didn’t seem to be any urgency when we have regular patrols in those areas.”
“Guilt will make you useless to Selenka in this situation,” Ethan said without thought. “The better question is where were those patrols and why didn’t they stop the intrusion into your territory?”
The affected wolf glared at Ethan, while Selenka said, “Ethan’s right. We decided as a group that the cameras weren’t a priority upgrade. Where were the patrols?”
“Diverted.” Alia’s soft voice caught at Ethan, made him wonder about her all over again. “Someone called in an emergency—child missing one sector over. Everyone moved, but it was a false alert.”
“I’m trying to trace the source of the alert.” Ivo indicated a small tablet he’d been holding at his side. “It came through our own systems, which is why it was trusted.”
“Hacked?” Selenka asked. “Or do we have a traitor?” The last word was unsheathed claws, that of a wolf who would offer no mercy, not for this crime.
“I can’t confirm yet, but it’s likely to be the latter.” Ivo worked his tablet. “We’re pretty much hackproof on that level—systems are rock solid after all those years of trying to keep out Psy spies.” The last words were muttered, his attention on his tablet.
“Ethan,” Selenka said, “any word on the satellite image search?”
“I just got a response—techs can’t find anything, even using less-than-legal tactics. It appears all parties are sticking to your agreement not to surveil each other’s territory.”
A curt nod, her muscles remaining rigid. “It was a long shot anyway.”
Dinara threw a glance Ethan’s way. “Your grandfather met him yet?” No antagonism in the question, even a hint of amusement below the grief.
“We’re not discussing my grandfather,” Selenka muttered, but Dinara’s words seemed to release a little of the tension in the room.
A few others smirked, and Gregori glanced at Margo. The look they exchanged was intimate . . . but not romantic. Ethan was suddenly sure the two were siblings. A sign of Scarab madness or another indication he was picking up emotional information via the mating bond? Because he was equally certain that Alia and Artem were romantically involved. Deeply so. Once more, his attention went to Alia.
Her responding smile was gentle, her eyes soft.
“Govno.”
The muttered expletive had everyone looking back at Ivo. Mouth set in a flat line, he said, “Alert was sent, using the pack ID code belonging to Elder Bykov.”
Snarls filled the room. “The elder spends his days sunning his bones and hasn’t used a comm for a decade or more,” Artem told Ethan, a starburst of amber around his pupils that hadn’t previously existed.
“Are the codes confidential?”
It was Kostya who answered. “The senior members of the pack have secure IDs, but we don’t throw our general IDs around, either.” He shook his head, causing the slightly overlong strands of his hair to slide against each other. “Wouldn’t have been hard to get the elder’s ID, though. He’d probably give it to you if asked, then forget all about it.”
“He’s a hundred and thirty-two and says he has too many memories to worry about remembering frip-fraps,” Alia said with an affectionate shake of her head.
“Talk to him anyway, Alia,” Selenka said. “He’s the least grumpy with you.”
“That’s because she pets and coddles him as if he’s a pup.” Artem’s grumble was so patently false that Ethan wondered why he’d said anything at all.
Alia ran her fingernails down Artem’s nape. “Tyoma, why do you lie so? I saw you bring the elder his favorite snack just hours ago, then sit down and massage his aching paw.”
A ripple of laughter around the room as Artem pretended to bite a smiling Alia, but the spark of joy faded almost before it had come to life. Face falling, Alia leaned her head against Artem’s shoulder. “I
can’t believe we’ll never again hear Emanuel’s laughter.”
“Or wait for the punch line to one of his bad jokes,” Kostya said roughly. “I’m going to miss him grinning while I groan at him to stop.”
“Is that all we have?” Selenka asked, her own grief so closely held that it was a clawing wolf inside Ethan. “No other leads?” When her lieutenants remained silent, she muttered words low and dark under her breath. “We work on the theory that we have a traitor. Look at everyone who might be involved with a critical eye.”
After getting their agreement, she rubbed a hand over her face, her head bowed for a moment before she lifted it. “I’ve spoken to Emanuel’s parents about his funeral arrangements.”
The weight returned to the room. Ethan felt the crushing power of it on his shoulders, could barely breathe past it. His brain was clearly having difficulty processing the emotional overflow from his mate. Unwilling to let her down, however, he patched up the fractures in his shields and held.
“They want it to be tonight, as soon as Oleg’s finished his examination of the body.” Selenka’s wolf glowed in her eyes. “He told his parents once that he planned to be buried under the stars, in that field where he used to go to read his science fiction novels.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Gregori said, the words gritty. “You know the entire pack will want to come?”
“His parents are more than okay with that. They just want a little time alone with him first. I’ll organize that with Oleg.” She exhaled on a shudder. “Tonight is for Emanuel. His parents want a celebration of his life and he deserves every moment of it. After that, we go hunting.” Rage was a conflagration in that last word, the fury of an alpha who would not stop until she’d brought down her prey.
The Architect
We are united in our goals. Only with an adherence to a policy of cooperation and loyalty can we succeed.
—The Architect of the Consortium to its upper-echelon membership (2082)
