Aden had spent his life fighting. For his Arrows, for the Net, for a better future . . . and for Zaira. He could’ve done so forever, but right then, he realized he couldn’t when his battle would be at the expense of her sanity and her peace. He would not make her feel hounded, would not make her feel as if she wasn’t good enough, as if she was too broken for him.
He would take her exactly as she was, because one thing was true, would always be true: “I’m yours.” It was his turn to stop her words. “Just stay with me,” he said. “In any way you want.”
“You deserve better.” Rough, broken words.
“There’s no one better than you.”
“I’ll be the best soldier you ever have,” she repeated in a shattered whisper.
“I know.” It would have to be enough.
Chapter 36
BLAKE HAD BEGUN to “court” Beatrice. He’d started quietly by calling her into his office and commending her on her performance during a weapons drill. The truth was that she’d been average—not good, not bad. Acceptable. He’d praised her nevertheless and he thought he might have been the first person ever to do so.
The following day, he’d attended her hand-to-hand combat session, and spent time with her afterward, offering her personal tutelage. They’d spent two hours alone in an outdoor training area, and he’d been careful to encourage her, mimicking things he so often heard Cris saying to her students. The need for such approval was a weakness, but he’d chosen Beatrice because she was weak.
First he had to build her up, make her look to him for approval . . . then he had to break her down so she stopped thinking for herself and became his creature. That was why he’d berated her for a mistake toward the end of a session, after making sure he’d been nothing but encouraging and complimentary to that point. She’d all but crumpled inward. When he’d told her it was all right, that she could learn to correct her error, she’d agreed to another hour of instruction.
It wouldn’t take long to break her to his will; she was already isolated and submissive, and he’d quickly become her “friend.” He’d kill her without hesitation if she proved a mistake, but he didn’t think it would come to that. Beatrice was hungry for approval, for attention. If she hadn’t been such a well-behaved Arrow trainee, the trainers would’ve realized that she was fundamentally unsuited to the squad.
Then again, perhaps not. Beatrice needed to cling to something and the squad had given her the chance. He’d simply give her a far more individual opportunity. Once she was his, once she’d made the first cut, there’d be no going back. Satisfied with her progress to date, he was in the right frame of mind to receive a call from the individual who’d been so encouraging of his tendencies.
“Anyone in particular you’d like me to kill?” He knew the support he was receiving had to have a political motive, but it was working in his favor so he had no argument. “An intransigent business associate, perhaps.”
“No. We can’t be connected on any level.” The speaker’s voice was made unrecognizable by what had to be a simple scrambling program on their end. “I reached out to you because I don’t agree with the direction the Net and, it appears, the Arrows are taking.”
“Out of the goodness of your heart?” he said, pointedly using a human expression. “I’m touched. I was under the impression it had to do with undermining the fall of Silence.” It had taken him time, but he was positive he knew the identity of his supporter—it had been a slipup during their last conversation that had given him the first clue and he’d taken that and dug.
He might be a psychopath but he was also a damn good Arrow.
“If that is my motive?”
“Silence or not, I have the same playground.” The only difference was that now, his psychopathy would be considered an aberration; under Silence, his lack of empathy had been a coveted state of being.
Chapter 37
TWO DAYS AFTER her descent into unthinking and violent rage and Zaira could still feel the imprint of Aden’s hand on her cheek, feel the warmth of it, the weight of it. She’d never seen him do that with any other Arrow, male or female, never seen him do that with anyone but her. She had, however, seen Vasic do it with Ivy Jane, and vice versa.
It was a touch of affection.
No one else had ever touched her in affection. “I told him he wasn’t Silent,” she muttered under her breath as she pulled her hair back into a neat knot at her nape.
She was dressing so formally because Aden had taken her at her word. If all she could be was a soldier, then he wanted that soldier beside him, wanted the squad to see a functioning pair at the top of their hierarchy, not simply a lone Arrow. Zaira knew he needed someone better but she couldn’t walk away, her possessiveness toward him a deep pulse even below her shield of discipline.
Sealing the angular panel of her black coat, she walked out of her room in Venice and found Abbot waiting for her. The young Tk soon had her at Central Command.
“Abbot,” she said before he could leave, “your relationship with your E—is it difficult, given your training?”
Abbot didn’t shy at the personal question. “It was when we first met,” he said. “But Jaya is an empath.”
Zaira nodded, because what else was there to say? Empaths healed souls, healed hearts, even the most damaged and broken, and Abbot’s E was more like Ivy Jane than the more delicate complement. Jaya had grit enough to love an Arrow.
“Thank you,” she said to him.
Abbot left without further words, but she stayed in place in the underground green space where she’d asked him to bring her. An E would be perfect for Aden. Like Ivy, she would bring warmth and love into the lives of Aden’s squad.
It should have been a halcyon image, but it didn’t fit.
An E couldn’t shield Aden, couldn’t protect him from himself, couldn’t physically take him down and tie him up so he’d rest. Aden would end up being the E’s shield. He didn’t need that added task.
What he needed, she thought as she walked into Central Command, was someone exactly like Zaira, only a little more sane. And there he was, speaking to Blake Stratton, an Arrow Zaira made it a point to avoid.
He makes my skin crawl.
Ivy had confessed that to her after Blake visited Ivy and Vasic’s home. The E had felt guilty about her response because she’d vowed to welcome all Arrows, even the ones with terrible things in their past, but Zaira had told her her instincts were correct.
Blake was the worst type of Arrow, a man who actively sought blood and death. Zaira wasn’t sure he’d make it under Aden’s leadership, but she knew it was important to Aden to give every Arrow a chance. None of them were innocent, many scarred right down to the soul.
We all start with a clean slate today, he’d said in his squadwide briefing after officially dethroning Ming. Whatever you were coerced into doing, or ordered to do, under our previous leadership lies in the past. You have the power to write your future.
Zaira figured she had to give Blake that same chance, but it didn’t mean she had to go near him. Standing back, she focused on Aden. As she’d expected, he was wearing a uniform identical to hers.
That wasn’t right.
He might want the squad to see them as a functioning pair, but at present, especially to the outside world, he was their leader, and the other races appreciated symbolism.
Catching Vasic’s eye as soon as the teleporter walked into the large common area, she made telepathic contact. I’d like to show you something.
When he came over to join her by the glass wall that overlooked the underground green space, she showed him what she had in her hand. “What do you think of this?”
She’d never been friends with Vasic and she knew the distance came from her possessiveness toward Aden, but she respected him without question, would trust him at her back at any time—and he knew Aden as well as she did. He
was also protective of Aden, and for that alone, she’d fought her primitive response and worked with him. Now he belonged to Ivy and was no threat to Zaira’s need for Aden.
“Yes, you’re right,” Vasic said, his eyes on what lay on her palm. “It’s exactly what he needs.” Winter-frost eyes met her own. “How did you know to have it?”
“I had it made by a jeweler five years ago.” She stared at the piece. “I don’t know why. It made no sense then.”
Vasic didn’t push, didn’t make her confront the fact that she’d had it created for Aden, because he was the only one who could ever wear it. Instead he said, “We both want the best for him.”
Curling her fingers over her palm, she nodded. “He needs a keeper at times.”
“He won’t agree, but you’re right.” The teleporter’s eyes went to the man they had in common. “We’ll achieve more if we work together.”
Zaira slanted him a glance. “You know I don’t share well.” She could say that to Vasic because he’d seen her as a violent, feral child, knew the primal base of her personality.
The winter frost glittered, but not with cold. “My mate tells me love is infinite. That Aden is my blood brother steals nothing from the fact that Ivy is my heart.”
“I don’t have that generosity of soul.” She’d never learned it, knew only how to hold on jealously tight so that the things that mattered wouldn’t be taken from her.
“Of course you do,” Vasic said. “Alejandro is just one example of it. There is a reason every Arrow in Venice, even the most recalcitrant senior, would die for you.” He left before she could reply, walking past Aden with a quiet word as Aden headed toward Zaira.
How’s Blake? she asked, not lowering her guard until the other Arrow was out of the room.
Aden’s expression gave nothing away but his mental voice was more open. It’s too soon to tell. He says all the right things, but it’s impossible to know if he means any of it.
The perfect Arrow demeanor, Zaira thought, could also be used as a wall behind which to hide. You should put a watch on him.
Amin keeps a subtle eye on him and he’s noticed no outwardly aberrant behavior.
They both knew Blake was a good enough Arrow to fake compliance and discipline, but Zaira also understood that so was she; if she couldn’t accept Blake being given a chance to redeem himself, then she couldn’t accept that chance, either. It wasn’t as if she had no blood on her hands.
“Ready?” Aden said aloud as he came to stand with his boots an inch from hers.
“No.” Lifting her hands, she pinned the brooch she held to where the point of his jacket’s angular front panel met his right shoulder. An arrow made of a titanium base, it had multiple black diamonds set into the bottom of the fletching.
The black gems were followed by blood-dark rubies, midnight sapphires, night green emeralds, and other dark gemstones, all the way back to black diamonds at the tip again. Look at it straight-on and the arrow appeared pure black, but that changed as soon as the light hit it. Then the colors could be seen in the black . . . as Aden had always seen beauty in her darkness, hope in every Arrow’s soul.
Stepping back, her heart thunder, she said, “Now we’re ready.”
“Arrows don’t stand out,” he said, but he didn’t remove the jeweled pin.
“You should.” This was the first time they’d appear in public devoid of Kaleb Krychek’s silver star. While the squad remained allied with the cardinal, they were no longer accepting any leadership but that from within their own ranks. “You’re our public face.”
He touched the arrow with careful fingertips. “Thank you. No one has ever given me anything so unique and beautiful.”
His deep, quiet pleasure threatened to shatter the cage all over again. Don’t lose it, she ordered brusquely. It’s one of a kind. Like you.
And you, Zaira. Aden didn’t close the final inches between them, but she felt as if he was touching her, holding her in place with the sheer, visceral power of his presence. There is no one like you.
He was right: she was a unique individual. But she was simply a person. Aden was something far bigger. He might not see it, but they all did. Let’s go.
Moving as one to Vasic, the Tk having returned to the room after pulling on his own formal coat, they took position on either side of him.
He teleported them to the door outside the meeting room. “I’ll be here during the meeting,” Vasic said to them both. “I can get you out in a split second.”
They all knew that if it came down to that, things would be beyond repair.
Heading inside without further words, Aden and Zaira took their places at the table. Kaleb Krychek was positioned next to Aden, while Nikita Duncan and Anthony Kyriakus sat across the table. Ivy Jane arrived seconds afterward, Vasic having brought in his mate last, so she’d have the protection of three Arrows.
She sat down beside Anthony.
“We all know why we’re here,” Nikita said as soon as Ivy was in her seat. “The interim Coalition has functioned as it should, but the attack on the Arrows makes it clear we need to show a stronger hand.”
Krychek leaned back in his chair. “I won’t allow a return to what the Council once was, Nikita.” Ice-cold words.
Nikita didn’t back down, the sharply cut edge of her glossy black hair swinging against the porcelain skin of her cheek as she spoke. “I understand we’re to allow dissent in order to leach off tension in the populace, but it’s gone too far if whoever took Aden and Zaira believes us vulnerable.”
“I don’t agree with Nikita,” Anthony said, the two of them not looking at one another though they sat side by side. “But she’s right in one sense. We are still seen as interim and that equals fragile and impeachable in certain minds. We have to nip that in the bud before it starts to make our task difficult—Pax Marshall is already making noises about having to comply with our mandates.”
“Wait,” Ivy said. “Pax is a businessman, right? Young, too.”
“Twenty-four,” Nikita supplied. “And he’s taken control of the entire Marshall Group. He’s ruthless and if we don’t get him under control, he’ll keep pushing.”
Zaira touched Aden’s mind. Want me to disappear him down a dark hole? She knew Aden had already had one run-in with Pax when Aden had warned the other man off attempting to recruit children who needed the training provided by the squad.
No. We don’t execute people for being an aggravation.
Are you sure Krychek knows that? Zaira had the sense Kaleb thought more like her than like Aden.
Aden’s eyes flicked to Kaleb. As if guessing the content of their telepathic discussion, the cardinal telepathed both of them. Killing Pax would be an inconvenience. He’s dangerous but he’s also the most rational member of the family group—and as I said, we will not become the old Council.
“Pax isn’t the only one,” Nikita said. “Jen Liu is making similar noises and the Chastains tend to follow where Liu leads.”
Aden spoke aloud. “Regardless, the Arrows stand with Krychek—we don’t wish to resurrect the old Council.”
Ivy Jane leaned forward, her copper-colored eyes intent. “The fact is, the Net no longer supports the way previous Councils worked, even pre-Silence.”
“Pre-Silence?” Nikita turned toward the younger woman. “They worked by consensus much of the time—the decision to undertake Silence took over a decade. Isn’t that what you’re proposing?”
Arms braced on the table, Ivy shook her head. “We can’t afford to spend all that time in discussion. Not now, with the Net so fragile. We need strong decision-making—but we also need checks and balances.” She held Nikita’s gaze, her own unflinching. “The previous Councilors spent their time building their own wealth and power on the backs of the people they were supposed to rule. You can’t do that anymore.”
Nikita didn’t b
ack down. “Are you suggesting I become an altruist?”
“No, Nikita. I’m suggesting you decide whether you want to become a true leader, or if you want to be a politician.”
That, I didn’t expect, Zaira telepathed to Aden. Ivy is so inherently gentle and yet she’s going toe-to-toe with one of the most dangerous women in the Net.
Yes, but Ivy is a leader now, too.
Of the empaths, hundreds of thousands of them. Key linchpins in holding the PsyNet together. She knows how much power she holds, Zaira said in approval. I simply never expected to see her wield it.
A telepathic knock on Zaira’s mind at that instant. It was Ivy, her psychic presence as gentle as her physical one.
You two are going to back me, right?
Of course, Aden replied, as Zaira did the same. The Es and the Arrows are a unit.
Great, because Sascha’s mom is one scary woman.
Even as she said that, Ivy was continuing to hold the eye contact with Nikita. Who finally said, “Issues of terminology aside, I have no desire to roll the Net back in time.”
She loves Sascha, you know.
Zaira couldn’t think of anything less apt to be true. Nikita doesn’t understand emotion any more than I do.
I think you understand far more than you know—and so does she. Try to attack Sascha. You’ll be dead before the day is out.
That’s not love. It’s protecting the family genetic legacy.
You’re arguing emotion with an empath, Zaira. You know I’m going to win.
Emotion can blind.
Ivy’s lips twitched, but she didn’t reply, her attention on Nikita.
“Strength,” Nikita said to the table at large, “doesn’t have to be aggressive. It’s about perception.” An expressionless face, her grooming without flaw, and no sense of heart or emotion in her voice or gaze. “I might not be a leader but I am the best politician at this table, and I tell you that politics can win wars and this is a war.”
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