by Lara Adrian
“All right.” Renata gunned it, throwing up dust and pebbles in their wake.
Behind them, the Minions in the sedan had to hit their brakes hard as they skidded sideways to make the turn. They managed it, the car lurching forward like a bullet, still fast on their tail. Through the cloud of debris between the two vehicles, Claire could just make out the bared teeth and dark, sharklike eyes of the two human mind slaves.
Were they Roth’s Minions, or did they belong to someone even more dangerous than him—Dragos? She didn’t want to know. She only hoped that Renata’s driving skills and Dylan’s Breedmate talent would be enough to spare them. If not…
If not, then this stretch of thicket-choked forest might be the last thing any of them saw.
“Faster, Renata!” Dylan urged. “Keep going—as fast as you can!”
The Range Rover rocked and bounced, branches scraping its sides and slapping at the windshield and windows like spiny tentacles.
And still the Minions kept coming.
“Cut left,” Dylan shouted. “As sharply as you can, Renata. Cut left then punch the gas!”
Claire gripped the dashboard as the vehicle made a sudden, swinging pivot on its front wheels. The rear of the SUV arced out behind them in what felt like a slow-motion turn, as graceful as a ballerina. Claire glanced out her window just in time to see that they were riding the very edge of a sharp drop. Below them a couple of steep yards, a river raced and tumbled past boulders the size of a small car.
She couldn’t bite back her scream. Nor could she do anything but watch in stricken wonder as the Minions’ sedan came barreling toward them in that same instant. It smashed into their back bumper in a sickening crunch of protesting metal and kept going, shoving them forward out of the way as the car catapulted over the edge and plunged down, the hood crashing into the water.
“Holy shit!” Dylan cried. “It worked! Did you see that?”
Renata looked far from celebratory. The Range Rover was out of control, coming to an abrupt halt as the front bumper wrapped around the trunk of a small tree. Airbags exploded out of the dashboard with the impact, throwing off an airy whine and a puff of electronic smoke as they deployed. Dazed and shaken, it took a few seconds for Claire to get her bearings as the restraints slowly deflated.
Renata, meanwhile, calmly batted the obstacle out of her way and climbed out of the vehicle. She stalked around to the back of the SUV and grabbed the nasty-looking weapon that Nikolai had given her. Then she walked swiftly but steadily over to the edge of the embankment.
Claire and Dylan got out of the smashed Rover and followed, jogging to her side just as the Breedmate readied her aim on the Minions, who were scrambling to get out of their car before the river swept them downstream. Renata took just two shots—each hitting its target with unerring accuracy.
The Minions, both bleeding from gaping holes in their heads, drifted lifelessly into the swift-moving current.
“Everybody okay?” she asked, glancing over with a steady, unnerving calm.
“We’re fine,” Claire answered, still astonished by everything she’d just witnessed—not the least of which being Renata’s coolly efficient manner as she’d killed the two deadly assailants.
As the women turned away from the ledge, Dylan froze in her tracks. “Um…you guys? You know how we were hoping that if we found Roth we might also be able to use him to find solid intel on Dragos’s location?” She looked at Claire and Renata. “I think we’re getting close.”
“Is that what the dead Breedmate is telling you now?” Claire asked.
“Uh-huh.” Dylan slowly lifted her hand to indicate the wooded area all around them. “She and about twenty others like her. They’re coming out of the trees one after the other and standing right in front of us.”
Claire swallowed hard as she stared into the empty forest, the last few rays of daylight burnishing everything in a deep russet glow. She couldn’t see what Dylan was reporting, but the fine hairs began to rise on the back of her neck.
“We’d better call the compound,” Renata said.
“Uh-huh,” Dylan murmured. “Good idea. Because I think we may be standing almost on top of Dragos’s lair right now.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-seven
Reichen had slept off most of the day, but he’d still awoken twitchy with the need to feed. After his confrontation with Tegan, he’d somehow managed to get himself from the weapons room to his temporary quarters in the compound, where he’d crashed on the bed and swiftly fallen into a state of unconscious oblivion.
Now, showered and dressed, finally able to remain upright on his own motor, he was swamped with the urge to hunt. He knew enough about Bloodlust to realize that the hunger would only worsen if he fed it now, but that didn’t slow his pace as he made his way along the corridor to the bank of elevators that would carry him up to street level and the city that pulsed with humanity just beyond the gates of the Order’s headquarters. His mouth watered at the thought, his gums aching with the swell of his fangs.
Aboveground it could only barely be sunset, but Reichen wasn’t worried about a few minutes of ultraviolet sizzle. He stalked to the elevators and pushed the button to call the car.
As he waited, impatient as a cat, he heard heavy boot-falls coming up from the other direction. Warriors Kade and Brock rounded a curve in the corridor, both of them garbed in full combat gear and hard-core weaponry. They looked as though they were suited up for war.
“Hey,” Kade said, his wolfish quicksilver eyes grim and narrowed as he greeted Reichen with a slight lift of his square jaw. His spiky jet hair was covered by a black knit skullcap, the same thing that stretched over Brock’s dark-skinned, close-shaved head. The two big males paused when Reichen turned to face them.
“What’s going on?” he asked the warriors, hoping they weren’t about to ask him the same thing.
“Heading out in a few minutes for Connecticut, my man,” Brock said, his deep voice a thunderous roll of bass and battle readiness. “With any luck, we’re gonna be handing Dragos his own ass on a platter before the night is through.”
“Dragos,” Reichen echoed. “We’ve got a lead on him?”
“Best one so far,” Kade put in. “Gideon’s getting the coordinates from Renata as we speak.”
“When did the women return?”
Brock gave a slow shake of his head. “They haven’t. The Rover is toast, so we’ll be picking them up tonight when we get there.”
Alarms kicked up a sudden racket in Reichen’s whole body. “What do you mean—the vehicle broke down on them?”
“Crashed into a tree,” Kade said. “Could have been a hell of a lot worse, if the Minions trying to run them off the road had actually gotten ahold of them. Everyone’s okay, and the mind slaves are dead. Renata gave them both a fatal case of lead poisoning.”
“Good Christ.” Reichen’s blood ran ice cold.
Minions.
A car crash and gunfire.
Claire…
“Gideon is on the phone with the women now?” he demanded.
Kade nodded.
“Where?”
“The tech lab.”
Reichen took off at a dead run, feet and heart pounding with the need to hear Claire’s voice, to hear from her own lips that she truly was unharmed.
Gideon was inside with most of the Order, everyone gathered and reviewing the map and coordinates that hung on the far wall of the lab. Tegan, Nikolai, Rio, and the former Gen One assassin named Hunter were all dressed like Kade and Brock, all dripping weapons and lethal purpose.
Reichen entered the room and walked straight over to Gideon, just in time to hear the warrior end his conversation with Renata and disconnect the call. “I need to talk to Claire.”
“She’s fine,” Gideon said. “The situation is totally under control.”
“Like hell it is,” he roared, practically shaking with concern. “They were attacked by Minions and now they’re stranded out there? Wha
t the fuck happened?”
“We knew the mission was not entirely without risk,” Lucan said soberly. When Reichen pivoted to face him, the Order’s leader went on. “The women knew the risks, too. They accepted it, and they handled it. Quite well, in fact.”
Reichen simmered down, but only slightly. “Tell me what happened.”
Gideon gave him a quick rundown of the facts Renata had reported: Claire’s certainty that they were within mere miles of Roth; the double sightings of the Minions who’d apparently been following them since early afternoon; the high-speed pursuit that ended in an undeveloped stretch of woodlands some three hours away; and the astonishing news that Dylan’s psychic gift had not only delivered the women to safety but also, apparently had led them right into the vicinity of what could only be Dragos’s hidden lair.
As stunned as he was to hear the day’s extraordinary events—as relieved as he was to know that neither Claire nor the other two women had been injured—another part of him was awash in confusion… and guilt.
Claire must have been terrified when she and her companions had come under attack by the Minions. At the very least, her adrenaline should have kicked into high gear, and yet Reichen’s blood bond to her had told him nothing.
“You didn’t know?” Tegan said, his gaze seeming to read right through him.
Reichen gave a curt shake of his head. He’d been laid flat while Claire was in serious danger. The knowledge of how badly he might have failed her hit him like a stab to the chest.
And now she was out there in the open, vulnerable, near enough to Roth that she could feel him, and possibly within Dragos’s reach, as well.
Reichen bristled with the thought. He felt the first crackling trace of heat begin to bloom in his gut while the Order went back to reviewing the night’s operation. Pushing the fire down deep, all his focus centered on Claire, he listened in to the warriors’ plan to search the wooded area the females had mapped out, with the goal of uncovering Dragos’s apparent base of operations. From the information Claire’s blood bond had given them, they were confident they’d find Roth, but the ideal goal remained to locate Dragos himself, flush the bastard out of hiding and into the Order’s hands.
The warriors began to disperse, those in combat fatigues heading for the corridor while Lucan, Dante, and Gideon would be monitoring the mission from the compound. When Reichen moved to join Tegan and the others on their way to the hallway, Lucan stopped him with a look.
“This is the Order’s mission, and we can’t afford any weak links in the chain.” At Reichen’s disapproving scowl, Lucan went on. “Listen, you’ve been a hell of an ally thus far, Reichen, but Tegan’s filled me in on a few things—what you’re going through with the pyro and the aftereffects. I also heard about the vision that Roth’s Breedmate saw in Mira’s eyes. Those are no small things, and we can’t afford any liabilities right now.”
Reichen held the Gen One warrior’s keen gray eyes. “I’m bonded to her, Lucan. I love her. If you want to keep me out of this, you’re going to have to kill me right here and now.”
A silence fell over the lab and the group of warriors standing around them.
“I’ve given the Order my full support,” Reichen said. “It’s cost me dearly, but I am dealing with that. Now I’m asking you to give me this one thing: I want Roth dead. I need Roth dead, and so does the Order. Let me take the son of a bitch down, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“And if it is the last thing you do?” Lucan pressed.
Reichen gave a slow shake of his head, feeling determination light up his veins in far greater measure than even the worst of his pyro. “I don’t intend to lose this battle, Lucan. I don’t intend to lose Claire, either.”
The Gen One vampire stared at him for a long moment, his gray eyes weighing him in unflinching scrutiny. “Very well,” he said at last. “Suit up and get the hell out of here. Godspeed, Reichen. I have a feeling you might need it.”
The last ray of sunlight dipped behind the westerly tree line just as Claire, Renata, and Dylan left the Range Rover behind them near the river and started walking up the dirt lane toward the road. They had collected everything of importance from the disabled SUV—maps, notes, weapons, and ammunition—and were taking up a post near the main road as the warriors had instructed Renata when she’d phoned in their situation a short time ago.
As they walked up the narrow path in the gathering dusk, Claire couldn’t keep from looking over her shoulder or jumping at every unexpected noise that came out of the ever-darkening forest that flanked both sides of them. The day had been unsettling enough as it was, but it was the buzzing in her veins—the dreadful certainty that Wilhelm Roth was near—that had her skin feeling too tight on her body, all of her senses on edge.
She kept revisiting her last dreamwalk with Roth, chilled to remember how he’d seethed with his promise to make Andreas and her suffer. And she also recalled, all too vividly, the numerous women being held in Dragos’s cages—prison cells that might be located not far from where she and her two companions had been standing not long ago. It sickened her to think of the horrors those captive Breedmates might have been through. Horrors that had ended in death for many of them, as evidenced by the group of specters that had shown themselves to Dylan back in those remote woods.
Dragos had to be stopped. Wilhelm Roth, as well, and any other members of the Breed who would condone the kind of torment and terror that she’d witnessed through Roth’s subconscious mind.
Claire knew men like that needed to be removed from existence, but it didn’t dampen her fear for the ones who had made it their life’s mission to see that kind of evil destroyed. It didn’t dampen her worry about Andreas, and the harrowing vision of fire and death that she prayed would never come true.
As she and her two companions sought shelter to wait for the warriors to come and meet them, Claire couldn’t help thinking that the night ahead of her might be only the beginning of an even greater darkness yet to come.
CHAPTER
Twenty-eight
Reichen sat beside Tegan in the backseat of a black Range Rover for what seemed an interminable drive to the northwestern corner of Connecticut. Rio was at the wheel, Nikolai riding shotgun, maintaining constant cell phone contact with Renata since the warriors left Boston some three hours past. Behind them in another SUV was the rest of the team accompanying them on the mission: Kade, Brock, and Hunter.
About forty-five minutes ago, they’d turned off the interstate and begun a meandering jog along one rural route after another, following both the coordinates the women had provided and the strength of the blood bonds that would have led Niko and Rio to their mates even without the use of maps and GPS systems. Likewise, Reichen’s sensory pull toward Claire was intensifying the farther they drove along the winding stretch of moonlit, two-lane blacktop.
“We just passed the mom-and-pop gas station you mentioned,” Niko said into his cell phone as the closed establishment fell behind them in the darkness. “We’re coming around the bend now. You should see the Rover’s headlights any second. We’ll blink them so you know it’s us.”
Up ahead of the vehicle, the road flared brighter as Rio flashed the high beams a couple of times.
“Yep, we see you,” Niko said when a dark-clothed figure came out of the woods up ahead some hundred yards and waved a signal of her location.
Watching from behind Nikolai, Reichen hardly drew breath until Rio had navigated the Rover off the road and onto the wooded access lane where the three Breedmates waited. His gaze searched out and settled hard on Claire. She looked so vulnerable and out of place surrounded by so much night and dark forest, to say nothing of the fact that Wilhelm Roth could not be far from the very spot where she now stood.
But Reichen read only the faintest bit of fear in her. Claire’s pulse beat steady and strong in his heart, and her gait was sure as she and her two companions came to meet the vehicle.
No sooner had Rio parked the SUV did h
e and Niko both jump out to pull their mates into relieved, unhurried embraces. Reichen and Tegan climbed out, as well. Tegan walking around back to greet the second vehicle as it rolled to stop behind them on the wooded dirt lane. Conversations buzzed quietly, talk of tactics and strategy, and quick reviews of the established plans for combing the area where Dylan had seen the ghostly Breedmates in the hopes of launching an offensive attack on Dragos’s possible hideout.
Reichen, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off Claire. He drifted over to her, crossing his arms when the urge to wrap them around her felt too strong to deny. He wasn’t sure she’d welcome his concern after the way they’d left things at the compound.
“Are you all right?” he asked, noticing that she, too, had kept her hands close to herself as he approached. “My God, Claire. I heard what happened today. You have no idea how worried I’ve been…”
She gave him an unreadable look, taking in his black combat gear and the many weapons supplied him by the Order and holstered on the belt around his hips. Then she met his eyes once more and nodded her head. “I’m fine,” she said tonelessly “Thank you for the concern.”
God, he hated this forced politeness, just as he hated the fact that the scant arm’s length that separated them now might as well be a mile. Claire gave him that perfected expression of placidity that had once belonged to Wilhelm Roth—the shuttered, pleasant mask from the photographs Reichen had seen of her. Now she was turning that look on him. Shutting him out with the same kind of cordial distance she’d once reserved for strangers and other individuals she didn’t quite trust.
The realization cut deep, despite the fact that he’d earned her cold shoulder. Hell, he’d earned much more than that where Claire was concerned. He’d upended her whole world, put her in the crosshairs of a deadly personal war. Worse by far was the fact that he’d come back into her life only to drag her into the center of his conflict with Roth.
