The front door slams open, interrupting us. Vane and Gideon trudge inside, clothing dishevelled and hair windswept, the way it always is when they switch back from their lycan forms. Their eyes immediately search out Eve, and I watch both of them do a little double-take at her new clothes. Only Draven is missing, but the pale sky beyond the window tells me he’s probably done a final sweep of our perimeter and headed straight for bed.
Gideon is the first to recover, crossing over to her with an assessing look. “Better, but work on your posture.” He pulls her arms around from where her hands are clasped behind her back. “Modern people don’t stand so formally. If you want to blend, slouch slightly or fidget.”
“Will I need to do much blending?” she asks, staring down at her arms like she doesn’t know what to do with them now that they’re out of their habitual place.
“Yes. We’ll be travelling a lot while we work on the next stage of the plan.” He turns and heads to the desk, raising an eyebrow at me until I move.
He takes my vacated chair, leaving me nowhere to go but back to the sofa. Silas has pulled Finn down and they’re reclining against each other, the omega curled slightly into him. His brother has taken the opposite seat, and I perch on the arm beside Vane, resting one boot on the coffee table.
“What plan is that?” Eve murmurs, drifting closer to the desk now that I’m gone.
“What do you think it is?” Gideon replies, flicking through the reports.
She sighs, a long, drawn out sound. “If you’re smart, you’ll run. You’ll find some tiny, uninhabited place with no people and no name and never leave.” Gideon doesn’t answer her, and no one else speaks. She continues, chewing at her lip in between words. “But you’re too well-equipped for that. The old Frost…” she trails off. “The old Frost wouldn’t be satisfied with a life in hiding, and I don’t think any of you will, either. So that leaves one suicidal option. You want to kill my sire.”
“Kill is too simple a word,” I growl, but a warning look from Vane silences me.
“It’s not possible.” She glares at me, and a part of me barely resists the urge to smile at her anger. I love her fury. It’s a welcome reminder of who she really is—so much more than this solemn, hesitant shell she’s become. “We both paid the price for your last attempt, and I could have told you it would fail, if you’d bothered to consult me about it.”
“Itispossible,” Vane interrupts, his gravelly voice completely calm. “Your sire was made. It stands to reason that he can be unmade just as easily.”
Gideon gives Finn a look, and the omega gives a thoughtful little sigh.
“I did some research,” he says, his thumb absently stroking Silas’s knee in a way that Eve notices, but doesn’t comment on. “What do you remember about your brothers?”
Eve doesn’t think. “They died. They were too arrogant and too power hungry. I only knew them for a few decades before Cain had me execute them.”
“What about Samuel?” Finn’s eyes rove over her face, but Eve gives nothing away.
“He ran. Morwen chased him into the ground and burned his hiding place with him inside.”
“But did she? Are you certain?” The omega leans over Silas in his interest.
Eve shakes her head. “The consequences Morwen receives for failure are always harsh. Cainlikespunishing her. He’ll take any excuse to do so. My sister may be insane, but she wouldn’t dare to fail Cain and risk it coming back to haunt her later.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Morwenna
The glass smashesin a hail of blood and shards as Cain hurls it at the fireplace. Our sire has been furious since the ghouls invaded the Court over twenty-four hours ago, and even ripping them to shreds hasn’t calmed the full force of his temper.
Now, the three of us are lined up on the couch in his study. Beside me, Callie is all but shaking with fear, her knuckles almost as pale as her hair as she stares into space. On her other side, Bella isn’t much better. Our stern sister has had her tablet open, ready for action, since we walked in, but Cain’s anger—once unleashed—takes a long time to wind down.
I should know, I’ve borne the brunt of it often enough.
“How many dead?” Cain demands, for the second time.
He’s not done, but the fury is dulling, turning into a careful, lethal kind of calculation. He’s more dangerous like this, and something inside me turns wary as he glares at the three of us.
Bella swallows and glances back down. “Fifty six deaths, sire. Not including the human and lycan casualties or the eight infected which you ordered held for observation. A further seven are injured, but likely to make a recovery.”
“And the damage?”
“Estimated to be millions of credits. The building was ruined, investigations into the sewers have revealed lingering nests we’ll have to deal with. And there is the damage they caused in their getaway.”
Cain glowers into the flames. “You’ll organise repairs as quickly as possible. As far as the city knows, it was a small ghoul insurgency that we put down as quickly as any other. Then schedule a press conference for tomorrow evening. I want it on every channel. After that, book me a flight to the Old Country, make sure it’s public knowledge I’ll be travelling there on the full moon. Evelyn might require reminding of what’s at stake should she fail.”
“Yes, sire,” she says, standing at the dismissal and heading for the door like her ass is on fire. Lucky bitch.
