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"No," Benson replied, shaking his head vigorously. "No, I didn't betray you. I wouldn't. I asked the Order to bring Jeremy safely to the peace summit, that's all."
And once arrived, once Opus Nostrum's mission for the summit had been unleashed and the world attempted to set itself to rights under a new paradigm of rule, Benson had planned to send his nephew deep into hiding, along with Martha and the rest of his family.
There was a long silence before the one in charge responded. "You sought to keep your nephew safe, yet it was your own actions that dictated his death. His abduction only made him a greater liability to the cause than he already was. Compound that risk when you factor in that it was a former member of the Order who held him. Why did these Breed-led rebels want him? What might he have told them?" The distorted voice had gone thin and low with menace. "These are troubling questions, Director Benson. Be thankful we were given a chance to correct part of your mistake. Your nephew's death is the only reason you and the rest of your family are being permitted to breathe right now. And the additional technologies we gathered from his laboratory before we razed it will further Opus Nostrum's goals for years to come."
Benson swallowed past the fear that sat like a cold stone in the back of his throat. These men would not be stopped. Nor was any one life worth more than an instant's notice if it stood in the way of their plans. He should've known that from the beginning, when they first approached him with their anonymous invitation to be part of a new, powerful vision for the future.
He should've known it three months ago, when men loyal to Opus Nostrum killed an unarmed, innocent Breed civilian in Boston, gunning him down in the street as a field test of Jeremy's ultraviolet technology adapted for use in weaponry.
"We are united in our purpose to usher in true, lasting peace," said the voice of Opus Nostrum. "Our goal is to bring about a new dawn, something that cannot be possible so long as the Order is in the picture. With them we run the risk that Lucan Thorne and his ever-expanding army of warriors can bring down their fist on anything Opus Nostrum puts into play. I'm sure none of us needs a reminder of how, just a decade ago after the accident in Russia, Lucan took it upon himself to eradicate all chemical and nuclear weapons facilities around the world."
"Accident," one of the brotherhood scoffed. "I wonder if we'll ever know who was responsible for turning that large swath of earth into Deadlands."
"Human or Breed, it doesn't matter," said the one in charge. "The lesson learned for us is that Lucan Thorne can never be permitted to exercise that kind of power again. How long do you imagine he'll be content to labor under the political yoke of the GNC? How long before he and his warriors decide diplomacy and negotiations have run their course? Is that a risk any of you here are willing to take with the future of our shared world?"
A round of supporting responses sounded from all thirteen members, and Benson gamely joined in, knowing that to disagree now would only put Martha and the rest of his loved ones in danger. The tentacles of his past actions held him trapped in this alliance now, and he had little choice but to play along.
After the group quieted once more, the first member spoke again. "The Order must be eliminated. And what better way to demonstrate Opus Nostrum's might than to take them down in one fell swoop at the gala tonight, in full public view around the globe?"
Benson didn't bother to point out that the plan to kill Lucan and the rest of the Order would also mean the deaths of every Breed diplomat and civilian in attendance. The members of Opus Nostrum surely understood that fact, both the humans among the thirteen and those of them who were Breed.
No doubt they also realized that an annihilation like the one they had planned for the summit gathering could very well incite full-scale war between the vampire nation and mankind.
War that could last for decades. Or longer.
"No sacrifice is too great for the ultimate cause of a lasting peace," the leader of the conspirators reminded them. "A true peace that can only be had with the Order out of our way."
The group answered in unanimous agreement. Then someone began to chant the cabal's motto: "Pax opus nostrum."
One by one, each member joined in, until the phrase rumbled so loudly, Benson worried Martha might hear it through the walls of his secret hideaway in their ill-gotten abode. But he knew all eyes were on him, so he picked up the chant too, murmuring the Latin phrase that proclaimed "Peace is our work."
"Until tonight, my brethren," said the synthesized, inhuman voice Benson would hear in his nightmares for probably the rest of his days. "And a word of advice, Director. The eyes of Opus Nostrum are everywhere. Don't even think about betraying our trust again."
Benson nodded. He waited until the group signed off, then he closed his computer and exhaled, collapsing in a boneless heap onto the top of his desk. "What have I done?" he moaned into the crook of his elbow. "God, forgive me. What have I done?"
Chapter Twenty-Four
MIRA HAD JUST TURNED ON THE SHOWER WHEN A KNOCK sounded on her bedroom door at the Order's mansion. Still dressed in the clothes she'd arrived in a few hours before, she cut the tap in the bathroom and walked out to see who was there.
"Nathan."
A study in black, from his short ebony hair, to his fitted T-shirt, fatigues, and combat boots, he stood in the hallway, grim and unsmiling. "I heard Tess healed your sight. I'm glad you're well. How are you holding up?"
She lifted her shoulder in a faint shrug. "I'll be better once I see Kellan again."
Nathan didn't respond; instead he glanced down to the object he held in his hand. "I wanted to return this to you sooner, but with everything else going on . . ."
He handed her the blade she'd lost the day her whole life veered off the rails.
"You found my dagger."
He nodded. "The first night you were missing, Rafe, Eli, Jax, and I went looking for you. We found the blade in Ackmeyer's lawn. I kept it for you."
"Thank you." Mira turned the weapon over in her hands, grateful to finally have it again. Although her eyes took in the delicate hilt's intricate design and lettering, her mind raced back over everything that had occurred in the time since she'd lost the cherished blade. God, it all seemed like a hundred years ago. "Thank you for being a friend to me, Nathan . . . and to Kellan. I know things could've gone much worse for him last night."
He grunted. "I wanted to kill him for all he'd done. To you, to the Order, to everyone hurt by his deception."
Mira looked at her friend, the laboratory-bred assassin who was forever so unreadable and remote, always the most stoic warrior. She saw true hurt in him now. And he was angry too. His handsome face was schooled to stony neutrality, but Mira didn't miss the flicker of amber crackling in his greenish blue irises. "You're angry, but you don't hate him, do you, Nathan?"
