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“What the fuck?” Gideon vaulted to his feet and hurried to a different computer.
One by one, every screen in the room blinked from buzzing activity to full-stop, nothing.
“It’s not the power,” Darion said, gesturing to the lights that hadn’t so much as flickered.
“The entire command center is on private underground generators,” Gideon murmured distractedly. “We can run for a full year without power. He tried another workstation without success, swearing harshly.
Lucan scowled. “Then what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. Fuck.” Gideon raked both hands through his spiky blond hair, disheveling it. “This shouldn’t be happening. It’s completely impossible, and yet it’s as if something has interrupted our…”
His words trailed off as each monitor abruptly came back online.
Not with Gideon’s data or program feeds filling the screens.
But the face of a woman.
An incredibly beautiful woman with long, platinum hair and eyes the color of Arctic ice. Those frigid eyes stared out of a heart-shaped face with high, sharp cheekbones and pale, milky skin that glowed with the luminescence of a pearl. Her beauty was too menacing to be called angelic. Too ageless and unearthly to be confined to any description at all.
There was no need for introductions.
This woman could be none other than the Atlanteans’ queen.
“Holy shit,” Gideon whispered.
Darion’s response was a low hiss. “Selene.”
Both Breed males moved in to flank Lucan in front of the largest of the monitors.
Selene’s gaze traveled deliberately over each of them before settling on Lucan.
“Lucan Thorne,” she said, her voice clear and unrushed. The voice of a being accustomed to reigning over all others. The voice of a disapproving goddess. “This conversation is long overdue.”
“Not to mention unexpected.” He didn’t as much as blink as he spoke. “Of course, the way things have been going lately, I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d choose to make your appearance now.”
Her brows arched, as if their troubles amused her. “Don’t tell me the mighty Order is being pushed to their limits by a gang of violent opportunists?”
“Do we have you to thank for that?”
“Me?”
He grunted at her noncommittal reply. “Someone’s calling the shots for Opus Nostrum. Is it you?”
She smiled now, a cold smile full of disdain. “Don’t be absurd. Opus is nothing to me. Their trivial efforts are nothing compared to what I am capable of on my own.”
Darion exhaled a sharp breath. “That’s what Reginald Crowe said about you too. Right after he tried to detonate a UV bomb in the middle of a Breed peace summit. He lost his head to the Order for that.”
Selene’s narrowed glower slid to Dare. “When the time comes to wipe out your kind, Darion Thorne, I won’t need someone like Reginald Crowe to do it. Or Opus Nostrum.”
Lucan’s blood spiked to hear the Atlantean queen speak his son’s name. As leader of the Order, to hear her confirm what Crowe had asserted—that Selene was plotting war against the Breed—only added more fury to the fire that flared in him.
“What do you want, Selene?”
“To start with, the traitor, Ekizael. He is one of my subjects and I will see him stand trial for his defection.”
Lucan kept his expression neutral. “Why do you expect that I can help with that?”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m a fool,” she replied, her smile cold. “Zael is in your city. Unless I miss my guess, he has allied with you against me.”
