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CHAPTER 6
Brynne still wasn’t speaking to him, even after they arrived at Order headquarters that morning. As soon as they’d touched down at the airport and were met by Tavia and her hulking warrior son, Aric—both of them daywalkers—Brynne had been swept into the military-grade black SUV amid tight hugs and anxious chatter with her sister.
As for Zael, he’d ridden shotgun up front with Aric, all too conscious of Brynne’s disgust with him and the tension that only seemed to expand for every minute she strived to act like he didn’t exist.
When they were brought into a private meeting room where Lucan Thorne and the rest of the Order’s senior command had already assembled, she stubbornly kept her distance, taking a position as far away from him as she could get. Zael might have been tempted to continue goading her just for the pleasure of it, but the gravity of the situation facing everyone now demanded all of his attention.
Live feed from London filled the monitors that lined the back wall. On another wall, three more Breed warriors looked in on the meeting via video screens—one reporting in from Berlin, another from Rome, the other from Montreal. Zael had been briefly introduced to both of them in this same manner his first time to Order headquarters a few days ago.
He nodded to Andreas Reichen and Lazaro Archer, the European-based commanders, then to Nikolai, the formidable Siberian-born Breed male in charge of operations in Canada.
The mood in the room was thick with solemnity as the gathered members reviewed the carnage of last night and discussed their next tactical move against Opus Nostrum.
“Tell all of your teams to increase patrols immediately,” Lucan growled from the head of the long conference table. “I want every recruit in combat gear tonight. We need an obvious Order presence in every major city starting at sundown.”
Zael didn’t miss the pause in conversation as he strode inside. He was still a stranger in their midst. The outsider they had no choice but to trust.
How it happened that he—a former warrior of the Atlantean queen’s legion—had recently found himself in the position of advisor and ally to blood-drinking killers spawned from his people’s greatest enemies, he had no idea.
Except the group of Breed males in the room with him were not killers. Not brutal animals like their race’s Ancient fathers had been.
Not cowardly murderers like the skulking, anonymous members of Opus Nostrum.
The men of the Order were warriors, like Zael once was—before he defected from Selene’s vengeful reign to walk a different path, far away from her Atlantean court.
As of a few days ago, the Order wanted him to return to the fray—fighting on their side this time. Against his own people, if that’s what it came down to. He’d gone away thinking they asked too much. He still hadn’t decided if he was ready to stand against his queen, but he couldn’t deny that tonight Opus Nostrum had earned another enemy in him.
“It’s a relief to see both of you are safe,” Lucan said, extending his hand to Zael in greeting. He nodded to Brynne, who vigilantly kept her position near Tavia across the large room. “We’re still collecting intel from our back channels and teams on the ground, but so far it looks like JUSTIS was the only target. They wanted to make a statement.”
“And they did,” Zael agreed. “But thugs like these thrive on making bold statements. That’s how they build their empires. That’s how they ensure the loyalty of their true believers.”
On the video feed from Montreal, Nikolai uttered a curse. “Not to mention ensuring there’s enough chaos and fear that a terrorized public will be ready to do anything to make it stop.”
Sterling Chase dropped his fist on the conference table. “Not on our watch. Goddamn it, this shit with Opus has gone too far already. Multiple assassinations. The attempt to blow up the GNC peace summit a few weeks ago. Manufacturing and distributing Breed-killing UV technology, and narcotics to turn any law-abiding Breed into a blood-craving monster. Their list of criminal acts is as long as my fucking arm.” The Boston commander’s fury only gentled as he glanced at Tavia. “And then, a couple of nights ago, the bastards took our daughter.”
“We got Carys back,” Tavia said, holding his tormented gaze. “She and Rune are both safe and celebrating their blood bond. Thanks to everyone in this room. Especially Brynne.”
Brynne’s head snapped up at the mention. “Me?”
Tavia smiled. “If not for your quick thinking, we might not have realized Carys had been taken from Neville Fielding’s party. The Order might’ve arrived too late to help her and Rune escape from Riordan and his men.”
Brynne looked uncomfortable with the praise. Her eyes darted around the room—although, Zael noticed, still careful to avoid him—before she glanced down at the floor. “I was only doing my job.”
“And you’re damned good at it,” Lucan said. “Your instincts about Fielding being dirty were spot-on. Without your hunch and your cooperation in getting us inside that party to search for intel, we’d be a lot further behind Opus than we are now.”
Chase cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that cooperation was a problem for your colleagues at JUSTIS. Tavia mentioned earlier tonight that you’d been let go.”
Brynne shrugged. “I suppose none of that matters anymore, right?” Her tone was crisp, but Zael heard the note of regret in her firm voice. “I would do it all over again, no hesitation. Even knowing what it would cost me. Like all of you, I also want Opus Nostrum stopped. Now more than ever, I want that. Whatever it takes.”
Around the Order’s war room, heads nodded in agreement.
Brynne looked over at Gideon. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to provide Fielding’s computer hard drive or any of his data files for you. As soon as his body was discovered along with the poison he ingested, JUSTIS swept in to clear the house and seal it for investigation.”
