Page 117 of Crimson Moon Falling

“Flint, we need to get out of New York and back to the Pack compound in Denver now. Can you have a Pack vehicle waiting when we land?” A pause. “Thank you. Either me or Jamie will fill you in later.” He disconnected and stared up at the floor indicator.

I didn’t try to talk to him, knowing I’d just made his job twenty times more dangerous. Outside, an SUV waited at the curb. Ash pointed to the driver, then to the hellhounds. The driver got out and opened the back hatch, then stood back as the hellhounds jumped in. Ash guided me into the backseat and slid in next to me. The driver took one look at Ash’s face and didn’t ask questions.

“Put the partition up.” The driver nodded and rolled up the glass partition separating the front seat area. When it was up, Ash pulled out his phone.

“Conall, get somewhere private. We need to talk.” His voice had dropped, and a sheen of gold glowed in his eyes. It was the first time I’d ever seen Ash’s eyes turn wolf.

“Ash, I’m sorry I put you in this situation.”

He turned to me, his face blank. Except for his eyes. “I’m still here. Riley just gave an interview to the New York Times about Wilson, Apex, the planned coup. And her ability to Spool.”

I tuned out the rest of their conversation. As we pulled away, I looked up at the Times building, its glass and steel catching the midday sun. Somewhere inside on the twenty-eighth floor, Fernanda Stratton was furiously combing through evidence and verifying my story. She would see the energy signature requests and watch footage of me being taken from a pediatrician’s office and carried unconscious into a black-site facility. She’d see an ogre’s body lying in a pool of blood in the parking garage, and General Wilson, Director Langston, and maybe even Marlowe.

I let out a shaky breath and sat back. My time living anonymously under the radar was down to mere hours. If all went according to plan, I would help protect shifters and supernaturals from being taken and modified against their will. By helping to keep another corrupt, marginally functional government in power.

My life had narrowed to a series of choices. I’d made my choices, and now I prayed I could live with the consequences.

Chapter 36

Conall

He stood at the window of the same fucking suite he’d spent way too much time in over the past month, staring out at the same view of Washington as Sawyer and Malachi discussed the latest polling numbers for the upcoming vote.

His wolf vibrated, restless and uneasy, the way it always did when Riley was too far away. At least he’d been able to take a pit stop in Las Vegas and deal with Dr. Becker himself. The hour he’d spent with the bastard had been highly satisfying, if too short. After ripping that fucker’s penis off, Conall had shifted his hand into a claw and slowly eviscerated him while listening to his sobbing pleas. The man needed to die.

But then Conall had to call in Bennion to serve as his Beta because Ash was with Riley and Freda, and Jamie was still down. Riley was right. Being around Bennion was like rubbing sandpaper across sunburned skin. The Beta was annoying as shit.

Sawyer adjusted his cufflinks, his mouth a flat line. “Senator White’s office is stonewalling. No meetings or returned calls, and his closest colleagues are giving us the runaround.”

“They’re hopin’ we’ll get desperate and concede,” Malachi drawled. His accent thickened when he was tired.

Conall’s phone vibrated, and Ash’s name flashed on the screen. Something cold slid down his spine. Ash wasn’t much for phone conversations. He didn’t call unless he had to.

“Is Riley alright?” he asked without saying hello. Bennion smirked a little when he heard Riley’s name, and Conall narrowed his eyes at him.

“Get somewhere private. We need to talk,” Ash told him.

Conall walked into the bedroom and closed the door in Bennion’s face when the Beta tried to follow him. “What’s going on?”

“Riley just gave an interview to the New York Times about everything, including her ability to Spool.”

Ash said something else, but Conall missed it. His free hand found the window frame as his wolf surged against his ribs, a hot, snarling pressure that made his vision blur.

“Did you know?”

“No. Not about her plan to disclose that she could Spool. I’m getting her out of the city, and we’ll be at the Denver compound by tonight. I promise I’ll keep her safe.”

“Where is she?”

“Here with me. The story hasn’t broken yet. The Times reporter is fact-checking her account. But it’s only a matter of time, and Riley is in extreme danger until then. When the story breaks, it’ll be a different kind of danger.”

Conall closed his eyes. “How are you getting home? Do you need me to send the jet to pick you up?”

“Flint arranged a charter, and we’re flying out as soon as we can get through this traffic.” Ash’s voice stayed level, but Conall could hear the strain. “She told Fernanda Stratton everything. About the Spooling, about finding Wilson’s signature at Mary Mountain. About the planned coup, her kidnapping, and even the sexual assault. She showed the burns on her ankles and wrist, and Drew sent the footage he hacked from Vegas and the pediatrician’s office.”

The bond against his sternum throbbed, and beneath the fury came a wave of something colder and sharper. Raw, grinding fear.

“Get her to Denver, and I’ll have Jamie and a few other shifters meet you at the airport.”