Page 63 of Crimson Moon Falling

Riley

I walked wearily inside the dark bungalow behind Old Faithful, my clothes stiff with dried sweat and Malcolm’s blood. The graze on my thigh pulled when I moved, a distant sting that the implant had filed under non-critical.

The bungalow smelled like pine sap and a whiskey Gunnar had abandoned on the windowsill a few days ago. I dropped my pack by the door and stood in the center of the main room, listening to the silence.

Guilt and bone-deep sorrow seeped through the chill. I turned on the shower and carefully peeled off my clothes. When the water turned hot, I stepped in and stood, numbly letting the scalding heat soak my hair and body. Malcolm was there on Mary Mountain because of me and my investigation, and because I refused to let my father’s death go. Our first encounter was at the gas station in Mesquite, Wyoming, when Parker shot out his windows and tires. When we officially met at the Pack mansion in California, he’d used his Compulsor energy to try to force me to kneel, so I’d shocked him.

And somehow we’d become friends. I choked back a sob and braced my hands against the shower wall, letting the water wash away my remorse.

Parker’s shower kicked on, the pipes groaning. I quickly finished showering and turned off the water so he’d have some. Parker was quiet since loading Malcolm’s body onto the Blackhawk, his face set in lines I hadn’t seen since the early days after my father vanished. Grief didn’t soften Parker. It honed him like a blade against a whetstone. The pilot agreed to fly Bart, Cora, and Malcolm’s body back to Sawyer’s territory when Cora was ready.

Parker emerged twenty minutes later, his hair damp. He wore a fresh pearl snap shirt and worn jeans.

“Conall and Sawyer want a conference call. You up to it?”

I nodded, and he dialed the number and put it on speakerphone.

“Is Riley there?” Conall asked without saying hello.

“Yeah, and we’re on speaker.”

“Are you alright, a stór?” Conall asked softly.

His deep voice made my eyes water. “I... I’m not injured.”

“Sawyer and Alpha Hagan are with me,” Conall informed us.

“Sawyer… It’s my fault he was there. I’m so sorry.” I stared out at the pines through the kitchen window as the implant froze the tears inside me.

“His death is not your fault. When he heard about the situation, he wanted to go, and I’m glad you were there when he passed. Fuck, I’m going to miss him.” Sawyer let out a rough breath and was quiet for a moment. “Alright. Tell us exactly what you found.”

Parker cleared his throat. “We’ve got video, photos, shipping manifests, equipment serial numbers, and hand-drawn maps dating back more than half a century. Apex Mentis has operated facilities across the Western states, supplied by Apollo Genetics. One of them was in Rocky Mountain National Park, at Fern Meadows.”

“Fern Meadows.” Conall’s voice sharpened. “There was a fire there.”

“The fire that started two days after Elijah disappeared,” Parker confirmed, his jaw hard. “They burned twelve thousand acres to cover their tracks.”

A low, vicious curse came from Sawyer. Then a third voice joined with a distinctive Texas cadence.

“This is Malachi. I want to confirm that y’all found hard evidence that the federal government has been running illegal covert facilities in national parks and other sites, guarded by military personnel, with equipment from a private genetics company that’s been implicated in human experimentation.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of someone verifying facts.

“Yeah,” Parker confirmed. “The bunker we found is built into an abandoned mine shaft. It’s full of crates with Apollo Genetics lab equipment. Centrifuges, PCR machines, cell culture incubators, cryogenic storage. It looks like they were interrupted while setting up another Roswell. And it’s sitting on top of one of the largest thermal energy sources in North America.”

“Cognizant abilities are fueled by energy,” I reminded everyone. “They’d need a massive power source to artificially recreate Cog abilities in adults. Yellowstone is an ideal location.”

There was dead silence on the line. I could picture them in some D.C. suite, the three Alphas standing around a phone, their expressions hard.

“Well, this sure as shit changes things,” Malachi murmured. His drawl had hardened.

Sawyer’s voice came through the line. “We’ve been arguing that mandatory registration is an overreach and a violation of shifter sovereignty. But this is evidence of long-term criminal conspiracy and a violation of civilian rights at the highest levels. Kidnapping, torture, death, and too many violations to count. Military personnel guarding a private company’s laboratory beneath a national park. Human experimentation.”

“Can you send Drew what you have in the next thirty minutes?” Conall asked. “This should be enough to bury the registration legislation.”

“Send it to Madison too,” Sawyer added. “This evidence needs to get to the right committees and journalists before they try to bury it.”

Conall growled, the low, dangerous edge of his wolf in his voice. “Parker, I want you to hand-deliver copies of everything to Drew. The originals stay with you.”

“The registration vote is tomorrow afternoon,” Malachi added. “The Alphas who’ve been sitting on the damn fence, and especially the Northeastern Pack, are gonna change their tune unless they have a death wish. It’d be suicidal to side with the Feds after this breaks. Y’all have found something remarkable here. But at a terrible cost.”