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The Pedigree was a toxic relic from a time without equality. A beta from the outside world should have seen it, so why had he not said something?
But right as Bertram’s anger threatened to pull back his mask entirely, something unexpected happened—Harrison placed his hands on Misha’s abdomen and scrunched his nose like he was trying to focus, then suddenly began to glow with a faint light.
Magic.
It coursed through Misha and joined with Everard’s magic, and as it did, Misha’s suffering visibly lessened. Some of the tension left his body and he slumped into his seat, finally able to relax.
Bertram could only stare.
Only dragons could use magic.
No omega had ever displayed power like this before.
… no omega but one.
His stomach turned with a sickly feeling, but he had no time to waste on his own emotions. Misha and Reynard were depending on him, and although he didn’t know it yet, Sorin was depending on him, too.
“Don’t let the omega die,” he told Everard as they assembled in the SUV and hit the road. “If he dies, so will our brother and the eggs.”
“Then drive faster, Bertram,” said Everard. “Or perhaps it’s Frederich. What is it you’re calling yourself these days again?”
Bertram took a page out of Sebastian’s book and grumbled something incomprehensible. It was impossible to reply with any kind of certainty when he, himself, wasn’t sure of the answer.
7
Sorin
Sorin awoke in a panic to the sound of someone trying to beat down his door. For a terrible moment fear gave way to logic and made him think he was back in England, in the hell that had been Unwin’s castle, but the illusion didn’t last long. Unwin was dead, and had been dead for hundreds of years. There was no reason to be afraid of him anymore.
The same could not be said of whoever—or whatever—was trying to get into his room.
Despite the way his head was pounding, Sorin scrambled upright and pressed himself against the headboard. In his room in the Vanguard’s headquarters in Bordeaux, he kept an M9 in his bedside table drawer in case of emergencies, but the Vanguard had left Bordeaux weeks ago to come here—to Aurora—in pursuit of Magpie.
Did he have one here?
He tried to think—to remember—but his head was thick with pain.
“Raven?” hissed a frantic voice from the other side of the door as Sorin reached for the drawer. It belonged to Kevin, who was one of their cybersecurity specialists. He was the one who had originally accessed Magpie’s files, and who was now responsible for finding a way into the council’s database. “Goddammit, Raven, wake up.”
“I’m awake.” Sorin climbed out of bed and adjusted his t-shirt, making sure it hung as far down over his boxers as it could for modesty’s sake before he unlocked the door.
Kevin didn’t wait for him to open it. As soon as Sorin turned the lock, he barged into the room and closed the door behind him in a hurry.
“What’s going on?” Sorin asked, looking him over suspiciously. Kevin wasn’t one of their field operatives, but he was dressed as though he was going out on a mission—black shirt, black pants, tactical gloves, and a utility belt to match. An M9 was holstered at his hip. On a larger man, the outfit would have been intimidating, but Kevin was short and pudgy and looked more like a kid playing dress-up than an actual field agent. “And why are you dressed like that?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Kevin said in a rush. “We need to go. Now.”
Sorin felt a headache coming on. “What are you talking about?”
There came a sound from down the hall—the clattering of metal as it struck the ground. Kevin spooked, eyes wide, and it looked for a second like he might bolt, but he only ended up scurrying back a few steps before he found his courage again. “You need to come put a stop to what’s happened.” He eyed the direction the noise had come from, then shook his head hurriedly and looked at Sorin again. “Sandrine’s heart is in the right place, but she’s taken this too far. We need you back at the helm, and we need you now.”
“What are you talking about?” There came another clatter from down the hall followed by panicked shouting. “And what the hell is going on?”
Kevin, pasty by nature, went Elmer’s white.
“We went to liberate Magpie…” he admitted in a small voice. “Sandrine organized the mission herself after you gave her the authority to act in your stead. It was wrong to begin with, and I knew it, but… I’m just the computer guy. What was I supposed to do?”
Hearing the panic rise in Kevin’s voice gave Sorin the chills. Apprehensively, he asked, “Kevin… what did you do?”
