BONDS OF JUSTICE

“Oh, it exists,” Sascha said with a firmness at odds with the incredible warmth of her presence. “I’m an empath, not a particularly useful thing in the Net under Silence. But that doesn’t matter—only two things matter. One—I couldn’t murder anyone, not without it rebounding back on me. I’d feel the impact of the victim’s death, and I’m fairly certain it would kill me. Nikita can verify that for you.”


Sophia found herself believing Sascha. There was just something about the other woman that made her want to believe. If all Es motivated the same response, then it might go toward explaining why their designation had been buried—they were a threat, because they inspired loyalty without the fear that was the Council’s favorite weapon. “You said two reasons,” she prompted in a tone that held genuine respect. “What’s the second?”

“I think I felt him die.” It was a whisper. “It was just before I left Marsha’s room. I felt a wave of nausea, then everything went black—I thought I was going to faint. But it passed within seconds, so I put it down to getting up too quickly from the sofa.” She leaned into her mate’s embrace—Lucas’s face was set in lines of savage protectiveness, but he held her with open tenderness. “Poor Edward. He always worked so hard.”

“Sascha.” Max’s tone was oddly careful as he said, “Did you see or hear anything that might help? I’ve got a gap of ninety critical minutes in the security footage.”

“No.” Frown lines marred her brow. “The rooms are all soundproofed, and I was intent on my conversation with Marsha. We were together the whole time except when I got up to go to the bathroom.” Those extraordinary eyes met Max’s. “I’m the last person who’d hurt anyone.”

Max thrust a hand through his hair. “Look,” he said in the tone of a man who’d made a decision. “I think it’s about time you know what’s going on.” A searing glance out of those near-black eyes. “Sophie, it might be better for you to leave the room.”

She remained in her seat. Max tapped her foot with his in playful approval—making her heart slam against her ribs, her fingers curl—before turning his attention back to the other couple. “Someone’s attempting to derail Nikita’s organization by taking out her people because he or she can’t get to Nikita herself. It’s looking like the bombers four months ago only got to the elevator shaft because someone on the inside made sure they did.”

Sascha’s hand clenched into a fist on the table. “You don’t think they’ll facilitate another attempt on her life?”

“Your mother,” Max said, “is forearmed and very security conscious. That’s why the killer has become frustrated, started to target those around her.” He blew out a breath. “Sascha, if you’re still in contact with her, you’re a prime target.”

Lucas Hunter tangled his fingers with his mate’s, his lethal anger turning into an intense, protective focus. “Sascha isn’t Nikita’s heir.”

“She’s Nikita’s daughter.” Max shook his head, his jaw a stubborn line. “I don’t care what anyone says about the Psy ability to cut off people without a thought—if a Councilor’s daughter is taken out, it will have an impact.”

“You may not be Councilor Duncan’s financial heir,” Sophia said into the silence, “but you remain her genetic heir, the only one she has.” And genetics were very, very important in the Net. Those of her race had no love, no hate, to tie them together, but they had blood. “As far as I know, she hasn’t arranged for a second child or a surrogate.”

“No,” Sascha whispered. “I’ve never understood why.”

“My pack will protect my mate,” Lucas said to Max. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Max gave a wry smile. “Thanks for not ripping my face off before I could get a word out.”

“It’s such a pretty face,” the leopard alpha responded, a feline smile warming those feral green eyes, “the women in the office would probably string me up if I messed it up.”

Sophia felt the tension level in the room drop even before Max’s expression shifted to pure male amusement. “I thought Dorian was considered the fairest of them all.”

It was Sascha who replied. “I don’t know, Max”—a tight smile, as the empath fought her worry for her mother—“you’re giving him serious competition. I’m certain I heard Zara say something about wanting to lick you up like strawberry ice cream.”

Sophia decided this Zara person couldn’t be allowed anywhere near Max. Who tilted back his chair in that way he had and laughed. “Since I’ve already broken the rules, if either of you have any idea of who might want to go after Nikita, I’d be happy to hear it.”

“Let us discuss it and get back to you.” Squeezing his mate’s shoulder, Lucas rose to his feet.

“Fair enough.” Max stood as well. “Clay knows where I’m staying, and he’s got my cell code.” As the men shook hands, Sophia got up, taking one last look at the extraordinary daughter Councilor Nikita Duncan had borne. Sascha’s head was bent, her smile having faded away to reveal a haunting worry.