BONDS OF JUSTICE

—From the private case notes of Detective Max Shannon

on the file labeled “River”


Clay, having driven straight from lunch to take up a watch position around his alpha pair’s home, looked at Sascha as they walked outside her and Lucas’s cabin. He wasn’t as close to her as some of the other sentinels, but he deeply respected the woman his alpha had chosen. She was strong, and she made their pack strong.

“I didn’t say anything to Max,” he said, continuing a conversation they’d had on the phone on his way over, “didn’t want to get his hopes up. But can Noor help Sophia?” His adopted daughter—the owner of a great big chunk of his heart—was part human, part Psy. She’d also formed a soul-deep friendship with another gifted child, Keenan. And that amalgamation of factors had created something amazing.

Sascha put a hand on his arm to steady herself as they stepped over a fallen log, easy with claiming the skin privileges that were a packmate’s right—but that she’d never presumed on until Clay had told her it was okay. “I asked Faith to see if her father could get us Sophia’s medical scans after you called.”

Anthony Kyriakus, Clay thought, was an enigma, a Psy Councilor with an apparent heart. “He came through.”

A quick nod, a tendril of rich black hair escaping her braid to curl over her cheek. “Tammy, Ashaya, and I all had a look at them.” Her expression was bleak when she glanced up. “According to those scans, her organic brain is fine.”

Ah, damn. “That’s what the kids fix, isn’t it?”

“As far as we know—yes. But the fact is, we’re learning as we go with Noor and Keenan.” She caught a leaf that had floated down through the gold-hued forest light, worrying it between her fingers. “Js have also been a mystery since the dawn of their existence. My best guess is that the damage is psychic and cumulative. When I met her . . . I sensed this incredible will containing a vast pain.” Her voice was taut, her bones strained against her skin. “Her shields aren’t broken—they’ve been worn away by a thousand slow drips of acid.”

Clay shoved a hand through his hair. “Is there anything that can be done?” He wanted to help the cop who’d been a friend to his mate when she’d been alone, who’d shed blood in the hunt to find a monster experimenting on vulnerable children like Noor.

Sascha looked so distressed, he knew the answer before she spoke, this empath with her huge heart. “I was going to try to see if I could do something on the psychic level, but according to a note in her file, she’s a minor anchor.” A single tear streaked down her face, her sorrow so heavy he could feel it in his bones. “She’s mainlining the Net—and that Net is slowly going insane.”

Clay released fisted hands to reach out and close one over Sascha’s shoulder. “Did she ever have a chance?”

Sascha’s fingers gripped his in painful sympathy. “No.”





*



Max returned to his apartment to discover that Morpheus had defected for good. The well-fed cat was purring happily on Sophia’s coffee table when she let him in. “I missed you today,” she said with a smile, but he saw the shadows under her eyes, the new lines of strain on her face.

Heart tight with the force of what he felt for her, he waited only until the door was closed before cupping her cheek, before taking her mouth in a kiss that held as much savagery as tenderness. She responded with a moan low in her throat. “Max, wait.”

He bit her lower lip, furious with her for what she would soon do, the betrayal she would soon commit.

Her eyes shimmered. “Max.”

It wasn’t the tears that stopped him. It was the way she said that, the way she looked at him. Not afraid of him, but for him. “What is it?” He gripped her hips, unable to let her go.

She dropped her forehead against his chest for a moment. “Will you hate me, Max?”

“Every moment of every day.”

“Good.”

Anger whiplashed inside him, at this woman who needed him to remember her. Didn’t she know he’d never forget? “What,” he said, his voice rough with rage withheld, “did you want to tell me?”

A long breath and she raised her head. “While I was in the Net, I did some searches outside the parameters of the case.” Those unusual eyes shifted away, then back. “I found some information for you.”

He wasn’t used to this kind of evasion from her. “If you don’t know that I’ll stand by you—”

Her fingers on his mouth. “I know.” Glittering eyes, a tone that left no room for doubt. “I don’t want this knowledge to hurt you . . . and I know it holds the capacity for enormous pain.”

He took her hand, kissed her knuckles. “I’m tough. I’ll survive.” That’s what he did—survive. But this scar, Sophie’s scar, was never going to heal.