Rule stared back at him impassively for long moments before answering the question.
“The same thing humans do when they realize some psychopath’s triggers are far more sensitive than others. Or some sociopaths are so intelligent that they may never be found,” he finally said with a sigh. “We’re not just Breeds, Jonas. We’re part human, part animal and something in between that can’t be defined. Each day we’re free is a gift. When that gift is taken we may well need the monsters to ensure our survival.”
“So we allow Gideon free rein?” he asked, knowing that wasn’t possible.
“My take?” Rule asked. “Or is that a rhetorical question?”
Sometimes this Breed was far too smart for his own good as well. Of course, that was why Jonas had maneuvered him into the position of division director.
“Your take.” Jonas nodded.
“None of us have free rein.” Turning from him, Rule activated the Dragoon as Jonas narrowed his gaze on him, waiting. He knew more was coming.
“Free rein is the same fairy tale, where Gideon’s concerned, as free will and freedom are mirages where the Breeds are concerned,” Rule bit out, obviously not pleased with the conclusions he’d come to on the subject of freedom. “If I were in your place, I’d give him the mirage of freedom, though. The same fairy tale we give ourselves. It creates a debt, a favor owed. He’s given the lie that he can live his life and make his own decisions, and he gives us the lie that we have his loyalty. Then when it all goes to hell and we find public opinion our enemy rather than our strength, we call in our favors and give the monsters the truth of free rein. It may be all that saves some of us at that point.”
The Dragoon shot from parked to full speed in a matter of seconds, racing across the desert as the Breed behind the controls watched the terrain with a hard, almost bleak expression. One Jonas studied with narrowed eyes as he let the visions of all that surrounded this Breed filter through his senses.
The one that set his mind most at ease, though, was the Lion clothed in armor, claws tipped in steel, blue eyes savage and filled with death.
That creature would always be contained, always controlled, until, as Rule said, the world went to hell where the Breeds were concerned.
It was the first time Jonas had sensed that part of this Breed, and he suspected it was that part of him that had convinced Rule to betray a decade of loyalty to Jonas, for one Breed’s mirage of freedom.
Gideon had realized what lurked inside Rule.
The trigger, Jonas thought wearily. All it took was the right trigger, and that “something in between”—that part that Rule had identified that all Breeds had inside them—was the something Jonas feared the most.
Because he had a feeling the triggers were far more sensitive in many Breeds than anyone knew.
? ? ?
Reporters. They were camped at the front gate like vultures perched and waiting for prey to die. Or to catch a glimpse of her.
She should have expected it—the minute news broke of Raymond’s arrest and the charges being filed against him, one of which would have been attempted murder of the woman everyone believed was his daughter, Claire Martinez.
Would the truth come out that she wasn’t Claire?
There weren’t many who knew. Those who did wouldn’t want the truth told any more than she wanted it told right now.
By the time she slipped back into the house and moved upstairs to check the property outside the walls, there were vans on each side of the grounds just outside the eight-foot walls.
Standing in the guest room and peeping through the lace curtains, she realized more than just reporters were out there. Across the narrow two-lane county road sat a familiar Dragoon. As she watched, a pretty, blond head popped up on the other side and Ashley was waving her hand madly, a teasing smile on her lips. No doubt she knew Cat was watching.
A second later the journalists had turned and were snapping pictures by the dozens as Ashley seemed to be actually posing for them. Until someone jerked her rather rudely back into the Dragoon.
What the hell . . .
Not even a heartbeat later, the encrypted sat phone Jonas had given her months before vibrated demandingly. Somehow, she pretty much knew who it was.
“Ashley, why didn’t you just call me to begin with?” Cat answered the summons in amazement. “You didn’t have to wait to catch my attention.”
“Oh, I was waving at the paparazzi.” The Russian drawl was pure lazy charm. “I bet they put my picture on the front pages again, Cat. See what a wonderful friend I make? Never fear, I’ll save you from them.”
Ashley was a nut.
For a while Cat had wondered if the Coyote female would ever bounce back from the bullet she’d taken to the chest and the near death experience that resulted. She’d died twice on the operating table. The second time the surgeons had nearly given up hope of bringing her back.