Alex moved through the caravan as those under his care moved around preparing for another post-attack night on the road. Much of the damage to the caravan was psychological, from the loss of caravaners and the Councilor and his senior staff. They’d waited as long as they could before leaving two days before. Most of those who’d run away had drifted back in over the day and a half they remained outside of old Denver. Alex and those few of Councilor Three’s administrative staff who had survived managed to sop up the mess and organize the survivors. They buried the dead together near the tree line, a way to appease the living who didn’t want to leave their loved ones behind in a Hell Zone.
Those of his agents who had posed as Council attackers had long since pulled back. Alex had thoroughly enjoyed the raid on Lucas’s waiting mercenaries in the early morning hours after he’d seen Lena and Jackson off. He was happy to take out his frustration and fear on those who’d attacked his people. That he had also been responsible for an attack on them was irrelevant—his attack had been for the greater good, and his agents had only targeted known Council collaborators. It served a purpose other than the terrorizing of Zone Three’s people. They didn’t know it yet, but he was freeing them.
The bulk of Alex’s Fort Nevada force had been sent back to the fort to await his and Thomas’s return from the Council Meet. Jackson and Lena were with them.
Alex savored the warmth that spread through his chest at the memory of their goodbye. Once they’d managed to pull themselves out of the car, they’d handled the final details of their group’s pull-out together. He’d been right. They made an excellent team. She’d even smoothed Jackson’s ruffled feathers as she took control of those who’d be returning with her, while Alex handed out final orders to the men who’d be staying with him.
As the men had scattered to their assigned exit points, she’d taken Alex’s hand in hers and pulled him to the side. After running her hands up his sides, she’d risen to her toes to cup his face in her small hands.
“Tell me again,” she’d demanded softly. “We will make this work.”
He’d grinned down at her. “I’m Alex. You’re Lena. It’s what we do.”
She’d returned his expression with a broad smile of her own. “Especially when we’re highly motivated.”
Alex had leaned down to press his lips to hers, to pull up on the Dust within her and feed on the energy that swirled between them. Feeling her doing the same had deepened the exchange. It had been about sharing who they were, and not just what they could do to each other.
When he’d caught his breath again, he whispered against her lips, “I’m about as motivated as a man can be.”
She’d pressed her lips softly to his for barely a moment, then she’d gone, turning away and signaling the men who’d be heading back with her with a three-note whistle she must have heard him use before. Minutes later, they’d pulled out.
Alex had headed over to the ridge where his men were waiting to lead the raid on Lucas’s men. He hadn’t looked back. He didn’t need to. Everything he needed he carried within him until he returned to his home or she came back to him.
He hadn’t felt this focused and energized in a long time. It wasn’t just the relationship, he told himself, because that was tucked away in its compartment. He only allowed that to affect him when he they were together.
Okay, Alex. Sure.
It wasn’t that. It wasn’t. It must be that he had the chance to return to what he did best. There were other villains afoot. Courtesy of Councilor Three, Alex had names. And courtesy of Lucas’s ineffectual leadership, they had proof, too. The Meet would be even more of a spectacle than he had planned. He meant to flush his prey out of hiding. And once they were exposed, he and Lena could hunt them together.
Ya see? Lena again.
His growl at himself turned into an unrepentant grin. Whatever the source of the new enjoyment, he had a caravan to rebuild, people to inspire, and a new Councilor-elect to prep. He hoped the young man had the foresight to be out among the caravaners, now, cultivating their feelings for him. If they played it right, he would have a swollen wave of popularity to ride into Azcon after the Council Meet.
Alex stopped to watch a scene playing out at the end of a car two up from him. A small, satisfied smile played about his lips. Danny, the most senior survivor of the Councilor’s staff other than Alex himself, had taken command and handed out evening assignments as the caravan tucked in for another post-raid night on the road. Tend to the wounded. Set a perimeter. Ensure everyone was fed. See to the equipment.