When the listed components fail, read the report, it will ignite a power surge directly into his cerebral cortex. His chance of survival is zero. Should no other components degrade in the meantime, the gauntlet will cause the subject to suffer a fatal neurological event in eight weeks, factoring in a margin of error of one week on either side.
Vasic stared out at the dawn as a cold, hard anger smashed through the numbness that only his emotions for Ivy had been able to penetrate thus far. ’Porting to the desert with Aden, he set it free in a roaring telekinetic storm that sucked the sand into violent tornados that howled across the landscape as far as the eye could see. If his mind attempted to tell him that emotion was pain, he didn’t hear it, didn’t feel it, the anger a consuming rage.
He didn’t know how long it lasted, but when the wind fell, the landscape was no longer the same one Rabbit had played across only hours before, the dunes left in an unfamiliar pattern. Pulse slamming in his throat and eyes and mouth gritty with the fine sand, Vasic let the hot desert sun beat down on him and knew he’d keep fighting, keep searching for an answer. Never would he give up.
But . . . he wouldn’t tell Ivy the truth of his current projected life span. He’d go against Judd’s advice and keep a secret. He didn’t want her sad and angry again, was thirsty for her smile, her soft sighs as she turned to honey under his touch. Even knowing what he was, what he’d done, she’d chosen him, allowed him to put his hands on her.
“Will you make sure she’s safe after I’m gone?” Her heart would break; his loyal, beautiful Ivy who’d mourn for him.
Aden, his hair dusty from the sandstorm and his uniform the same, shot Vasic a look that was an answer in itself. The question didn’t need to be asked.
“I won’t forgive you,” his partner said into the quiet. “Don’t ask it.”
Vasic accepted that. In volunteering for the gauntlet, he’d broken the trust formed between them when they’d been two scared boys who had no one else to turn to, a trust of brotherhood that said they’d fight together to the end. “I was weak,” he said. “I’ll be strong now.”
Aden didn’t look at him. “If you were weak, you’d have killed yourself years ago. It’s your strength that doomed you—and your loyalty.” Aden clenched his jaw so tight, the bone pushed white against his skin. “Take your chance at happiness, Vasic. Be with Ivy. It’s little enough recompense for the lives you’ve saved.”
“And the lives I’ve taken?”
“You gave yourself a death sentence.”
Chapter 32
Reports of an oily black “nothingness” in the Net have been trickling in for weeks. Now there has been an unexplained outbreak of murderous insanity in Anchorage, followed by another in Manhattan. Something is clearly very, very wrong with the PsyNet.PsyNet Beacon: Special Edition HAWKE MET KALEB Krychek in the most remote section of the woods around the empathic compound. The other male wasn’t dressed in his usual razor-sharp suit, but dark cargo pants, boots, and a camo-green T-shirt that exposed his arms to the cold, including an intricate tattoo of an eagle on his inner left forearm. His eyes, however, were the same. White stars on black. Cardinal and ruthless.
“Krychek,” Hawke said, holding the other man’s gaze.
“Hawke.”
If someone had told Hawke six months ago that he’d be working in cooperation with Kaleb Krychek in any capacity, he’d have suggested the other person find a good mental health professional. But that was exactly what he was doing. Krychek had been the source that had confirmed Ming’s location in Europe. More importantly, the cardinal had helped avert what could’ve been a catastrophic act of mass murder in San Francisco during Pure Psy’s violent rampage.
“This is about Ming,” Krychek said without further ado. “I’m requesting you delay your move against him.”
Hawke’s wolf snarled inside his chest. “The man is a threat to my mate.” He folded his arms across his white T-shirt. Unlike Krychek, he wasn’t a Tk, couldn’t affect the air molecules around himself—his changeling body was simply far more resistant to the cold.
Now the cardinal gave a curt nod. “Understood.”
Hawke knew that wasn’t just a word. From everything he’d heard from Lucas, Krychek and Sahara Kyriakus were bonded in much the same way as changeling mates. “Then you know I can’t delay.”
“I had no intention of getting in your way—Ming is no ally of mine,” Krychek said. “However, circumstances have changed.”
His wolf’s claws pricking against the insides of his skin, Hawke jerked his head to the trees up ahead. “Let’s walk. I can’t stand still and talk about that bastard.”
“You’ve heard of the increasing instability of the Net.” Krychek’s movements were almost as silent as a changeling’s.
“Yeah, hard not to.” Hawke leaned down to run his hand through the fur of a wild wolf that had loped over to join them, its paws soundless on the snow. “You’re saying Ming’s death could make the situation worse?”
“The Council might no longer exist,” Krychek said as they began walking again, “but Ming still has the largest personal military force of all the former Councilors. His numbers are even greater than mine, and he’s doing a significant amount to maintain calm in Europe.”
Hawke wanted to tear Ming apart with his bare hands for the hurt he’d caused Sienna, but he knew his mate would be the first to tell him that no vengeance was worth the life of even a single innocent. Fuck. “I’ll discuss it with Sienna.”
? ? ?
HAWKE ran in human form an hour after Krychek teleported out, the icy wind rippling through his hair and pasting his T-shirt to his chest. Five wild wolves ran with him, the trees sliding past in a blur of dark green and snowy white, the scent of pine thick in his nostrils as he instinctively navigated the forest that was his territory . . . as he followed the scent of autumn fire and a wild, nameless spice.
Sienna was laughing with another SnowDancer soldier when he tracked her to her sentry position on an overlook, but her head turned toward him even before he broke from the trees. It soothed the ragged edges inside him to see her, her love for him a rippling fire along the mating bond.
Exchanging greetings with the other soldier on the outlook, Hawke waited until the young male had continued on in his security sweep before opening his mouth to speak to Sienna. She beat him to it.
“What’s the matter?” The cardinal starlight of her eyes scanned his face as her hands alighted on his chest. “You’re tense enough to snap.”
He undid the neat braid into which she’d tamed her hair.
“Hawke!” The admonition was more affectionate than sharp. “Don’t lose the tie at least.”
Coming into his arms after he’d freed the ruby red silk, she held him while he rubbed the side of his face against the softness, grounding himself in skin privileges with his mate. The wolf rubbed against the inside of his skin at the same time, craving her touch as much as the man. He allowed his claws to slice out of his fingers where he’d curled his hand around her nape, giving in to the animal’s need enough to calm it.
Sienna didn’t flinch. Closing her eyes instead, she leaned back into his hold. “Remember that night we danced in the forest?”
He growled. “You mean the night you decided to cause a riot in that damn club?” She’d been dancing on top of the bar when he arrived, dressed in fuck-you boots and jeans that might as well have been painted on, her shirt faithfully hugging every sweet feminine curve.
Rising up on tiptoe, her warm but lightweight winter jacket pressing against his chest, she nipped his chin. “I was just trying to get a certain stubborn wolf’s attention.” She played her fingers through his hair, petting him to calmness. “Talk to me.”
And he did. Because she was his mate, who knew him to the core and who took no bullshit. “Krychek asked me to delay the strike against Ming.”
Sienna narrowed her eyes as the wild wolves who’d run with him decided to prowl to the edge of the outlook. “Since we know he’d be more than happy to see Ming dead, I’m guessing it has to do with the infection Uncle Judd briefed us on?”
“Indirectly. Turns out Ming has the biggest personal military force in the Net.”