“I’m sorry, did you say Zhornov?” Lonan says. “As in, one-fifth of kingpin power?”
“I am his power,” Dad says, and every hair on my arms stands on end. “He only rose to his position because of his connection with me, and what my research and development means for the kingpins and their future survival. If Zhornov loses the science, he loses everything. They all lose everything.”
And just like that, things would begin to fall apart.
Lonan’s words earlier, about how the Alliance is aiming to destroy the Wolves from within: What better way to start the implosion than to cause strife among the kingpins themselves? Freedom is so close I can taste it. The end of the war—life, together, with my father—with Lonan and the others. Family, home. Peace.
“That’s where you come in,” Dad says. “We’re going to take it all away from th—”
But he is abruptly interrupted by the shattering of glass.
And so it begins.
SEVENTY-TWO
THE TINTED-GREEN DOOR falls like hail from a summer sky, sudden and loud, into a heap on the floor. Dad’s fingers fly over the control board. All at once, the entire wall of screens, dark ones included, fills with vibrant color. No more gray holding cells—it’s like looking out windows into thirty different worlds. More HoloWolves’ perspectives, no doubt.
A prim woman with her dark hair in a low, neat side bun near the nape of her neck steps over the shattered glass. She wears three-inch heels and, like Pellegrin, is dressed all in white. One corner of her starched collar has a navy-blue ram’s head emblem embroidered in it—perhaps she is the other member of Team Aries.
Her eyes drift toward Gray, who hasn’t so much as twitched since the blow dart tranquilized him. “Will, Pellegrin—is your situation contained? I’ve pinged you both, multiple times. What’s going on here?”
The woman’s voice. It is the same as the one from before, when I was nearly discovered out by the water: the woman who headed for Alexa and Hope in the cave. A still-bleeding gash on her arm stains her white clothes.
“She was a bit combative, as you can see by the blow dart,” my father says, meaning me. “But we’ve completed the procedure.”
I keep perfectly still, careful not to draw more attention to myself than is necessary. It’s imperative this woman believes I’m the problem here, not Dad—both of our lives depend on it. For his part, Dad is all steel and ice, like he was when Gray first brought me in. How hard it must be for him to wear this heavy shell of a personality every day.
“And she’s been activated?”
“We’ve worked together this long, Ava,” Dad says. “Do you really think I would be so careless?”
Ava appraises me. Narrow eyes, I’ve learned, are seldom a good thing.
“I served as witness,” Pellegrin says. “He activated her right in front of me.”
This seems to ease her concerns. “Pell, Will—a word, please?” She sends a silent message with her eyes. I am the only other person in the room: What does she not want to say in front of me?
“Attentive,” Dad says. It is so odd to hear such sharp, short communication on his lips.
Ava cocks her head. “In case I wasn’t clear, there is highly sensitive information at stake. Would you like to alter her senses, or should I?”
“Since when do you ask permission?” The tone of Dad’s voice as he moves back toward the control board is light enough that it comes off as friendly banter. Except I’m pretty sure they’re not friends.
“It’s your shift,” she replies. “I’m simply following procedure.”
Dad pokes and prods at various buttons and switches. It is a complicated piece of machinery, like the mixers used in recording studios before the war. I know Dad is actually adjusting the settings on it because various lights blink on wherever he presses his finger. If I’m supposed to be feeling any different, he hasn’t pressed the right ones yet.
Perhaps the sense-altering—what a terrifying thing, if it is what it sounds like—only works on subjects who’ve been activated.
“There,” he says. “I’ve set her sight to a two and put her memory on a loop.”
Ava eyes Dad’s work but doesn’t comment.
I have no idea what that means, though I can guess. It would have been nice if he’d prepared me for how to behave in a situation like this. Do I stare into a void? Do I go about my business like a normal human being?
I must look like a deer in headlights, because Ava says, impatiently, “I’ll give the directive.”
“Still following procedure?” Pellegrin says under his breath, so quiet I barely hear it.
Ava doesn’t seem to notice—she is too busy adjusting the control board’s microphone. She depresses a button at its base, and a green light blinks on. “Go to sleep in the procedural chair, Number—”
“Seventy-Three,” Dad supplies.
“Seventy-Three,” Ava finishes. “Wake again in five minutes.”
I suspect this is my cue. I go directly to the mint-green chair, curl up in it.
The display screens don’t change simply because she’s focusing on me, I notice. I pray she won’t check, pray my blind obedience will be enough to convince her.
No sooner than my eyes close, Ava speaks. “We’ve got a situation.” There’s something new in her voice, undertones of frantic urgency. “Stark and I followed a lead a little while ago, into the Burrow. We found two of the girls there—Number Seventy, and the Wolf who was in a relationship with Sky Cassowary. I’m sorry to say we now have concrete confirmation that the Wolf has most definitely defected.”
If the Wolf is Alexa, Seventy must be Hope.
“Were you able to bring her into custody?” Dad asks, as if we haven’t already seen her in the cell with Lonan and the others.
There is a pause. “I’m afraid she was in possession of a sedative dosage.” Another pause. “Stark and Seventy are still unconscious in the Burrow.”
My breath catches. No wonder the guys’ video feeds never showed Hope in the cell—she wasn’t in there. And what have they done with Finnley? I focus on breathing, on breathing without shaking, on breathing without vomiting.
“What about the Wolf?” Pell asks. “Do I need to go up to the lab and prepare another procedure?”
Ava laughs. It is like honey on ice cream, enough sugar to make someone sick. “For a defective Wolf? Come on, Pell—who’s not following procedure now?”
She is every bit as sharp as I guessed. All meanings of the word sharp.
“Well, Gray’s out at the moment, so we’ll have to put the kill off at least until he wakes up,” Dad says.
It takes everything I have not to react to the word kill.
“I was worried about that,” Ava says. She genuinely does sound alarmed. “When he wasn’t guarding the ground level entry, and when he didn’t pick up my pings, I was afraid Seventy-Two had overtaken him somehow. But Seventy-Two and the others were in holding when I went to lock the Wolf in, so I thought it might be something even more serious.”