Shay had touched him first. She’d reached out to comfort him and she wasn’t pulling back. His beast stirred and gave a content huff, pleased with the small, yet intimate connection.
He let his gaze trail up the length of her arm, past the sleeve of her plain blue dress, beyond the curls of strawberry-blond hair that covered her shoulders. To a lovely, solemn face that didn’t turn away or blush. She met his eyes, and he drew on her strength. Strength she had no reserves to give, but he took anyway. He had no explanation for it, and yet Shay made him feel strong. She made him feel clean.
“Thank you,” he said.
“No need for that. I owe you so much.” Her eyes glittered with tears. “When I realized that everyone I knew and loved was dead, I wanted to die with them. I didn’t want to be the only survivor. But this kind, soothing voice kept talking to me. He got through my grief, and he pulled me back into the world. A scary, uncertain world that seems a little less so when he’s around.”
Knight opened himself to her emotions, and he was struck by a flood of gratitude, peace, and affection. Emotions that caressed his own damaged soul and made his beast sigh. “You do the same for me, Shay.” He wasn’t ashamed of the way his voice cracked. “You give me peace.”
“In uncertain times, peace is a powerful thing.”
“Yes, it is.”
Finishing their breakfasts while still holding hands, keeping that connection alive, was difficult, but somehow they managed.
***
Jillian wasn’t fond of spying, so she told herself that she was merely observing—observing a lovely moment between two hurting people. She stood away from the patio door, out of sight, a smile toying with her lips at the sight of Knight and Shay holding hands. A simple gesture for most, but a huge step for the damaged young woman who, until a week ago, had flinched at the softest growl from another loup. She loved seeing Shay healing.
Footsteps in the hall stole her attention. Mason strode toward her, his destination seemingly the kitchen, where strong scents of breakfast were making Jillian’s own stomach curl with want. He spotted her and smiled.
“Morning, Jill.”
“Good morning.” She’d showered before coming downstairs, but she still gave a start, wondering if Mason would know. If he would be jealous. He had no claim over her, and yet she didn’t want to hurt him. He was still her friend.
“Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.” She followed him into the kitchen, then helped herself to food and coffee.
The large dining room table was half full of faces who were becoming more familiar to her every day. At the end of the table, Rook, Brynn, and Bishop sat, eating with grim expressions. Bishop glanced up. Their eyes met, and a spark of heat rushed straight to her gut.
This was going to be a problem.
Mason sat with the other enforcers, while Jillian took a seat next to Bishop. Doing so yesterday had no more meaning than doing so today—except it did. Yesterday they hadn’t fucked each other against the library wall. Bishop’s scent struck her the moment she sat down, and her beast took notice.
Down girl. We can’t have him.
They exchanged greetings. There was little to discuss this morning other than murdered families and their collective anger, so the meal was relatively quiet. Possibly the quietest meal she’d ever had in Cornerstone. The McQueen house had always seemed a lively place, full of large personalities and love. Today, everyone and everything was subdued by the latest attack.
Jillian worked her way through a cinnamon roll, keenly aware of the man next to her. Every breath, every movement. She had spent nearly a year doing the same with her late husband, connected to him so intimately that his death had almost destroyed her. The first whispers of that connection with Bishop terrified her on every level, because sooner or later, she would have to leave him behind. She would have to break her own heart this time.
“Where’s Alpha McQueen?” she asked. She thought she’d heard his voice earlier on her way past the dining room. Before she got caught up staring at Knight and Shay.
“He’s on a conference call,” Bishop replied.
“The other Alphas?”
“Most likely.”
Rook’s head snapped to the left, his attention on Brynn. The sudden action caught Jillian’s attention as well. Brynn had gone pale, her eyes wide and vacant, so still. She was having a vision. They waited for what felt like an eternity for her to snap out of it.
“What was it?” Rook asked gently.
Brynn blinked her black eyes a few times, refocusing. “Sweet Avesta.”
The Magus version of “Oh my god.”
Rook grabbed her hands and held them tight. “What did you see, sweetheart?”
The anxiety level in the room rose. The half-dozen enforcers eating at the table were trying to not watch them, but they were paying attention. Brynn’s visions were no secret around town, and many of them had come true. Only a handful—like the vision of Rook standing over the body of her father, Archimedes, and the building on fire—hadn’t yet. But according to Brynn, they would one day.
“Three visions, all brief.” Brynn closed her eyes, as if replaying the vision behind her eyelids. “A moment, please.”
Jillian’s impatience grew with each passing second. She understood the importance of Brynn recalling the vision in detail after seeing it, so she could relay the information to them. Didn’t mean she had to like waiting.
“I need to see the Alpha,” Brynn said. She blinked hard, her face the portrait of distress. “Where’s Knight?”
“Eating on the patio with Shay,” Jillian replied. “I saw them there earlier. He was in your visions?”
“One of them.”
Rook sent a text first, since McQueen was on a conference call. His phone beeped a moment later. “The call is almost over, so we can go. He also asked for Bishop and Jillian to come.”
That meant news from the other Alphas—good or bad was yet to be decided.
“Should we tell Knight about this?” Brynn asked.
“Not yet,” Bishop replied. His flat expression gave no hint as to his thoughts.
They rose as a unit and put their plates in the basin. Rook and Brynn walked together, his arm around her shoulders. Jillian couldn’t stop a flutter of envy at the simple gesture. Rook walked with his head high, sure-footed, as though daring anyone to comment on his choice of mate. After the first few incidents in the week that Brynn arrived in town, no one said anything disparaging to Rook’s or Brynn’s face.
Jillian still heard the occasional comment when folks didn’t know she was there. Comments about the “little witch” and “tainted bloodlines.” Unkind comments that Jillian could not honestly say she hadn’t entertained herself when she first heard about the relationship. But Brynn had proven herself to be strong, brave, and useful. She was worthy of Rook’s love, therefore worthy of the town’s respect.
The auction house interior reeked of bleach from that morning’s cleanup. The cement floor had a dark spot that would probably never go away, but the smell of blood was gone. McQueen sat behind his desk, elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers steepled together. His expression was bland, giving no hint as to his conference call.
Brynn settled in a chair across from the desk, speaking mostly to McQueen, but including the entire group. “I saw three separate visions, all of them very brief. Almost like a still photo of a moment, rather than a snippet of action.”
“Are they connected, like your visions of Rook’s kidnapping?” McQueen asked.
“I’m uncertain. The locations all appear different. The first vision was of Shay. She was indoors. All I saw was a plain cement block wall, painted ivory or white. Bad lighting. She was wild-eyed, upset. She wore some sort of leather collar that appeared to have something silver woven through it.”
“Held prisoner?” Bishop asked, a growl in his voice.
“I believe so, and I also believe it’s the near future. She’s wearing that floral dress that Mrs. Troost gave her last week.”
“It sounds like Shay’s a target now.” McQueen’s face was stony. “Even though she seems unwilling to wander from the house, I want a guard watching her at all times from now on.”
“Yes, sir,” Bishop said.
“The second flash was of Rook,” Brynn continued.
Rook startled. “Me? I don’t lose more fingernails in this one, do I?”
“I hope not. You were inside, someplace dark. A lot of metal, like a factory. I think you were standing near a vampire.”
“A vampire? Seriously?”
“Yes. I saw his fangs.”
Jillian couldn’t fathom a single reason for Rook to be in the company of a vampire.
“What was I wearing?” Rook asked.
Brynn’s nose scrunched as she thought back. “Plain black t-shirt. I don’t think you were otherwise wounded, but I could only see from your waist up.”
“And the last vision? It was Knight?”
She nodded, misery etched on her face. “He was indoors. Nondescript. Pale walls, the corner of a piece of brown furniture was barely visible.” She glanced up at Rook, whose hand hadn’t moved from her shoulder, then addressed the Alpha. “Knight was holding an infant with black hair.”
Someone in the room made a startled noise. Jillian didn’t care who. She couldn’t tear her gaze off of Alpha McQueen, whose murderous expression promised death. Then the fury cleared, and a coldness took hold. The cool detachedness he needed to be an Alpha, instead of an angry parent.
“Does this vision mean that the triplets will succeed?” Jillian asked, unafraid to address what they were all thinking.
“Not necessarily,” Bishop said. “Michelle Barnes is due to give birth in under a month. Her husband and their other child both have black hair. He could be holding their newborn. Black hair doesn’t automatically mean Magus.”
Jillian leveled a stare at him. “Who are you trying to convince?”
He growled.
“Should Knight be told?” Rook asked.
“Yes,” McQueen said. “And Shay as well. Bishop’s right. The third vision could be about home, but we don’t know for sure. Neither Knight nor Shay are to be alone from now on, unless they are in the privacy of their bedrooms or the bathroom. I want Winston or Devlin nearby at all times. They can trade shifts.”
“Yes, sir,” Rook and Bishop said in tandem.
“And since you’re all here, I may as well inform you at once.” McQueen took a moment to meet all of their gazes. “The other Alphas have a majority vote on a course of action.”
Jillian knew enough about the way the run Alphas worked to understand McQueen’s phrasing. Enough Alphas agreed to something that McQueen did not like, but he’d been overruled.
“Which is what?” Bishop asked.
“We’re to set a trap for the triplets by attempting to fool them into thinking we’ve taken Knight out of town for his safety.”
Jillian raised her eyebrows, surprised by the oddness of the plan. It carried less risk than actually using Knight as bait, but it also had an even small chance of successfully luring out the hybrids. They had no idea of the stability of those girls, or of their actual skill levels beyond their ability to slaughter. How were they supposed to fool them into a trap?
“I can see all of you thinking the same points that I argued,” McQueen said. “We can’t underestimate the triplets, but we have no idea of their technology skills. We don’t know if they can monitor our communications, or even if they can do something as simple as use Google. But the other Alphas are betting on their intelligence.”
Rook snorted, then coughed.
“What’s the plan?” Bishop asked.
“Bishop, I want you and Jillian to drive into Reading this afternoon and find a realtor. Tell them you’re interested in a monthly rental on a house with very good security. You’re working on finishing an important, top secret project, and you need to do it away from home. Stress security and seclusion. When you’ve found the place, call me from its location. Give me just enough details so that if the triplets do have a way of listening, they can find it.”
The entire plan rested on the assumption that the triplets were listening in somehow. The line the Alphas used was secure, but the everyday cell phones were not. The plan also hinged on the chance that they’d simply see them leave and follow Bishop and herself to Reading. Following them was less likely, as the triplets had yet to show their faces in broad daylight. That didn’t negate the possibility that they were able to move around during the day, though.
“I want you both to stay the night in the new house,” McQueen continued. Jillian’s pulse jumped—in a house, alone, all night, with Bishop. Not a good idea. “Go to the store. Stock up like you’ll be staying. Do whatever you need to do to make the house as secure as possible, then come home in the morning.”
In her peripheral vision, Bishop’s head turned, probably glancing at her. She kept her gaze on McQueen, actively disliking the plan, but unable to say so to the Alpha who’d given her direct orders.
“I chose you both for this because of your statuses here. If the triplets are merely watching, they should be intrigued by the pair of you driving out of town alone and follow. I know this is a big risk to you both, but I’m confident in your abilities to defend yourself.” McQueen sounded confident, but his eyes told a different story. He didn’t want to send them out without additional backup. He didn’t have a choice. Even though Thomas McQueen was on the front lines of this particular battle, the other generals had given him an order and he was honor bound to obey.
Not obeying would have potentially damaging consequences, up to and including a direct challenge of his leadership. No Alpha ever wanted that.
“Yes, Alpha,” Jillian said.
“Your father is aware of this plan,” McQueen said. The statement was an obvious one, but it also told her another unspoken secret: her father disagreed with the plan, too.
“We’ll get ready to leave shortly,” Bishop said.
“Take weapons with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jillian, Brynn, you’re both excused.”
Hint: I want to talk to my sons alone.
She followed Brynn down the stairs to the main floor. “Are you going to wait for Rook?”
“No, I should be the one to tell Knight and Shay about the visions.” Brynn did the sensible thing and called. “Hey, Knight, are you at home? Is Shay with you? Good, I’ll be there in a few minutes. I need to talk to you both.”