If she didn’t, I’d tear the world apart to find her.
Chapter 13
Silas Drake
The war room in the Greenbriar house looked like a bunker after the bombs: battered wood, paint peeling from too many winters of men pissing and bleeding on the floor, air curdled with sweat and spilled whiskey and the ozone tang of power that didn’t belong to the living. I sat at the head of the table, a plank so warped it could have been pried up from the hull of a wrecked ship. The only light came from a caged bulb over my head, swaying on a cord and stroking shadows across the faces of the monsters I’d called family, or worse.
To my right: Vex, thin as a switchblade, face mapped with a scar from eye to jaw. She chain-smoked cheap menthols, but the air already stank of brimstone, so nobody complained. Next to her, Dagger—twice her mass, skull tattooed in blue ink that crawled up his neck and into the hairline like mold. Rook was last in line, hands folded in front of him, glasses perched low on his nose, looking like he’d rather be calculating your mortgage than your murder. They were my lieutenants, my wolves, the only creatures I trusted to watch my back in a room full of predators.
On the other side of the table, the hired guns: three demons and two vampires, all on loan from friends of friends in places where the law was just another dead dog in the street. The demons sat together, shoulder to shoulder: Malvex, who smiled like he knew your browser history; Krag, built like a refrigeratorstuffed with explosives; and Rath, the kind of skinny that made you forget he could rip your arm out of its socket with two fingers. Their nails were black, their teeth a little too pointed, and when they blinked, their eyes flashed red like bad brake lights. The vampires, Elias and Marrow, looked like identical pale statues, except Elias wore a tie and Marrow looked like he’d eaten his last meal raw.
We all looked at the map.
I traced the perimeter of Iron Valor’s compound with a finger, black nail gliding over the paper. “Three routes in,” I said. “Two are watched; one is booby-trapped with motion sensors. But here—” I tapped the far western fence line, where a creek cut through the prairie—“they’ve got a blind spot. Floods every spring, makes it hard to keep the cameras up.”
Dagger grunted, “So we hit ‘em from the west?”
“We do,” I said, and grinned, letting the split in my lip widen. “But not tonight. Not even soon. We wait until they’re all inside, every last one of ‘em. Christmas Run, Iron Valor hosts a toy drive for Dairyville’s little bastards. They load every available hand into the basement to sort donations. Even Bronc gets sentimental for a hot second. The place is packed, and the only ones above ground are the women and kids.”
Vex tapped her cigarette ash into an empty beer can, never breaking eye contact with the map. “You want to murder their brats?”
I laughed. “No. But I want Bronc to see what happens to a man who lets his guard down.”
Malvex smiled, tongue flicking over the point of his incisor. “How do you get past the guards? Their Luna is—what’s the word?—paranoid.”
“She is,” I agreed. “But you’d be amazed at what people will overlook with a little financial encouragement. We can buy staff. You ever meet a maid who turned down a ten grand Christmas bonus?” The demons snickered, and even Rook cracked a smile. “And if not, I’ve got an idea for a distraction. While they are looking one way, we’ll go in another.”
Dagger’s eyes narrowed. “So we plant the bombs in the basement before the party?”
“Exactly,” I said. “Vex, you’ll go in as a janitorial sub. Use the uniforms I bought from that dry cleaner in Amarillo. Nobody looks at the help, especially when they smell like bleach and regret.”
Vex stubbed her cigarette out on her palm and licked the wound, grinning. “I love it when you make me play dress-up, Silas.”
“Don’t get sentimental. You’re planting C-4, not mistletoe.”
Rook asked, “How do you want to time the detonations?”
I rolled my shoulders. The old injury flared up. A memory of the time Bronc’s right hand shattered my collarbone and left me crawling in the snow like a kicked dog. “We time it for the last hour. By then, the upper levels are packed with children and the Luna’s guard is down. We hit the supports, bring the ceiling down, and let them suffocate under their own fucking charity.”
Elias, the vampire, interjected—voice soft as a knife sliding through silk. “What about survivors? There are always survivors.”
I turned to him. “That’s what you and your partner are for. Clean up the mess. You can eat whoever’s left.”
Marrow stared back, unmoving, the red in his irises eating the light. “And what do you want done with the Alpha?”
“Bring me his head.” My wolf surged under my skin, claws digging at my insides. “Alive if you can, but I’m not picky.”
Krag, the fridge-shaped demon, rumbled, “And if the Council sniffs this out before we move?”
I snorted. “Council’s got its own problems. Varic Otero’s playing nice with Iron Valor for now, but he’s still pissed about what they did to King Calloway. Council only intervenes if it gets too public. That’s why we do it fast and dirty. Keep ournames and faces out of it. Iron Valor has amassed many enemies after what Menace did to Calloway and Madison.”
Vex leaned forward, one thin hand reaching for the map. “What about the guards in the east tower? They rotate every four hours. Even if you get in, they’ll spot the explosives before they go off.”
I smiled, all teeth and old pain. “Leave the east tower to me. I’ll have it taken out.”
Rook looked surprised. “How?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Just be ready to move when I call.” I let my gaze sweep the table, took a long drag of the cigarette Vex had just lit. The tip flared bright and then went to ash, a little death on the tongue.
