“It can’t be that hard to find five thousand of these things,” Simon mutters, savagely typing away at his laptop, the light of the screen reflecting in his glasses.
“They’d have to be heavily warded to avoid our search for them. The Soldiers must know we’re tracking them. I can’t imagine anyone strong enough to create wards like that besides Ian.”
Ian’s face darkens. “I know someone. Alan Cadigan. He taught me to ward, but he must have caught on that I know his style of warding when we took down the collar facility. He’s a smart enough man to change his tactics.”
Even after leaving Fairhaven Academy, the older alpha is still causing problems for us.
“So, we don’t have any idea where the collars are, nor the type of warding to search for?” Simon surmises.
Colin swears and shoves his laptop away.
One of Cassian’s other fathers, Roman, swings into the kitchen after setting the table in the dining room, looks briefly over Simon’s shoulder with about as much understanding as I would, then goes to Bethany at the stove, wrapping an arm around her and stealing a taste of the sautéed asparagus she’s making. She swats at him playfully, but the mood in the kitchen remains subdued.
Gerard Leclerc, Cassian’s father and a member of the Council of Nine, limps into the kitchen, letting out a heavy sigh. He moves slowly, stiffly, as he finishes up his call. Though the Ever Ember was removed by Ian, the aftermath of the attack on the Hall of the Council of Nine is plain to see in the shadows under the councilor’s eyes.
“Yes, Graeme. I’ll divert more aid to the freed omegas. My tactical team should be there within the hour with a delivery of clothes and additional blankets. I wish I could do more. No, I understand. Of course. Call me if anything changes.”
He ends the call with another heavy sigh.
“Thanks for the help, Dad,” Cassian says, standing from the table and going to hug his father.
“I just wish helping more wouldn’t put the omegas at risk, but it’s best that as few people know about the castle as possible. That as few people come and go as can be managed. I hate that they’re forced to be hidden away, but it would be far more dangerous for the Soldiers of Saint Aldous to know where they are. Our enemy is too great of a threat. Those poor omegas should be free to go about their lives, but as long as they have affinities and the Soldiers exist, there’s little chance of that.”
“And protecting, hiding or otherwise abetting them is now treason,” Simon mutters, sitting back from his laptop. “The Council thought they’d sneak that through, but I’ve read the documents.”
“Councilor Holden has been using the pandemonium following the attack to shove legislation through left and right,” Gerard laments. “He’s not even hiding his agenda, and he doesn’t have to. We can’t even oust him. The Soldiers have too many omegas in captivity that will die if we don’t comply.”
“A complete miscarriage of justice,” Roman says, turning away from the stove, though his hands linger on his mate.
“We’re trying to rebuild after the attack, but it’s been slow going. We’ve been stymied at every turn by Holden and his supporters. This isn’t tenable.”
Colin types a few lines of code into his computer and swears again. “I’ll tell you what’s not tenable. These fucking collars being hidden this well.”
Bethany lets out a grumble, and all her mates turn to her. “Shoo,” she says, “or help me put out dinner.”
“Aside from Holden, the Soldiers have gone to ground,” Colin says, eyeing the readout on his screen.
“I’ve noticed that too,” Gerard agrees. “They must be planning something big. Something even bigger than Halcyon and funding the Prime Minister’s reelection campaign. I have a bad feeling in my gut. Something’s coming.”
Bethany glares at her mates. “Did I not just say ‘shoo’? We’re here to celebrate Cassian, remember? Our brilliant, hardworking son?”
The front door swings open and Douglas, the last of Cassian’s fathers to join us, walks in, shrugging out of his jacket.
“Something smells good! And the kids are all here.Wonderful. I hope you didn’t start without me,” he says.
The mood lightens after that, but I’m left to darkthoughts as we move to the dining room for dinner. My visions have been grimmer than Gerard’s words. Images of Baphomet’s Prince leading his army against the world, an alpha in a mask with fire trailing from his hands, an alpha with ice powers. Omegas forced from trucks and pushed along by the Soldiers into internment camps, killed if they resist.
All-out war.
My mate slain before my eyes as I fight the thorns of an omega trap.
“What is it, princess?” Luca asks, the back of his hand brushing mine, our fingers twining, as we make our way to the dining room.
“Something’s coming,” I echo.
“We’ll face it,” he promises, raising my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
Ian turns and gives me an inscrutable look, no doubt knowing just where my thoughts strayed to, feeling my bleak mood through our bond. He reaches back for me and brushes his fingertips over my cheek, leaving the scent of cedar and bergamot behind.
