“They’ve got a female running with them,” Rafe said. “They call her Brinks.”
Gideon frowned. “We’re not aware of a woman being part of the gang.”
“Well, she is. And she sure as hell doesn’t want me around. I tried to get information out of her, but she stonewalled me at every turn. She made it clear she doesn’t want me hanging around.”
Chase’s eyes narrowed. “You think she’s on to you?”
Rafe shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think her problem is something personal.”
He wasn’t ready to voice all of his thoughts about her yet, least of all the one that had been haunting him since he clashed with her on the rooftop.
All of his warrior instincts were telling him she wasn’t what she seemed.
All of his Breed instincts were telling him something even more troubling.
She was an immortal. Probably not Atlantean, since members of that race didn’t react to spilled blood the way she had at Asylum. Which only left one other possibility.
And that possibility not only raised a hell of a lot of questions, but put him at a risky disadvantage if he meant to embed himself as one of Cruz’s gang.
In Rafe’s grim silence, Lucan studied him. “Figure the woman out, get her story. Report back with your findings next time we talk.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was a command Rafe intended to pursue with ruthless determination.
And if she continued pushing back on him or impeded his mission, he would take whatever steps necessary to remove her from his path.
~ ~ ~
The tea kettle whistled, the sharp complaint piercing Devony’s daydream as she stood in the kitchen of her brownstone in Boston’s affluent Back Bay.
Although to call her dark thoughts a daydream was far from apt.
She hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours after coming home last night. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind flooded with images of the Breed warrior, Rafe. She couldn’t shake the memory of all his probing questions, or the jab of dread she’d felt when he grabbed for her on the terrace and she saw the flash of confusion in his aquamarine eyes.
That instant flicker of suspicion . . . and dawning realization.
He knew.
He knew she wasn’t human. Whether or not he’d guessed she was Breed or something close to it, she couldn’t be sure.
Devony didn’t stick around to find out. She hadn’t been able to get away from him fast enough. She’d fled the penthouse party for home, and for the rest of the night she worried about what he might say to Fish or the others.
She still worried now, because if he had given Cruz or anyone else a reason to doubt her, it would undo everything.
All her hard work and planning. All the sacrifices she’d made to get even this far.
All the promises she’d made through bitter tears and a seemingly bottomless pain.
Devony steeled herself to the anguish that still had a firm hold on her. Taking the kettle off the heat, she fixed herself a cup of strong tea and carried it through the spacious first floor of the Darkhaven.
The brownstone was hers now, but had been in her family for decades. She had lived in it on her own while attending university in Boston the past two years. Her plans for a career in music were over now, although that was the least thing she missed. She hadn’t stepped foot in her classes in months, but she stayed in the old house because she couldn’t bear to return home to London.
Not after what had happened.
Not until she had upheld her vow to make it right, to make someone pay.
Maybe she wouldn’t even return then.
