Lucan scoffed at the sudden attempt at remorse. “Keep talking. You’re only pissing me off even more.”
“Please!” Gopnik’s voice climbed another octave. “You can’t just walk away and leave me in this shithole!”
Gideon paused next to Lucan. “Hold up. Did he just insult my work?” Fangs bared, he swung around and stalked back in front of the gleaming bars. “Fuck you, calling this a shithole. This entire cell is a bloody technological work of art, you ignorant wanker.”
Lucan cleared his throat, more amused than he should be, all things considered.
“Feel better now?” he asked as Gideon joined Hunter and him at the chamber’s exit.
Gideon raked a hand over the spiky ends of his short blond hair, his gaze still burning amber with insult behind the pale blue lenses of his glasses. “Shame the asshole’s only human. I’d love to give him a little taste of everything that cell is equipped to do.”
Lucan smirked. “As much as I agree, we’ll have to save the shock and awe show for another time. We’ve got work to do. Even more, now that we’ve hit a dead end here.”
The three warriors stepped out to the corridor, Gideon activating the chamber’s coded lock behind them. Once the door sealed shut, Lucan blew out a sharp curse.
“Goddamn Opus. They’ve got us by the balls, and they know it. That’s not going to change so long as they’re able to continue hiding away, wreaking wholesale terror around the globe. Red Dragon. UV weaponry. They’re hitting us from all angles and until we can take out the nerve center of Opus’s operation, all we can do is scramble to put out the fires as soon as they set them.”
“Send me,” Hunter said. “Stealth exterminations are what I was born for.”
He meant it literally. There was none more proficient in the art of assassination than the huge Gen One Breed male who’d been bred, raised, and disciplined into an unfeeling, perfect killing machine in the labs of a madman who had once been the Order’s chief adversary.
As diabolical as Dragos had been, Opus Nostrum was worse.
“You know I’ll never doubt your skill, Hunter, but Opus is a fucking Hydra. Cut off one head and another rises up, then another. We’ve proven that ourselves. Each time we think we’ve won, a new leader assumes control. Faceless. Nameless. We have no idea how many sit at the top of Opus’s chain of command, let alone who the sons of bitches might be.”
“We have done some damage,” Hunter reminded him. “Reginald Crowe and his treacherous daughter Iona Lynch, Fineas Riordan . . . along with several others, Breed and human, who’d still be serving Opus Nostrum had the Order not terminated them.”
“True, but it’s not enough,” Lucan said. “We’ve only been making dents in the organization. We need to obliterate it from the top. Meanwhile, the entire cabal’s identity is being shielded by layers of security and technology we’ve yet to penetrate.”
“For the moment, that is,” Gideon interjected. “The software worm I’ve written will burrow past any level of security. The trouble is, I need to know where to send it. We’d been hoping Scarface in there would have intel I could use, but obviously that’s a bust.”
Lucan despised the setback, something they damn well couldn’t afford. “Then we’ll keep sweeping up Opus foot soldiers until we get the intel we need.”
Hunter gave him a grim nod. “Consider it done. I’ll begin that directive as soon as we finish here. What will you do with the human we already have?”
“I’ll tell you what I’d like to do. Haul the useless piece of shit into my Global Nations Council meeting tonight and make a public example of him. I could tear out his throat as the highlight of the ridiculous speech I’m being pressed to make when I should be on the street cutting down Rogues with the rest of our teams.”
Gideon’s brows shot up. “You mean, the speech that’s set to be broadcast to every corner of the globe? Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point of your address tonight meant to reassure the world that the Order is doing everything possible to restore and maintain peace?”
Lucan felt his scowl deepen. “What about it?”
“Well, perhaps the message might go over a bit better if you don’t deliver it through bloodied fangs and with a human corpse at your feet. Just a suggestion.”
Lucan grunted. “Says the one who was ready to light up Gopnik’s ass inside that cell a minute ago.”
Gideon conceded with a shrug and a cocky grin. “Anyway, as I was saying, all we need is a lead that gets me anywhere near Opus’s connective tissue so I can inject my worm, then the real fun starts. We covertly unmask the inner circle, take out its members, and bring their whole operation crashing down.”
Lucan appreciated Gideon’s confidence. Hell, he shared it. But his nine centuries of living reminded him that few things ever went totally according to plan.
And there remained the ever-present threat of the Breed-killing arsenal at Opus Nostrum’s disposal. Not even a male of Hunter’s proven strength and skill would be able to withstand instantly lethal UV bullets or the mind-warping poison of Red Dragon.
The risks involved in going after Opus’s leadership were some of the worst the Order had ever faced.
To say nothing of the other battles brewing for them. One in Atlantis against the immortals’ spiteful queen. And a second--the one that eclipsed them all--against an otherworldly danger that had recently escaped a godforsaken patch of Siberian wasteland armed with a pair of Atlantean crystals holding the power to annihilate the world.
Yet tonight, when most of D.C. and countless other cities were in flames, overrun with Rogues manufactured by Opus Nostrum, Lucan was expected to promise relief from the horror.
The entire world was looking to him to reassure them that one day soon the chaos and terror would be over, that peace would finally come again and last this time.
