“You okay?” Razor asked quietly, his face grim with concern.
She managed a nod, but his solemn expression told her he saw through the calm front she was working so hard to maintain. Maybe everyone could see through her. Once breakfast was finished and Willow got up to help clear the dishes, Leni gave her a sympathetic look.
“We’ll take care of all this,” she said. “You two can take the laptop into the den for some privacy. Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you,” Willow replied.
Razor nodded in gratitude to his brother, then let his palm ride gently at Willow’s back as they left the kitchen to retrieve the laptop from the living room. The adjacent den had a door, which Razor closed behind them once they were inside.
He went right to the task at hand, taking a seat in a leather armchair and opening the computer on the coffee table in front of him. With the flash drive in his hand, he paused, glancing up at Willow.
“If you’re not ready to do this right now—”
“I am,” she said, despite the fact that her legs felt wooden beneath her and her hands were trembling so hard she had to fold her arms in front of her just to hold herself together.
Frowning, Razor set the flash drive on the table and went to her. He pulled her into his embrace and simply held her for a long moment. The warmth and strength of his body enveloped her like a balm. The steady beat of his heart pulsing against her cheek as she leaned into him was a reassurance and a comfort she greedily drank in, regardless of how vulnerable it made her feel to need Razor’s presence like she did.
He stroked her hair, then pressed a kiss to her brow. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, as if he understood her feelings even without her speaking them aloud. “No matter what’s on that drive or what’s still to come after we open it, we’re in this together, Willow.”
She nodded, then pulled back to look up into his solemn face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
His answer came in the form of a kiss. Not the heated, hungry kisses they’d shared last night but a tender one. A kiss that brushed over her lips with such care and sincerity it swept her breath away. When he drew away his irises smoldered with crackling amber sparks.
“The flash drive is yours, Willow. You’re calling the shots here. What do you want to do?”
She took a fortifying breath. “Let’s fire it up.”
He nodded once, then led her by the hand to the seat next to his. She leaned forward in her chair, watching as he slipped the drive into the laptop and clicked to open it. A digital folder full of files filled the screen. Razor clicked on the first one.
Willow didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Laurel’s face appeared on the laptop monitor. All the pent-up air in her lungs leaked out of her on a jagged sigh.
“Hey, Wills.” The video had been recorded in what appeared to be a hotel room. Laurel looked tired and fatigued, but still vibrant and beautiful—so heartbreakingly real—as she stared into the camera and offered a sad little smile. “If you’re watching this, I guess it means I’m dead. God, what an awful cliché. Just know that I’m sorry to be dragging you into my problems like this. The last thing I wanted was for you to be part of it.” She glanced down briefly and slowly shook her head. “Unfortunately, you already are part of it. If they’ve gotten to me, they’re going to be coming for you next.”
The coil of dread Willow had been feeling all morning grew a bit colder as she listened to her sister’s ominous warning. She glanced at Razor and found him staring at the screen with a deepeningly suspicious scowl.
“I suppose I should start at the beginning, right?” Laurel asked rhetorically. “I’m too ashamed to tell you any of it in person, but at this point—now that you’re watching this video—the only chance you have to survive is if you know the whole story. And my role in it.”
Willow swallowed. She’d never seen her sister speak with such gravity or remorse. Being her twin, Willow could almost feel the weight of Laurel’s regret just by seeing her face and hearing her voice on camera.
“Working at the Unity for Wellness and Safety Institute in Montreal had been a dream for me,” Laurel said. “I couldn’t believe Theo and I both landed jobs there fresh out of college. The UWSI may be a small research institute, but it’s considered one of the best in the world. The most cutting-edge technologies, the most prestigious programs, the most innovative scientists. And, due to all of that, UWSI is also the recipient of the most generous research grants, many of them funded by anonymous, powerful organizations and individuals . . . all with their own private agendas as I later realized. By the time I learned the truth, it was too late.”
Onscreen, Laurel reached for something nearby. She held up a small vial filled with clear liquid. “Two years ago, Theo and I were assigned to an experimental project called Serenicure, which was tasked with finding a cure for Bloodlust in the Breed. Its mission was to help put a stop to Breed predation on humans. I know I don’t have to tell you how committed I was to that cause, Wills.”
A low, menacing sound emanated from Razor. “I don’t like where this is heading.”
Willow didn’t either, but she couldn’t find words for all the emotions suddenly churning inside her. She reached over to hold on to Razor’s hand as Laurel continued to speak.
“The effort to potentially eliminate Rogue violence once and for all by reversing Bloodlust was more than just an assignment to me. It became my obsession. Other clinics and institutes had attempted their own formulas for treating vampiric behavior, but none had succeeded. The closest anyone had come to suppressing Breed behavior was a clinician from a small, specialized practice in Massachusetts. His name was Dr. Henry Lewis.”
“Son of a bitch,” Razor muttered.
“You know him?”
He gave a tight shake of his head. “I only know of him—and his work. That sick bastard served Dragos and his breeding lab back in the day. Henry Lewis concocted some kind of chemical mix that held Breed transformation at bay. He used it on some of the Gen Ones created in Dragos’s lab, most notoriously on a Breed female named Tavia Fairchild before she eventually caught on and killed the asshole. Tavia’s mated to Sterling Chase now, the chief of the Order’s Command Center in Boston.”
Willow stared at him, unsure which part of that information surprised her more. “I didn’t realize you’re that familiar with the Order’s warriors and the general workings of their organization.”
He shrugged absently, most of his attention still fixed on Laurel. “I’ve done a few favors for them over the years. I find it pays to have allies in as many places as possible.”
