I fucking hate knowing she’s sad.
Viper shifts, his boots creaking, and he exhales sharply.
This is the last thing we need right now.
General Stone is unlike any foe we’ve ever faced. He’s not a hostile enemy. Nor is he a friend. We need our wits about us.
Instead, my protective instincts are going wild.
"Now, now. Let’s leave the past behind and focus on your future and howfortunatewe are that you’ve found your way back to each other,” General Stone says, his voice too smooth to be trusted.
I don’t believe in coincidences, and I certainly don’t believe General Stone relies on them.
He knew we’d be in Rheamont. He sent Halley into that blood-soaked mess for a reason. Maybe to force a reunion. Maybe to test her limits. Maybe both.
He lowers himself into the creaking leather chair behind his desk like a man settling into a throne.
The General looks older than the last time I saw him.
He was always old, but he's aged quickly. He has a frailty in his movements, and there is a tremor in his hands that wasn't there before. His hair is more white than gray and it's thinning on top.
But the cunning look in his eyes is the same.
He's still the tough old bastard he's always been. Manipulative. A seasoned strategist playing the long game, using us like pieces on a board he designed. I don’t know the extent of his manipulations, but if we play this meeting right, he may just tell us.
“You were the first team I put together that bonded, you know.” He steeple his fingers.
His sharp gaze flicks across the five of us like he’s still running calculations.
“I'd tried before.”
He created more squads like us?
“But I could never get the mix of personalities right. The Alphas always fought for dominance and the Betas were collateral. It was death and chaos, every time,” he says, almost fondly.
My stomach turns.
It’s like he’s recalling a fun little hobby that took a while to master. As if the soldiers before us were just scratches on a chalkboard and not a series of failed human experiments.
Something smug glints behind his thinning lashes.
“But you four were different,” he says. “You were magic from the beginning. And you knew it too. What do you call each other? Right. Brothers. Bonded as close as family… a Pack.”
A growl starts low in my throat, and I bite it back so hard my jaw pops. It vibrates through my teeth anyway, a primal sound of betrayal curdling in my gut.
Yeah. We knew.
We knew from our first mission that we were more than good together. We werealive. Four pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. Whole in a way none of us had been before.
And now he’s saying hedesignedthat. Our compatibility wasn’t fate. It was a slimy old man with control issues.
Blaze doesn’t bother trying to stop his growl.
“You sayin’ we’re an experiment, old man?” he snarls, pacing behind Halley like a captured wolf in a too small cage. She tenses with every pass, instinctively shrinking smaller, trying not to breathe too loud.
I hate that. Hate how close Blaze is to losing control. Hate that she’s in the blast radius if he does.
“Of course you were. Didn’t you ever wonder why you were given privileged treatment?” Stone replies, unbothered. As though it’s obvious and we should be grateful.
