“Why didn’t you kill him?” she asked, grabbing the second gun from the floor. Her hands vibrated, and that made her angrier.
Emerson kept the remaining weapon trained on the dark end of the corridor, scanning the shadows for movement. “I’m going to question him later,” he said. “After I get us out of this mess.”
“It was your contact who sent us here,” Audrey muttered.
“I know,” he hissed. “I trusted the wrong parasite.”
Emerson kicked the hallway door open, keeping the gun steady while the day’s overcast air rushed in. They came out into a narrow, damp lane, then moved quickly toward the opening at the end. Beyond it, an abandoned lot sprawled out, all broken pavement and wild weeds. The city’s sky was still overcast, bordering on dark, and the lot opened into a circle of pale light under a single streetlamp. It blinked once.
Someone was already standing beneath it, perfectly still. Waiting for them.
Emerson slowed.
Audrey felt it a moment later—a trace of thoughts in Voírían. He was male, and her throat sealed. “That isn’t my mother,” she whispered.
Emerson didn’t reply.
The man smiled. “You’re late,” he said.
14
The man’s aura hit first, pressing against Audrey’s ribs. Air contracted in the alley as if he alone could impact gravity.
Everyone stayed silent. Down the street, a loose bottle clinked slowly across the asphalt.
Only three people had ever carried that weight: her mother, her sister…and herself.
His power was more than raw strength. And right now, whatever he was stood between her and everything she cared about. If she couldn’t match him, she might lose more than this standoff—any chance of finding the truth or reclaiming herself.
His stance wrenched at her memory—the cock of his head, his loose shoulders. He pushed his hood back. In the lamppost, recognition took the air from her lungs. He had the same fine bone structure as in the files, the same disturbing resemblance to Ryker.
Mihail. The photo from Emerson’s tablet.
Amusement shone in his ink-black eyes while the wind teased his longer curls away from his face.
Emerson stepped in front of her, all towering muscle. He switched instantly into that melodic alien language, spitting out a string of words.
Mihail stopped a few paces away, arms folded. He looked like he’d joined a quiet conversation, but Audrey felt every one of his senses crawling over her. Amusement faded to interest in his face.
Tall and severe, he reminded her of Ryker, but with a different energy: less fearsome, less like a tyrant. That made her nervous.
She slammed her shields back into place.
Mihail’s attention slid lazily toward Emerson, his face turning into bored contempt. He replied in Voírían, the language flowing from him like silk.
Emerson answered curtly, spreading his arms in mock invitation. “Back,” Emerson growled in English, his gun not wavering from Mihail’s chest.
Mihail moved forward anyway, straight into the barrel. His tone stayed composed. “I think we need to be clear about who’s actually in charge here.”
Emerson moved.
Audrey barely saw the motion. Emerson lunged, gun raised. But an invisible force pushed him sideways into the asphalt. The crack carried through the alley and Audrey’s teeth.
Mihail stood exactly where he’d been. Only the slight clenching of his hands suggested effort. “I’m the only one who barks orders around here,” he said to the unconscious man at his feet.
The whole exchange had taken less than a breath.
In one blink, Emerson stood; the next, he was spread out on the road like a thrown-away puppet. Audrey struggled to accept that massive, lethal Emerson was down, and Mihail hadn’t evensweated. Fear slid cold through her. This was why the Aggregate wanted Mihail so badly, but he wasn’t even the most wanted.
