“But youdidn’tkill them.” She nods to the screen. “So… what did you do?”
“Convince her we’re not psychotic serial killers, Sylvan,”I plead.
“I sent everything to your brother. They’ve all been arrested. It’s all over the news.” Sylvan taps a key, and a muted news clip appears on the screen. “The Pembrokes’ reputation is ruined. His family have publicly disowned himafter pinning him with any and all crimes. He’ll probably die in prison. They’ll most likely hire someone to do it.”
She watches the news report, the aerial footage displaying his mansion and screenshots of redacted emails. Lawyers in expensive suits appear before being descended on by mobs of reporters. Crowds hold signs readingBITE BACK,OMEGA RIGHTS,andEAT THE RICH, the words painted in angry red.
When she sinks back against my chest, that small action settles my alpha more than any bark could. Because after hearing us admit to killing people, she’s chosen to stay.
To trust us.
Which I guess makes her a little crazy too.
Exactly why I like her.
Her gaze moves between us, thoughtful instead of afraid.
“I lost one of my dads, did you know that?”
My previous thoughts are washed away as I remember the day Rue’s background search was sent to us. How his impressive stint in the army was cut short by a sudden death.
“Yes,” Kaiden says. “Before we hire anyone, we conduct extensive background checks. It appeared then.”
“And what did it say?” She stares ahead at the news.
“Died in service,” Sylvan answers.
Revea lets out a bitter laugh, one that makes me tense. Our pack bond becomes taut.
“Yeah, well, my remaining dads and brothers left the army after he died. Not because he died. Because of what led to it.”
She chews on her lip.
“He was told to meet someone who’d fled a terrorist group. They said the man was willing to hand over vital intel in exchange for refugee status. That’s the story they gave my dad.”
She swallows.
“What they didn’t tell him was that the group had threatened to bomb a nearby army base. They’d already sent proof they had people inside who could do it. Their demand was simple. Hand over a few senior officers, or the base goes up.”
Her voice hardens.
“So all the powerful men in that room made a decision. They wrote five names down. Put them in a helmet. Drew them out like it was some sick raffle. Then they fed those men a bullshit mission and sent them straight into it.”
My hands curl into fists.
“One of the commanders couldn’t live with it,” she continues quietly. “He left the room and found one of my dads. Told him the names they’d drawn.”
She stares down at the bed.
“But by the time they tried to reach them… stop them…”
Her fingers tighten in the sheets.
“They found the transport blown to pieces. My dad on the road.”
I barely hold back the growl building in my chest, the urge to hunt every person involved down and ruin them humming through the bond.
“And those commanding officers,” she says, voice flat now, “the ones who sacrificed my dad and those men, were given medals for stopping the explosion.”
