"Did what you said. Cleared out his compound. As you said, ten women all dressed up like high-priced contract girls. Most of his drones were female too. Found his stash—a safe—and retrieved ten data pads, all new tech, password-protected."
"He had a scribe handle his finances. I bet he knows the passwords."
"Got twenty-six men in the hole. They all look like beta scribes."
"Keep them alive. I want to talk to the man who knows how Tenbel spent his money. Ask the drones. Are they used up?"
"The drones? Yeah, they’re in bad shape."
"They will help, then. They’ll get a little revenge. They can go into C too."
Mac nodded. "Tenbel was the type to think drones deaf and dumb. But they won't talk to me. I tried. They started peeing themselves and blubbering before I got within ten feet of them."
"You ask about the breeder?" The breeder in question stiffened when he mentioned her in the third person.
"No one said anything," Mac answered.
"I want to know everything."
"What'd she say about it?" Mac nodded in Naya's direction.
Monster looked at her. "Naya?"
"Am I a person now?” she asked tersely. “In the room with you?"
Darre bounced his knees, rocking her. She squawked and grabbed at his shirt. She really had no fear. The beast loved that, but the man wasn't sure how he felt about it.
"How did you end up with Tenbel?" he asked.
"I woke up in a box." She shivered at the memory and his hand automatically moved in a soothing motion up and down her arm. "A wooden box. I went to sleep in my bed in Sector 5 and woke up being pulled out of a box. I was so folded up in there it was hard to stand after. Everything was numb. And I was sleepy. I couldn't focus. I don't know how I got there, or why. I asked him. He wouldn't tell me anything."
"You're small,” Darre mused. “Must have been a packing crate. He probably bribed Administration guards. But they couldn't have known you were a breeder. One smell of you they would have kept you for themselves, not let you into Sector 2."
He looked at Mac again. "See if you can find out. Is she the only one? Fuck. If someone is sending registered breeders into this sector, there is nothing to stop the Administration from coming in with an army after them."
"Isn't that what we want? To confront the Administration? Everything else we have done, they ignored us. Maybe someone important is going to look for this one." His eyes flicked briefly toward Naya before falling away.
"You think we’re ready to confront the Admin army?” Darre asked, his tone darkening. “You said there aren't enough trained men to take out that whoreson Berandal, and you want to face those young fuckers in the Administration army with the hired sector-rejects? Is that what you are saying?
"Naya's number is flagged. Contact Seta. If anyone is talking about breeders or women smuggled through the wall, I want to know about it. I should've known about it already. Where the fuck is Seta on this? Are my eyes and ears failing me?"
"I'll send a runner for him. You're right; we should have heard about this. Couple of the crow's women look registered. I'm sure they didn't come through willingly."
"My family must be so worried," Naya said. "Can I send them a message?"
"No." The answer came from low in his chest, so fast Darre didn't have a chance to assess the question. The monster saw her family as a threat, one he’d prefer to eliminate. The best choice was to keep them far, far away from his mate.
Darre could feel the weight of Mac's thoughts. They both had the goal of laying waste to Rhineholth and his Administration machine, exposing the man for the lying hypocrite that he was, opening breed eyes so they could see the corrupt, self-serving behemoth the Administration had become.
One thing about Mac, he was in a hurry for his revenge, ready for more blood and less subterfuge. Darre had never wanted a hand-to-hand war. He'd not spent his time gathering an army for one. But he wasn't afraid of it, either. Death and destruction might be his favorite activities, but his overall goal was change. A big pit fight wouldn't change anything.
Administrative change was more important than Administration blood, but Mac didn't always see the distinction.
Darre could feel Mac sizing him up, looking at his new weaknesses. Darre had taken a breeder-mate. Instinct had shifted his priorities. He would want to shelter and protect her, not risk her in a conflict with Administration Enforcers.
Mac had no breeder. He had no chance of finding the other half of his soul, of fathering alpha sons and omega daughters. He could have a shallow emotional connection with some beta if he wanted, but he'd not know full physical satisfaction or the completion of a true bond.
Instead he'd given himself over to bringing the Administration down. A fighter through and through, Mac craved direct confrontation. He wanted to see his enemies bleed, but didn't have the muscle to back up his punch. He'd followed Darre, thinking he was that muscle.
