to win raged outside their tight circle.
He sat up, regarded the heavily muscled ex-military male. “I was quick to serve him justice. But the human male could never have been an instrument for our use. He was a beacon, a homing device that if we captured and brought here would only have attracted the Order. They are not fools—they would’ve had him bugged.” The words, the clean explanation flowed from his lips with such ease. Problem was, while that was true, the reality was that he could not let the senator draw another breath after learning what he’d done, what he’d ordered to be done to Dillon. That had been the driving force behind his death sentence.
“Perhaps Gray’s right,” Piper said, her lavender eyes thoughtful. “Capturing him would’ve been foolish. We have his memories, his interactions with theOrder. We must comb through them and see if we can find the thread, the frequency the senator used to communicate with them. We must see if there is a member whose lock on their mainframe is not as tightly fused.”
Vincent nodded, but Rio looked less than convinced. Which was nothing new. The ex-military badass couldn’t help being continually suspicious.
“If we’re done here”—Gray got to his feet—“I’m going to see Samuel.”
“Good,” Vincent said. “While you’re there, have Uma check the frequency of visits from the Order on her next Paleo run.”
Turning toward him, Piper asked, “You think they’re slowing down castrations or speeding up?”
“I am hearing that more Impures are being taken to the Paleo than ever before. And I want to know why. I want to know if they’re feeling our presence within the community.”
Gray nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
He left the room, headed to his own to change. He’d met Samuel Kendrick and his son and daughter during his short stint at the Paleo. As they’d awaited blood castration, Gray had learned that the old Impure had been his father’s best friend. He had learned through Samuel that his father had been no human, but an Impure and the secret head of the Resistance before he was found out and taken, then blood castrated by the Order. The shock of more lies within his family had cut Gray deep, and yet the knowledge had filled him with a sense of purpose. The truth combined with the visual nightmare of watching Samuel be dragged off—blood castrated in front of him—had changed Gray forever.
Dillon had rescued his sorry, naked ass from the Paleo that night, but Gray was determined to return. After weeks of using his new status, and the power of hearing others’ thoughts, he had found a Pureblood willing to be bought and used. Days later, he’d executed his first search and rescue at the Paleo, gotten the entire Kendrick family out, and had them housed in the vacant apartments below the Resistance headquarters for several months now.
And there they would remain, for as long as they liked, Gray thought while moving down the hallway. His father’s best friend would always have his help—regardless of how it may inconvenience or irritate one of the Resistance warriors.
Gray was nearly to his door when a sudden pain ripped through his skull. Dropping against the wood, he cursed and gritted his teeth against the intensity, against the blinding heat that shot up the base of his neck and spread like fingers of lightning. Flashbulbs behind his eyes, then images, memories flickering on the screen of his mind. The senator’s, Vincent’s, Piper’s, and then his own. But they weren’t his short-term memories. No. Fuck. These were from way back, from the days of the fire when he was a child.
With a groan, he barreled through the door and collapsed in a heap near the edge of his bed.
The Order had their blood extracted from their ancient veins every day. It was deposited in “banks” within the
credenti
s for daily distribution among the Impures. It was how the nine remaining rulers of the Eternal Breed kept watch, kept
He sat up, regarded the heavily muscled ex-military male. “I was quick to serve him justice. But the human male could never have been an instrument for our use. He was a beacon, a homing device that if we captured and brought here would only have attracted the Order. They are not fools—they would’ve had him bugged.” The words, the clean explanation flowed from his lips with such ease. Problem was, while that was true, the reality was that he could not let the senator draw another breath after learning what he’d done, what he’d ordered to be done to Dillon. That had been the driving force behind his death sentence.
“Perhaps Gray’s right,” Piper said, her lavender eyes thoughtful. “Capturing him would’ve been foolish. We have his memories, his interactions with theOrder. We must comb through them and see if we can find the thread, the frequency the senator used to communicate with them. We must see if there is a member whose lock on their mainframe is not as tightly fused.”
Vincent nodded, but Rio looked less than convinced. Which was nothing new. The ex-military badass couldn’t help being continually suspicious.
“If we’re done here”—Gray got to his feet—“I’m going to see Samuel.”
“Good,” Vincent said. “While you’re there, have Uma check the frequency of visits from the Order on her next Paleo run.”
Turning toward him, Piper asked, “You think they’re slowing down castrations or speeding up?”
“I am hearing that more Impures are being taken to the Paleo than ever before. And I want to know why. I want to know if they’re feeling our presence within the community.”
Gray nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
He left the room, headed to his own to change. He’d met Samuel Kendrick and his son and daughter during his short stint at the Paleo. As they’d awaited blood castration, Gray had learned that the old Impure had been his father’s best friend. He had learned through Samuel that his father had been no human, but an Impure and the secret head of the Resistance before he was found out and taken, then blood castrated by the Order. The shock of more lies within his family had cut Gray deep, and yet the knowledge had filled him with a sense of purpose. The truth combined with the visual nightmare of watching Samuel be dragged off—blood castrated in front of him—had changed Gray forever.
Dillon had rescued his sorry, naked ass from the Paleo that night, but Gray was determined to return. After weeks of using his new status, and the power of hearing others’ thoughts, he had found a Pureblood willing to be bought and used. Days later, he’d executed his first search and rescue at the Paleo, gotten the entire Kendrick family out, and had them housed in the vacant apartments below the Resistance headquarters for several months now.
And there they would remain, for as long as they liked, Gray thought while moving down the hallway. His father’s best friend would always have his help—regardless of how it may inconvenience or irritate one of the Resistance warriors.
Gray was nearly to his door when a sudden pain ripped through his skull. Dropping against the wood, he cursed and gritted his teeth against the intensity, against the blinding heat that shot up the base of his neck and spread like fingers of lightning. Flashbulbs behind his eyes, then images, memories flickering on the screen of his mind. The senator’s, Vincent’s, Piper’s, and then his own. But they weren’t his short-term memories. No. Fuck. These were from way back, from the days of the fire when he was a child.
With a groan, he barreled through the door and collapsed in a heap near the edge of his bed.
The Order had their blood extracted from their ancient veins every day. It was deposited in “banks” within the
credenti
s for daily distribution among the Impures. It was how the nine remaining rulers of the Eternal Breed kept watch, kept
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