Wolfe glanced over at Anya. “I hear your coya ordered that move while you were healing. None of us considered the women’s bags and wraps that were left there, and the fact that the council members in on this may have stolen those items knowing no one would be there to collect them. It was an ingenious plan.”
Anya’s gaze focused on Del-Rey. Male pride was a tenuous thing; she should have thought of that before having any military plan proposed. As Brim had told her while Del-Rey slept, she should have waited, presented it to the alpha then to the cabinet rather than ordering one of the soldiers to prepare the proposal.
Del-Rey’s lips twitched in amusement as he glanced at her. “She ran Base with the same dedication and commitment that Hope and Faith showed her was her due as they overlooked Haven. I have you to thank for approving the time Hope gave her.”
Anya sniffed at that. Damned manipulating Wolves and Coyotes. A woman didn’t have a chance against them. They even taught their women how to scheme and manipulate. It should be illegal.
She turned her gaze back to the interrogation, barely restraining a yawn as Jonas Wyatt, the badass of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, asked the bartender again who his contact was and how he received his assignments.
“Man, look, I told you,” the bartender sneered. “I ain’t no damned Breed assassin, and if I was, I wouldn’t get caught.”
“You stink of blood, Mr. Coley,” Jonas drawled. “I have your file; I know you better than you know yourself now. You’re one of those disposable little peons. But even peons have information, and you will tell me what I want to know.”
“Or what, you’ll snarl and growl at me?” Ron leaned forward, his arms braced on the table as his pitted face screwed into lines of disgust. “Or you gonna bite me?”
Anya barely saw the blurred movement of Wyatt’s arm. But a second later, claw marks, deep and bloody, swiped down the bartender’s face, and he squealed like a gutted pig and jumped back as far as the chains would allow.
He stared into the two-way mirror, seeing the blood dripping down his face now, the marks that extended over his eye, then below the eye and down the cheek to his jaw.
Anya had never seen anything like it.
“Damn, Wyatt’s getting pissed.” The alpha pride leader stepped closer to the window. They couldn’t see Wyatt’s face, only Coley’s and his was filled with terror now.
“So, are you ready to answer my questions, Mr. Coley?” Jonas’s voice was cool, unfazed as the bartender began to shake in reaction.
Coley’s gaze jerked down to the table and he seemed to pale further. “That’s not possible,” he wheezed at whatever he was looking at.
“Look at me, Mr. Coley.”
Coley’s gaze jerked back to the Bureau director’s face.
“Very good. You will stay on topic, or I’ll make certain the next time I slice you that it goes to the bone, perhaps takes an eye. That’s not a pleasant experience for the victim, and it’s rather messy when I have to do it. I’d prefer not to have to resort to those means. Now, are you willing to give me the information I asked for?”
Coley swallowed tightly. “They said kill the girl. She was that Coyote’s wife or something. Kill her and the Coyotes would start dropping out of that base. We might even be able to get a few back to the Council. I was supposed to have help. There were supposed to be six of us. We were to kill the women first as we made our way out of the ballroom. As many as we could, paying special attention to high-ranking wives or lovers. Kill them, they said, and you break the Breeds’ backs. That’s all I know.”
“Who was your contact?”
Coley shuddered. “I got a kid.” He lifted his eyes, his gaze tortured now.
“Why should I care about your kid?” Jonas asked coldly.
“She’s only thirteen.” He swallowed tightly. “I know things they didn’t know I know. I heard about Breeds. You don’t hurt kids, no matter what. You protect my kid, and I’ll give you information I know you don’t have.”
“Such as?” Jonas asked him.
“The names of the city council members here and in Virginia near Sanctuary who are involved in a plan to take out the Breed leaders. And I got more. I got names of Breeds helping them.” He was still staring at Jonas in horror. “God, man, stop doing that shit, please. I’ll give you what you want, but you gotta protect my kid. I just do this for the money. That’s all. Just for my little girl. I’ll give it to you.”
Anya stared into the room in horror. Her gaze flipped from the scene below to the cold, hard gazes of the Breeds watching as well.
“Gentlemen?” Callan Lyons turned to the others questioningly.
“His daughter is handicapped. Blind,” Dash stated. “Thirteen years old.”
“Call Wyatt back here,” Wolfe said. “I suggest we send out a team, collect the girl and then requestion Coley. He’s asked for asylum for his daughter of his own free will. Let’s see what we can get.”
They turned to Del-Rey.
“It’s your decision to make, Del-Rey,” Wolfe told him. “The hit was primarily against your coya.”
He stared into the room as Anya watched him, knowing exactly what his decision would be. That knowledge was frightening; she knew, even before he spoke, the stance he would take.
“The child is the most innocent in this whole mess,” he growled. “I’d like Brim on the team that goes after her. I’d suggest a team of enforcers only, fully sanctioned to retrieve the child at all costs. She’ll be watched. They know we have the bartender; they may have already taken the child themselves to assure his silence.”
Callan activated the speaker into the room. “Retrieval of minor child approved and sanctioned,” he stated. “You have the full assurance of each alpha leader that her safety will be our top priority, Mr. Coley. As long as you cooperate.” Callan winced at the last sentence, and the expression on each alpha’s face assured Anya that no matter what Coley did, that child would never know anything but safety.
Children were the focal point of every Breed Anya had ever talked to. It didn’t matter if it was a rare Breed child or a human child on the street. Breeds were always aware when a child was around and they were always protective of them.
Coley nodded as Jonas handed him a handkerchief. “For your face,” the director stated, though Anya glimpsed the blood on his nails. “We’ll get a doctor in here to look at those scratches. We wouldn’t want your daughter frightened for you when she sees you.”