God, she should have known. When he was chosen for this team, she should have warned the Breeds that she no longer trusted him as a husband. The problem was, she had trusted him as a supporter of the Breeds. He had been there with her when news of the incredible creatures first hit. He had been there during the first of the riots against Breed Law, and had expressed his outrage, his concern on their behalf. And all the while, he had been selling them out.
She should have suspected. It wasn’t the first assignment they’d had that had gone horribly wrong. Each time, the blame had fallen to others. Just as the blame would fall to her now.
She had trusted him, as the Bengal had stated. She had led him here, she had allowed him the opportunity to deceive and to plot against the Breeds. He’d tried to profit from their deaths, and he had paid for it.
As they exited the room and headed along the corridors, she was aware of the majority of the Breeds staying behind. They were like that. They cleared out those who weren’t Breeds, and they grieved for those lost before wrapping their bodies and carrying them to a safety that would be eternal. The Breed cemetery in Virginia, not far from Arlington, was a testament to the dedication that the Breeds felt for one another. They had fought for it, won it, and they carried out their own ceremonies without the benefit of any humans in attendance. As at Sanctuary, the Feline Breed compound, they grieved the loss of their own and buried them with all the gentleness and humanity that they hadn’t known in their lives.
“He won’t let me live,” she whispered, more to herself than to the one who sat her slowly back to her feet and began leading her through the corridors she had raced through earlier.
Her life was forfeit. Once that Breed healed and regained his strength, she would die. She had seen it in his eyes. Hell, she had tasted it in his blood. She could still taste it. Dark and feral against her tongue. She was marked, and she knew it.
“Breeds have an amazing sense of justice,” the one that led her through the facility stated softly. “You’ll live. But only because he knows you’ll suffer more for it.”
She looked up at him. There was an edge of wisdom in his amber gaze, a sense of regret. Mercury Warrant. His lionlike features were stoic and solemn, his gaze understanding despite the fact that she feared she didn’t deserve such a thing.
“I have no doubt he’s right,” she said tonelessly, forcing herself to walk, to place one foot in front of the other, to leave the facility and to face the blood and death that awaited outside as well.
Breeds and humans alike had died here, because the labs had been warned of the rescue force’s arrival. The Coyote and human soldiers that had awaited them had shown no mercy. Not that the rescue force hadn’t expected it once they realized what they were up against.
Many had known they would die. It had been par for the course in the past months, as betrayal after betrayal had marked each facility they had breached. It seemed there were as many willing to kill the Breeds among the humans as there were those willing to save them. And telling the difference between the two would never be easy.
“He was my husband,” she whispered.
“They’re usually the ones you can trust the least,” he responded.
She almost laughed. And how would he know? How could he ever understand that even though Douglas hadn’t been a good husband, still, he hadn’t been one she had seen as evil.
Abusive? Yes. A killer? No. She would have never imagined that he could see death in terms of profit.
“I’m so screwed,” she whispered painfully.
“I have no doubt,” he agreed, his voice cooler now. “It’s the price you pay, Cassa. And it’s not always a kind one.”
No, the price she would pay wouldn’t be a kind one.
CHAPTER 1
WOLF MOUNTAIN, COLORADO WOLF BREED BASE, HAVEN ELEVEN YEARS LATER
Cassa Hawkins slipped silently through the shadows of the Wolf Breed compound of Haven as she tried to ignore the misty rain falling and her own sense of anticipation. She felt like a ghost, like a shadow, unseen, unheard. It was a heady sensation to slip past Breed after Breed, undetected.
The chill night air wrapped around her and penetrated the black clothing she wore. Even the snug black cap that covered her hair did little to keep out the cold or the dampness. It added to the thrill, to the sense of disbelief and impending danger. She was insane, creeping around like this and she knew it. She couldn’t get far. It wasn’t possible that a drug had actually been created that could fool the Breed senses and allow her to get much farther past the sentries posted throughout Haven.
Someone was playing with her, allowing her to get only so far. That was the only explanation for the distance she had gained between the cabin she was assigned and the main offices of the compound, because there were too many Breed sentries posted. Breeds who had an incredible sense of smell. They were chosen for their positions simply because they were impossible to get past.
It wasn’t possible that such a drug could have been created, a drug that would fool the Breed’s superior ability to scent others. Was it?
According to the emails she had received and the small bottle of round white pills that had arrived at her apartment the week before, it was definitely possible. And she had been crazy enough tonight to actually take one. To slip it onto her tongue, to allow it to dissolve and enter her system before she left her cabin.
The reckless decision had concerned her, but only for brief moments. As many of her fellow reporters knew, Cassa had often been known to dare death. It was one of her faults, many said. She considered it one of her strengths. After all, her days were numbered and she knew it. She might as well get away with as much as possible until the day of reckoning arrived. Cabal may have allowed her to live this long, but she doubted that decision would last much longer.
In this case, intuition had spurred her on. The pictures of bloody bodies, the emails that had warned her that a rogue Breed was taking vengeance for some unknown crimes, and then the drug that arrived with the unsigned note that said the past always returned no matter how hard one fought it. The past was indeed always there. It hovered at her shoulder, ran through her nightmares and glittered in the golden flecks of Cabal St. Laurents’s eyes every time he looked at her. The past was alive and well. She didn’t need a killer to remind her of that. Just as she didn’t need anyone to remind her of the truth of her own actions.
The truth.