Boarlander Silverback (Boarlander Bears #3)(57)

“You’ll see. Just get in front of a television and turn on the news.”

“Local?”

“No, Harrison. National. Ally sent me something to put on the air. Something big.” There was a smile in her voice when she said, “You call me after and tell me how you like my editing. And Kirk?”

“Yeah, Cora?”

“You done good, boy.” Her voice was teasing, light, and didn’t make any damned sense, but before he could ask, the line went dead.

Harrison gave him a what-the-hell look and pulled straight through the trailer park to 1010 where the front door was standing wide open.

Every instinct in Kirk’s body told him to get to his mate. To touch her and hold her and convince his gorilla she was all right, but he smelled like smoke, and his boots were muddy from where the ash had mixed with the water and turned to thick, pungent glop.

On the porch of 1010, he peeled off his ruined shirt and kicked out of his boots, then stumbled through the front door into the soft glow of the living room lamp.

Emerson, Audrey, and Ally were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch. They twisted around with expectant looks on their faces. Audrey and Emerson got up and bolted for their mates, but Ally looked exhausted and winced when she tried. Had to be her foot hurting. It had a bad chemical burn all across her sole. He hoped she didn’t carry the limp forever, but she might.

Ally’s eyes had dimmed to a stormy blue and were hollow, and though someone had cleaned the cuts on her face, her skin was pale as a phantom. Kirk was haunted by the vision of her being hurt, sure, but she’d actually lived through Finn’s attack and betrayal. His chest rattled with a helpless noise as he strode around the couch and sank down beside her.

“Shhhh,” she whispered, pulling him closer and pressing her hand against his rattling chest. She rocked him gently like he was the one who needed comfort right now. Nurturing mate, caring for everyone else above herself. God, he loved her more than anything in the world.

On the glowing television was footage of the fire. A grainy, faraway picture of Damon’s massive dragon flying away from the explosion flashed across the screen, and a subtitle ran constantly across the bottom of the frame. Damon Daye murdered a human police officer. A picture of Ally appeared in the top right corner as a reporter listed her accomplishments in the field. In the picture, Ally had long brunette hair, her chin lifted proudly, and she looked striking in her police uniform.

“That feels like it was taken a million years ago,” she murmured.

Kirk sighed and dragged her against his side. “They think Brackeen’s body is yours. They think you’re dead.”

She huffed a soft laugh and nodded once. “Yeah, well, they won’t think that for long.”

Breaking News flashed across the bottom of the screen, and the news reporter pressed her fingertips to her ear and said, “We have new information regarding the fire in Damon’s mountains.”

“Here it is,” Emerson said nervously. “Turn it up.”

Kirk leaned forward, plucked the remote off the coffee table, and hit the volume button.

In the video, Ally sat on the couch where they were now sitting, the lamplight soft against her cheeks as she wrung her hands nervously. Her lips twitched into a smile, then fell as Emerson asked her from off camera, “Please state your name and what you do.”

“Uuuh, it’s the middle of the night on June sixteenth. Outside, there is a fire raging and threatening the mountains here. My name is Alison Holman. Officer Alison Holman,” she corrected with a nervous laugh. She looked straight into the camera and murmured, “And no matter what anyone is saying, I am most certainly not dead.”

“You were at that fire tonight?”

“Yes.”

The crinkle of paper turning sounded. “Was it Damon Daye who set that fire?”

“No. Damon Daye saved me from that fire.”

“Who…” Emerson cleared her throat and murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m really nervous.”

Ally smiled and said, “It’s okay. Just pretend it’s me and you.”

Emerson swallowed noisily as the camera panned to her. Audrey must’ve been filming. Emerson stood, sat next to Ally, and gripped her hand. “You’re my friend, and it’s hard to see you hurt. Last night, you were attacked unprovoked by your own partner. Choked. Chemically burned by a kill switch. And then someone doused your cabin in fire accelerant, filled it with gas, and lit a lighter. Who did this to you?”

“IESA. Not Damon Daye.” Ally’s face went stern, and her voice steadied. And then his strong-as-steel woman launched into the story of what happened. She didn’t embellish, didn’t exaggerate. She said it straight and missed nothing. She didn’t let IESA off the hook for a single thing.

“Why would they do this?” Emerson asked.

“Because my death was supposed to frame Damon Daye and cause war with the shifters. Shifters have been stripped of some of their rights already, and you have to ask yourself why. Don’t listen blindly to what the media feeds you,” she urged. “Do your research. Demand responsible coverage. Open your mind to the possibility that while shifters aren’t exactly like humans, they still care about the same things.”

The scene cut to a video of them at the falls. Of Ally sitting in Kirk’s lap, smiling at him like he was the most important part of her world. Emerson turned the camera on herself and Bash, kissed his cheek, and then laughed as he cupped her belly and nuzzled her neck affectionately.