Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(77)

There wasn't any other way, though, unless I wanted to hand the Pack and everything else I had to a victor who'd have no mercy for my son. This was the only way.

"Son, you'll do this because I love you. I'll do it because you love me. That will never change," I said. "Remember that when I'm gone and you're Packmaster—that there was love between us, even at the last."

"Daddy." He came to me then and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Hush, son, it'll be all right," I said and held him tight.

*

Opal

As it turned out, I'd been right about the rogue god. The trouble was, he had a Sirenali, which meant Matt and I had no way to get to him, or to tell how powerful he was. We'd pretty much screwed up by not taking things more seriously than we had.

I told you so wanted to come out of my mouth so badly, that I had to physically stop my words from forming. Matt misinterpreted my frown.

"I know I wasn't supposed to say anything to Hunter—it won't matter in the end," Matt snapped as I sent him a questioning look. "He'll just have a heads-up when they come to the door," he added.

"Right. So he'll have time to worry and be afraid beforehand," I retorted. "The timeline is fraying. Only a few more things to happen before it all turns to shit and we're on a battlefield again, only this time, it'll likely go the other way."

*

Gerrett

Corinne? I'd finally succumbed to my fears and attempted to contact her directly. Bekzi, who stood with me on the villa's patio, sighed and looked away. He knew what I was doing. He didn't try to stop me.

Honey, I can't talk right now, she returned. Will you do something for me, though?

Anything, I promised.

Ask Bekzi to make sure that you, James and Nathan are kept safe.

I will.

Thank you.

That was the end of our conversation. It was something I'd replay in my head in the future, but I failed to recognize the importance of it now. Instead, I relayed her message to Bekzi, who blinked at me with eyes that weren't quite humanoid before nodding.

"I do this," he confirmed aloud. "For her."

*

Notes—Colonel Hunter

"I think you may be in danger, too," I pointed out. Brett walked beside me, limping slightly since one of the bullets that hit him had been removed from his left leg. Valegar had healed the wound but it was still sore—that's what Brett said when I went to the ugly building in Arlington to collect him.

"Then why didn't they kill me when they had me before?" he asked.

"Because they wanted to make a point, and were probably counting on the Secret Service shooting you the minute they dropped you in the Oval Office," I said. "They want the President to know that they can now show up wherever, whenever. They want us all to know that nobody's safe. If that agent hadn't been a werewolf too, you'd be dead, now."

"At least the President has one good bodyguard, then," Brett huffed. "Where are we going?"

The winter sun was bright in the afternoon sky when we left the building, heading for the SUV I'd borrowed from the motor pool. I'd gone over it myself before settling in the driver's seat, and checked it again before allowing Brett to climb in on the passenger side.

Matt's call had spooked me—that's for certain. I had no idea whether there was a safe place for any of us, now. I sure as hell didn't want to go back to my office; it was the first place they'd look for me.

"We're going to a safe house," I said. "One the enemy doesn't know about."

I hope.

*

Morrett watched as Wymarr blasted the last of the personnel at the missile silo. According to Fisk, this was their last act—there was no need for anything else. They could leave the planet, knowing their goal had been accomplished.

When Wymarr sent these missiles toward their targets, there wouldn't be enough firepower to destroy all of them.

The countries in question would certainly retaliate.

More missiles would be launched—from everywhere.

Morrett had the vision of them crossing paths as they flew toward their intended targets. Nobody would be spared. Those who weren't killed by the bombs in the initial attacks would be subjected to a slow and hideous death as the poison destroyed them in swaths.

Fisk would make sure that he and his crew were far away when that happened. Fisk was upset that he couldn't retrieve Keef's body—it had been cremated in the blast set off by the intruders.

Morrett wondered if Deonus Wyyld knew his ASD Director was dead, yet. At first, he'd hoped ASD ships would come and deal with Fisk. He'd lost that hope soon after it formed.

Earth was too far from the Reth Alliance, and the doings on that remote planet held little interest for most of the Alliance's inhabitants. It was a lost cause, now. Morrett wanted to weep for lives lost, past and future, at the hands of Fisk and his crew.

Fuck Earth.

He recalled clearly what Fisk's underlings had written on the ceiling of the facility—the one where drug experimentation had been carried out.

Similar messages had been scrawled across walls on other worlds—just before Fisk and his crew destroyed them.

Morrett's obsession said he couldn't harm his masters. It didn't say he couldn't hate them. He hated Fisk with a passion equal and opposite to his love for books. He hated Fisk just as much as he hated his mother. Sliding down a wall in the underground bunker, he turned to reading as a distraction while Fisk's technicians disabled the archaic firing and guidance protocols, attached their own guidance systems to the missiles and then programmed them.