Chapter Four
MILO KEPPLER’S well-ordered, comfortable world was starting to fray at the edges, and he couldn’t tell a soul about it, because Duh .
People who did that suddenly disappeared, and Milo wasn’t about to join the ranks of the Vanished. A year ago he hadn’t even realized such a thing could happen. Not that he was one hundred percent sure, but….
There were too many such occurrences to ignore anymore.
I thought I knew my place in the vast scheme of things.
He’d been raised to believe shifters were the superior race. That humans were meant to serve them. That shifters were at the top of the evolutionary ladder, and one day humans would be in their rightful—inferior—place.
Now? He wasn’t so sure.
Milo’s childhood had been idyllic. The shifter school he’d attended had provided him with fertile soil in which to grow and develop. His athletic prowess had been applauded, his intelligence celebrated. When he reached the age of eighteen, his parents told him about the origins of shifters. Milo’s pride knew no bounds when his lineage revealed him to be a direct descendant of Ansger. And when he’d announced that he wanted to join the Geran military, his parents had supported him 100 percent. Joining the human military was out of the question. Physical exams and blood testing made that an impossibility unless someone in the command chain was also a shifter so physical exams could be doctored. Which was easier than anyone might think.
Shifters were everywhere .
He could still hear his parents’ words.
You can do whatever you set your mind to. You can excel at everything. You are born to lead.
Except once the first cracks appeared in Milo’s world, he began to have doubts about the future he was working toward.
Cracks never heal of their own accord. They always widen.
It was during military training that he’d first learned not all shifters are created equal. Gerans were the purebloods. He listened to the stories about the Fridans: How they were inherently weaker because they chose to mate with humans; how they would fail militarily because they were all pacifists at heart.
How Gerans were the elite of the shifter universe.
And now that he knew all this, Milo realized the signs were obvious. He could spot a Fridan with ease. They acted differently, for one thing, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that difference was. They lacked the hard edge that defined every Geran of Milo’s acquaintance. And rounding up Fridan dissenters to house them in camps had been a logical route. They could still be useful, after all. They could breed to provide foot soldiers, to increase numbers. Any resultant offspring not destined to be used in the battles to come were adopted by Geran couples and sent to the same kind of school Milo had attended, to receive an education at the highest level, to be nurtured, cared for, cherished.
They should be grateful. We’ve given them a future.
Except there were other uglier rumors circulating, rumors that Milo tried to ignore. Ones that said Fridan shifters were being killed.
That had to be propaganda, spread to sow dissent. Shifters did not kill other shifters. The military was there to protect all shifters, regardless which side they’d chosen.
By the age of twenty-seven, Milo had served in most of the camps, rising through the ranks, proving himself time and time again to be a soldier his ancestor would have been proud of. Four months ago, he joined the security force at his present camp, in charge of guarding the inmates. It wasn’t long before he was promoted to the position of Head of Compound Security, overseeing the arrival of new shifters and making sure they knew their place, that no one stepped out of line. It wasn’t an onerous task—whatever had brought them to the compound had also knocked the fight right out of them. Another indicator of Fridan weakness.
Then the ugliest rumors of all began circulating.
A shifter school in Boston had been raided. That the Fridans would dare to do something so heinous to children was hardly a surprise. It was a Fridan force, right? What else did anyone expect of them?
What rocked Milo to his core was what was whispered—that the Gerans in charge of the school had abandoned more than nine hundred kids. Just left them to their fate at the hands of the Fridans.
It had to be a lie, spread no doubt by Fridan sympathizers. It might even have been a thought planted in his head by some of the inmates, the two who were taken daily to the experimental block.
The ones Milo and every soldier under his command were ordered to take extreme care around. The word bandied about was mind control, and that was enough to send a shiver down Milo’s spine.
Are there many more like them out there?
Gods, he hoped not.
The terrible news that a camp in Montana had been under siege was seen as yet more confirmation that the Gerans were on the side of truth. Why else would the Fridans attack them?
More news filtered through, and it seemed the Gerans were indeed under attack. Another camp no longer existed, this one in Texas. When rumors that a second school had been targeted, this time in Croatia, and that yet more children had been left—deserted—Milo clung to his belief that it was still lies.
But what if it isn’t?
He couldn’t speak of this to anyone; he wasn’t stupid. But the idea haunted him that hundreds of children could be so easily….
Dumped.
Discarded.
Forgotten.
Whichever way Milo looked at it, that wasn’t right.
Then a new rumor started to circulate, one that increased the whispering in dark corners.
Some of the Fridans were claiming to have mates.
The first time Milo heard that fairy tale, he wanted to laugh out loud. Mates? For fuck’s sake. There was no such thing. The idea that there were people fated to be together, joined somehow? Not only physically but spiritually?
Preposterous.
The Fridans must think we’re really stupid to fall for that.
But even if it was a blatant lie, there was something seductive, even comforting, about the idea that there was someone out there made for Milo, someone who was a perfect fit. He’d had little luck with girlfriends. Dating a guy in the military made for an uncertain future, and what with his shifts, the remoteness of his detail…. Milo wasn’t a hookup kinda guy, but that was all there seemed to be on offer.
Maybe that was why the thought of having a mate appealed to him.
That didn’t make it true.
Once his mind started turning over the rumors, he couldn’t stop it. Insidious thoughts snuck into his dreams. He watched the inmates, searching for anything that might provide him with answers. Milo was always ready to act when he saw any signs of insurrection, escape planning, inmates congregating where they shouldn’t. Two or three attracted his attention—one in particular—and he resolved to keep a close eye on them.
His resolution shattered with the arrival of Jana.
“SIR? A new batch of inmates has arrived,” Coleman informed him. He handed Milo the tablet. “Thirty of them. They’re being processed right now.”
“Great. Let me know when they’re done.” Milo had a little speech he reserved for new arrivals. Mostly it was a warning.
Do as you’re told and there’ll be no problems.
Mess with us and we will mess you up.
Then he’d point to the towers around the perimeter, each topped with a lookout and equipped with guns. You see those guards up there? If none of my men down here spot you trying to escape, be sure they will, and they will shoot you dead.
He skimmed through the details of the newbies, searching for anything out of the ordinary. None of the names were accompanied by the logo of a hand with an eye across the palm—the icon designated for those rare shifters who possessed psychic ability. Because now the Gerans knew such shifters existed, you’d better believe they were searching for more of them.
A resource with unlimited potential, waiting to be tapped.
Milo made his rounds, walking the perimeter of the compound, his eyes ever watchful, his hand resting on his rifle, ready to react to any sign of danger. Not from the inmates, who were already beaten down when they arrived, but from the outside.
If the Fridans really have taken two camps already this year, then we need to be ready for any eventuality.
No one higher up had said as much—in writing, at any rate—but the word was out.
Be extra vigilant.
His earpiece burst into life. “Ready when you are, sir.”
Milo headed for the reeducation center, where the new arrivals were always taken after processing. Coleman and three other guards stood at the back of the main room, where inmates sat at tables, heads bowed, silent as the grave.
He walked to the front and faced them. The faces before him all seemed the same—tired, fearful, devoid of hope. That made his job easier.
He cleared his throat and launched into his speech. When he got to the part where he told them this was not some kind of extermination camp, he couldn’t miss their relieved expressions. He scanned each row of tables, searching for any potential troublemakers, but he found—
One face stopped him dead in his tracks.
Milo froze. What the fuck? He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.
She was maybe in her midtwenties, with long reddish-brown hair, tied back. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze lowered.
Milo couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he had no idea why. There was nothing out of the ordinary about her. Had they met before? He searched his memories and came to an unsatisfying conclusion.
I don’t know her.
Then why did some sense keep on insisting that he did?
He consulted his tablet, scrolling through until he found her. Jana Guzek, age twenty-four, originally from New Hampshire. He had to smile when he saw what kind of shifter she was. He didn’t think the Geran military would have much use for an otter.
Scrolling further, he noted this was her first internment.
He still couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. If anything, the feeling of being unable to look away from her was intensifying.
Move. Move now , goddammit.
Milo walked slowly along each row, making sure to make eye contact with every inmate, his heartbeat racing as he drew closer to her. When he reached Jana, Milo stood in front of her, waiting for her to raise her chin.
To see him.
The need for her to meet his gaze consumed him to the point of dizziness. Jana’s chin dipped toward her chest, but Milo wasn’t going to move on until he’d seen her eyes. Then her breathing hitched, and he froze once more.
Whatever the fuck was going on, she felt it too.
The room was silent, and he knew he was under scrutiny. He had to move on.
Milo continued along the rows before making his way to the front again.
“Some of the buildings in the compound are out of bounds to inmates. Get too close and—” He tapped his rifle. He didn’t need to say more. The implication was obvious. “Now you’ll be taken to your block. That’s where you’ll eat, sleep, and wash. When the weather permits, you can go outside.” He smiled. “Fresh air is good for you, after all.” He paused. “On occasions, some of you will also be taken to the breeding block. Don’t try to resist. If you do that, we have the capability to force you to comply, but it’s better for you if you simply follow instructions.”
One of the guards snickered. “Besides, why would you want to resist that? Only chance you’re gonna get to—”
Milo glared at him, and the guard clammed up.
I’ll deal with him later.
He returned his attention to the rows of inmates, doing his damnedest not to stare in Jana’s direction, but it was as if he was caught up in a web of invisible threads, their ends wrapped around her fingers, and she was tugging on them, pulling him toward her.
Who the fuck are you? What are you?
This was getting dangerous.
Milo straightened. “Okay, that’s all. If you obey the rules, your time here will run smoothly. You know what to expect if you don’t.” He nodded to Coleman, who barked out instructions, and the inmates stood, walking in quiet lines toward the door. Milo watched them file out, his heartbeat returning to its normal rhythm.
When the room was empty, Coleman approached him. Before Milo could say a word, Coleman sighed. “You want Hughes up on a charge? He should’ve kept his fat mouth shut. Again.”
“He knows the rules. No one talks to them except you or me. So yes, put him on a charge. And warn him what will happen the next time.” Milo smiled. “Because unless he’s a polar bear shifter, his nuts will freeze off in a heartbeat up there. Tell him if he doesn’t believe that to come see me. I should know, after all. I was stationed there.”
He didn’t need to expound on there . Everyone knew.
“I’ll remind him there are far worse compounds to be sent to.” Coleman cocked his head to one side. “Are you okay, sir? You seemed a little distracted.”
Milo huffed. “I’m overdue for some leave. That must be it.” Like about three months overdue. “I need to find someplace warm, preferably near an ocean, where I can unwind for a week or two.”
Coleman chuckled. “A week? Yeah, right. My last leave lasted three days.”
Milo patted his arm. “The benefits of rank, Coleman. Work your way up to captain and you too can get to enjoy them.” He walked out of the room, Coleman’s wry chuckle following him.
Outside, heavy clouds had blotted out the sun, and the air had grown chill. Milo strolled across the compound, taking his time.
Searching for her.
Don’t. Don’t.
The voice of reason was drowned out by another voice, one that clamored for him to find her. Milo scanned the inmates, searching for that reddish-brown hair, the short, slim figure.
And there she was, standing way too close to the perimeter fence.
He hurried over to her, his heart hammering. “You need to move away from there,” he called out as he got closer. “See the white line on the ground? Don’t cross it again.”
Except what he wanted to do was scream at her that she could get shot if she strayed too far.
She turned, and Milo got his first glimpse of warm green eyes that went perfectly with her creamy complexion. Jana stared at him, her chest rising and falling, her breathing as labored as his own.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
He frowned. “I’m Captain Milo Keppler. I just spoke to you all, remember?”
Jana shook her head. “That part I know. What I mean is who are you to me ?” She shivered. “Okay, this is weird. It’s… it’s as if I know you somehow, but I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
The sun chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds, bathing her features, making her face glow. And something deep inside Milo burst into life, a warmth he’d never known that crawled through him, then rushed through him, leaving his skin tingling and his heart pounding.
Holy fuck. Jana Guzek, who the hell are you?