Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Rhett
General Cohen. Ten years of torment wrapped in one smug face.
The fury that engulfed me when that non-dynamic prick put his hands on my mate is nothing compared to the rage that swallows me now.
This man made her life a misery. Used and abused something that should have been precious. Death is too good for him. I want to peel the skin from his body and dismember him, a piece at a time until his heart gives out.
But I want to do it slowly. Maybe I’ll take ten years to do it. It only seems fair.
“Kill him,” Cohen snarls, eyes locked on me.
Try it, motherfucker.
I shouldn’t be able to move like this, but rage fuels me, every nerve on fire as I break free from the non-dynamics holding my arms, lower my head, and barrel into Cohen.
He’s weak. His skin gleams with sweat, veins bulging along his neck.
His eyes are unfocused, his whole body twitching like something is tearing him apart from the inside.
He’s dosed himself with the real virus, and he’s mid-transition.
It makes him vulnerable, even as his body gains unnatural strength.
My fingers wrap around his throat and squeeze. My wrists are cuffed together in front of me, so it’s awkward, but I’m fucking determined. I’m sure the government has plans for him, but too bad if I kill the fucker first.
Larissa screams from my left, but I have tunnel vision: I need to take this asshole out. Can’t let him touch her. Can’t let him hurt her again.
Distantly, I’m aware of a scuffle going on around me, of shouts and screams, and bullets pinging into the walls. Both sets of doors are wide open and yet more people surge into the room.
I’m ripped from Cohen and flung against the wall. My skull cracks against the concrete, and it takes me a moment to get the spinning under control. Then my heart slams against my ribs as an alpha in black body armor storms past from my right and lifts his gun.
The shot cracks. Larissa jerks backward, blood shoots in scarlet arcs across the wall and floor.
“That’s for my mate,” Ethan snarls. Someone tackles him to the ground.
NO!
She’s not moving.
I want to fucking end him, but I only have eyes for my mate. I stagger to my feet, head still ringing and vision blurred, and drop to my knees beside her. I drag her into my arms, tip my head back, and roar.
She still doesn’t move.
Her mind is… quiet. Too quiet. My bond scrabbles for her and finds only silence where she should be.
My mind is full of white noise and mania. “No, no, no.” My hands are frantic as I try to find the source of the bleeding, like I might stem the flow.
A hand touches my shoulder and my head whips around. Lucian is standing beside me in full tactical combat gear. I blink up at him, stupefied, gulping deep breaths. My face is wet. So are my hands, covered in her blood.
Ethan roars. On the edge of my peripheral vision, I see him get zapped, and he slumps before they manhandle him out.
“We need to go, Rhett,” Lucian says.
I drag her limp body closer. Go? A terrible, hoarse sound leaves my throat before I can frame words. “Help me,” I beg. “Help me!”
“She’s gone, Rhett. You know she’s gone.”
Scuffles follow. The non-dynamics are cuffed and bundled out in a blur of movement. Ahead of me, Cohen is shouting incoherently, spittle flying from his mouth, like Larissa was his fucking mate.
I begin to shake. It feels like my body is rupturing.
“We need to move,” Lucian repeats, gently. “Bring her.”
Yes. I need to take her out of here. Take her home, back to her nest. She loved that nest. She’ll want to go there.
I stagger up, her weight slack in my arms, blind to everything but the need to get her home.
Five hours earlier…
“You want to shoot my mate.”
Ethan shrugs. “Usually, I picture strangling her. But that won’t work as well…”
A savage snarl rips out of me before I can stop it.
“Steady,” Lucian murmurs to my right. “Let’s hear him out.”
“Yes,” Ethan continues. “Shooting is more practical. A single round to the center of the chest—”
“It’s not an actual bullet,” Zeb steps in, as if sensing I’m about to launch myself across the table and rip Ethan Black’s head off.
Not that I could, barehanded. But I’m prepared to give it a fucking try.
“She would be wearing an armored vest,” Zeb says. “It disperses the impact. Minimal bruising. Just enough to knock her backward. It will look dramatic. A sensor-triggered blood bag will burst. At the same instant, a chemical release would effectively leave her insentient.”
“Nobody’s drugging my mate.” My teeth grind. “Nobody touches her. And… minimal fucking bruising? Really?!”
“Rhett, please.” She places a hand on my arm. “I want to hear what they have to say.”
“We’ve used this technique before,” Woodrow says. “When we need individuals to disappear off the radar. Otherwise Larissa will always be a target. Ordinary freedom is off the table. Her value is too great. You know that.”
“That isn’t much of a choice. You’re telling her she has to be a prisoner here or somewhere else.”
“She’s also your mate,” Woodrow points out baldly. “The two of you cannot be apart, even for short periods of time. What would freedom even look like for her when you’re agoraphobic?”
“And whose fucking fault is that?” Lucian growls.
“Not mine,” Woodrow says smoothly. “But that does not change the facts.”
The motherfucker is right. I don’t like it. And it fucking breaks me to think of Larissa being locked down because of me.
“I want to do this,” she says firmly, “And as for going out into the big, wide world? It’s been too long, and I’ve changed.
The thought of living in a secure facility, being moved around from location to location, always watching my back?
No, thank you. It is what it is. From the moment my gift was revealed, this has been my lot.
If this works, I disappear. I get to be here, with you.
And if not, at least I won’t be with the Uncorrupted. ”
Her pretty eyes hold mine—the tension thumping at the base of my skull doesn’t ease. I just want her to be happy and safe, but that doesn’t mean I have to like the only option put on the goddamned table.
“I know he wants to kill her for real,” I say bluntly, pinning Ethan with a look before turning my glare to Woodrow. “You trust him? Why Ethan? Why can’t someone else shoot her? Let me do it.”
“Don’t be a complete idiot,” Ethan says. “You think you can just shoot her? Even knowing it’s a dud? No fucking way. You’ll bottle it at the last moment. Then it’ll all be for nothing.”
“You still want her fucking dead!”
“That’s true,” he says, not even flinching—bastard. “But wanting somebody dead and killing them are two very different things.”
“He’s done this before,” Woodrow says.
“He has impressively steady nerves under pressure,” Zeb adds. “It’s important he hits the right spot. Also, and most importantly, Ethan has a reason to want to kill her, unlike the rest of us. Nobody would believe you wanted to shoot your own mate.”
“A couple of the non-dynamics we capture will be released—the ones we see as the least threat,” Woodrow says.
“Word will soon spread that Larissa Olsen was killed. With Cohen there, the Uncorrupted will have a trusted, verified witness of her death. Ethan will be stood down from active duty. Officially. But given his mate is Governor Brach’s daughter, no charges will stick.
A light punishment is a believable cover. ”
My eyes lower back to Larissa’s. I’d burn the world down for this woman, and I wouldn’t lose any sleep.
“Rhett, Ethan could have killed me a dozen times. If he’d really wanted to, he wouldn’t have waited until now,” Larissa says. “Besides, he would upset Lilly if he killed me.”
Ethan growls at that.
I couldn’t give a fuck about his feelings. All I care about is Larissa and what she wants—a chance. I blow out a breath. “This is crazy.”
I catch a smirk on Zeb’s lips. “The best operations are. We’re all experienced in this. We’ll get this done. We’ll give you the break you need. Both of you. You have my word.”
Strangely, unlike my reactions to Woodrow and Ethan, I trust Zeb.
Lucian’s gaze is steady. He understands the risk but is able to be more objective than me. I know he thinks this is our one shot to get both the government and the Uncorrupted off our backs.
I nod. “Let’s do this.”