Chapter 12
Ethan
Let me do the talking, she said.
Okay. Except Lyra wasn’t talking. Bahre and Quinn were staring like they expected a response to their greeting.
I was wondering what surreal version of hell we had just strolled into because this many aliens weren’t supposed to be here, on Earth, living in a hidden bunker that would be absolutely impossible for the Miami police force to take down without full military assistance.
This place had to be breaking intergalactic treaties or something.
They had no business being here where one of them could be captured by the Silver Scions, drugged, tortured and turned into a killing machine capable of tearing little girls in half.
That’s what these guys were, ticking time bombs. Walking death dealers.
Lyra could talk if she wanted to. I had nothing to say to these guys that wouldn’t start a fight.
Finally, it was Jenkins who spoke into the awkward silence, his gaze on the other Atlan, the one who had yet to speak. “You’re Warlord Egon. About to be on the next season of Bachelor Beast.”
The Atlan nodded. He was not wearing mating cuffs. “I am.”
I shot Jenkins a disgusted look. He shrugged. “I watch more TV than you. Keep up with pop culture, bro.”
I felt my frown all the way to my toes. I fucking hated television.
I’d rather pluck out my own eyeballs than watch the ridiculous dating show where the aliens fought to woo human females.
Claim their mates. Put their manacles on the women’s wrists and pound their chests like cavemen.
No thank you. There wasn’t enough whiskey in the world to make me watch that shit.
Jenkins, however, seemed to be enjoying himself because he just kept talking.
“Nice place. Seems more like a military base, than a home. How many fighters you keep around here? Ten? Twenty? Lasers outside. You got dogs, too?”
One of the hunters shook his head. “Don’t need ‘em.”
Okay. Whatever the fuck that meant.
“Let’s focus on the task at hand.” The tone of voice coming from the screen was one I recognized.
Command. The freak with the neon green eyes must be the big, bad alien in charge.
“Thanks to Lady Lyra’s successful retrieval of the Scion’s DNA, we have located their base of operations in what the humans call North America.
I have sent you all the precise coordinates as well as schematics of the building.
We were able to positively identify nine of their operatives based on recent memories stored in the Scion’s DNA. ”
“How the hell did they do that?” Jenkins leaned in to whisper to me.
I met his gaze and shrugged. Lyra told me they could. How? I had no idea.
The Prillon in charge kept right on talking like he was bored and had other things to do. “I want them all dead and DNA scans uploaded as soon as possible. I want their suppliers from Rogue 5, their shipping and transport routes, and the heads of every human who is helping them.”
“Hey,” I stepped forward and glared directly into the freakiest green eyes I’d ever seen. “No one said anything about killing humans.”
Warlord Egon growled and stomped toward me.
“You would protect them? Allow them to prey on your females and children?” He grumbled, his body growing larger as I realized he was fighting not to turn into his beast. “Weak fucking male. You should not be here.” His gaze drifted from me to Jenkins. Back. “Neither of you should be here.”
I happened to agree with him on both counts.
We shouldn’t be here and there had been more than one occasion in my line of work when I would have been happy to put a bullet in some of the evil people I’d encountered.
But I’d sworn to uphold the law, not dispense vigilante justice.
I was not going to help aliens kill human beings. Not fucking happening.
I stepped back and shoved Lyra behind me. “I agree. We’re leaving. Now.”
“Don’t touch her.” Warlord Egon glared at my hands, his voice deeper. Loud.
“Gods be damned, Egon. Get your beast under control.” Warlord Bahre turned to glare down at us. “Humans out. Lyra stays.”
“No.” I didn’t care how big he was, how fucking mean he was. Lyra was not staying here. Not while I was still breathing. “She comes with me.”
“She is under my protection,” Warlord Bahre insisted.
Fuck this guy. “No. She came with us. She leaves with us.” The declaration left my lips and I realized I meant it.
Damn me straight to hell, it was too late.
I was in love with her, willing to die to make sure she got out of here safely.
I didn’t care if she was a CIA officer, or that I’d only known her for a couple days.
I couldn’t walk away and leave her. Not here. Not with them. Not now. Not ever.
“What’s going on down there?” A sing-song, feminine voice called out from behind us in the corridor we’d just walked through.
A young woman wearing mating cuffs appeared with a friendly smile on her face.
She took in the room with a glance, completely unfazed.
Her eyes were bright and friendly and settled on Lyra.
“Sorry we’re late. Traffic was a nightmare.
” She beamed at the woman, Quinn, who smiled back. “How much chest pounding did I miss?”
“They’re just getting started,” Quinn laughed.
The new arrival sighed dramatically and turned to look at our little group. “Hi. I’m Adrian Davis. I’m mated to—”
Lyra’s neutral expression shifted as she glanced over Adrian’s shoulder to inspect the large Atlan Warlord on Adrian’s heels.
Lyra’s face paled and she shook her head, wrapping her arms around her waist as if she was in pain.
“Kovo?” Her shocked whisper put every nerve in my body on edge. She swayed, her entire body trembling.
I settled my hand at the small of her back to steady her and she clung to me. Gasped. Doubled over and wailed as if she’d just been stabbed through the heart with a sword.
“Lyra?” The hulking shadow materialized into an Atlan Warlord—the one she called Kovo?— as he stepped into the well-lit room, his attention focused on the woman who would already be on her knees if I wasn’t holding her up.
Lyra’s head snapped up and she stood slowly, as if every movement caused her pain, every muscle ached, every nerve misfired.
“Kovo. You’re dead.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper as if speaking any louder would break her open, the soft tone like a pressure valve for her pain.
“You’re dead. Reji’s dead. You’re both dead. ”
The huge Atlan walked right up to her—us—and dropped to one knee, his head bowed. “Lyra. Please forgive me. There was no other way.”
He lifted his face to Lyra as the woman who’d entered with him, Adrian, clasped her hands over her mouth, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched her mate kneel before another woman.
Every alien in the room was on his feet, surrounding Warlord Bahre, who had discreetly placed his mate, Quinn, behind him.
Jenkins and I had our backs to one wall, Lyra in front of us. Only the woman, Adrian, stood between us and the exit.
“Lyra?” I reached for her hand, but she shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Lyra turned away from the kneeling Atlan without touching him and walked toward the large screen where the Prillon watched with a level of calm detachment that indicated he was the only one who knew exactly what was happening.
“You!” Lyra’s outburst was deeper. Intense. The voice I’d only heard a handful of times when we’d been naked.
The male on the screen tilted his head and stared at her, no apology or regret that I could see on his face or in his freakish, neon green eyes. “I have been trying to get you to Earth for quite some time, my lady.”
“You should have told me!” Lyra screamed in rage at the Prillon.
“I contacted you within days of the execution. Told you to start your search on Earth.”
Execution? What execution? What were they talking about?
From his knees, Kovo reached out a hand. “Lyra, please.”
“What about Reji? Was that a lie, too?” Lyra yelled at the screen as she lurched forward, head down, long hair blocking my view of her face. She slammed one hand down on top of the conference table with a loud thud.
“My lady, I do not know the fate of Reji. Not yet.” The Prillon cleared his throat. “Doctor Mersan?”
The copper colored Prillon tilted his head, the smallest hint of regret in his dark eyes, unlike the cold, calculating stare of the commander. “We have received no communication from Warlord Reji for several months.”
“Months?” Lyra’s shout changed to a scream of rage.
“Months? He’s been dead for years. Kovo was executed in front of the entire Coalition, shamed for losing control and murdering his own brother!
” She lifted the conference table by its edge and upended the entire thing, threw it against the wall, taking an entire row of rolling chairs with it.
Tossed it aside like it was made of paper.
“You let me believe it! You let me grieve! Fucking liars! All of you! Gods. Damned. Fucking. LIARS!” She lifted one conference chair in each hand and threw them at the faces on the screen.
The chairs bounced off the surface without doing any damage, which seemed to enrage her further. She held her hands in fists at her sides as her chest heaved.
What the fuck was going on here?
“Lyra, please…” Kovo, still kneeling, held out a hand, begging for what? Forgiveness?
Lyra turned on her heel to stare at me. “Gods, Ethan. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you… I can’t… I can’t control her…”
Kovo was on his feet in a blink. He moved toward Lyra, but he was too late. I was already there, my arms around her, holding her steady. “Lyra. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”