Chapter 33 | Kincade #2
I knew she’d want to see the file the second we arrived back at the cabin.
And there was no way I was going to be able to hide the information about the Munich complex from her.
Silas had warned me—thought it would demoralize her to know killing Vormund wouldn’t stop the program.
But she’d find it anyway and then she’d be furious I kept it from her.
There was no winning. The last thing I wanted was her wrath.
She was already going to be mad when I tried to talk her out of stepping into the open.
It reminded me too much of when she decided to draw out Lucifer, using herself as bait on that battlefield. That had been destiny. This wasn’t. And that was the difference.
I’d already paid the price of watching her die.
I wasn’t prepared to pay it twice.
I tossed the folder in the center of the dining table. She pounced on it instantly, sitting at the table. When she flipped it open, she paused to examine the full dossier. I knew what it said already, but she was memorizing it. Filing it away.
“His academic work was considered ethically controversial even before his recruitment.” Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Did you read that?”
“I did.”
He held a PhD in Neurocognitive Engineering, an MD in Experimental Neurology, and advanced certifications in behavioral conditioning and neural mapping.
“This is disgusting,” she said. Then read aloud, “Objective is to develop adaptive operatives capable of independent judgment while remaining neurologically conditioned to respond predictably under stress.”
Her gaze dropped to the next line. “Subject exceeded predicted resilience thresholds.” She inhaled a quick, sharp breath. “Is that me? I think that’s me.”
Her voice hitched. Her pupils started to dilate.
This was about to be a trigger. And it was only adding fuel to her fire. I reached for her, took her hands in mine, gave them a light squeeze. She startled, looked up, the black receding instantly. She blinked, then she winced. The pain caught up to her.
“All this is doing is making you angrier,” I said. Tone even and calm.
“You’re damn right it is. He ruined my mother and me and—”
“I know,” I said softly.
Her breathing hitched again. I tightened my grip enough to keep her grounded.
She blew out a breath. “Okay. You’re right. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is he dies by my hand.”
She sat back in the chair, pulling her hands free and placing them in her lap. I watched her carefully.
“I’m all right,” she said.
She was still staring at the contents of the folder when she said, “That facility needs to be leveled.”
“One step at a time,” I said, taking the chair next to her.
I pulled the folder toward me, flipping through pages until I reached what mattered. The floor plan of that building, guard rotation, everything. Silas was always thorough.
“You’re not walking through the front door,” I said.
“Yes, I am.” Her voice was hard, even.
When I glanced up, her expression told me she wasn’t interested in negotiation. She wasn’t going to bend on this one. Pushing harder would only make her dig in. I adjusted instead.
“You’re trying to stop me,” she snapped.
“No, I’m trying to keep you alive,” I said.
She huffed, folded her arms across her chest.
I exhaled. She wasn’t backing down. Fine. If she was doing this, we’d do it smart.
I studied the floor plan and found Vormund’s office. Second level, northwest corner of the two-story building. I pushed the page toward her, tapping it.
“There’s his office.”
She leaned closer. “Corner office. Naturally. Pompous ass.”
I tried not to smile. “Elevators are centrally located.” I traced the diagram. “But the stairs are here—closer to his office.”
“Easy access,” she mused.
“Better than getting trapped in an elevator.”
She shuddered. “Yeah. I have history. Let’s not do that.” Her gaze moved from the stairs to the office, already mapping distance. “But for this to work, he has to be in there.”
“We’ll need surveillance,” I said. “Figure out his routine.”
She brightened. “Like a stakeout?”
“Yes,” I said.
“All right, so we figure that out and plan when to go in,” she said. “Then level the building after he’s dead.”
I lifted a brow. “And how are we supposed to do that?”
“RPG. C4. Whatever.”
I stared at her. “And where do we get any of those?”
She shrugged, clearly not thinking this through yet.
“Also,” she added, as if the thought occurred to her, “it will destroy all his research. Right?”
I shifted in the chair, thinking about what Silas told me about Munich. Not all his research would be in this small lab. She noticed and sat straighter.
“You know something you’re not telling me,” she said.
I was going to have to tell her sooner or later. “The Knights have a new state-of-the-art headquarters they’re about to open in Munich.”
She stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. Then, “Son of a bitch! This is like trying to cut the head off a hydra.”
“I suspect that headquarters building will house research and development,” I said.
I wasn’t prepared to tell her Vormund was planning to launch more experiments. At least, not yet.
Her mind was working. Her face impassive. And she was angry. “So, what I destroyed in Iskenderun had no effect.”
“Well,” I said, “it did get his attention.”
She had a satisfied smile. “All right, so we keep an eye on him and figure out when to strike. And then…?”
I sighed. “I’ll see what weapons of mass destruction I can get my hands on.”
“You’re so good to me.”
I gave her a pointed look. “And you’ll owe me.”
She rose from the table. “You can take it out in flesh.”
And then she laughed as she walked away.
For fuck’s sake. She was going to be the death of me.