Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rhett
“You want her to read his mind?” I say slowly.
“Yes,” Woodrow says. “Cohen knows a lot about their operations, and we need it all.”
“No.”
“No?” He raises a brow and turns to the man at his side.
Victor Brach has a presence. He keeps his profile in the middle of the pack and doesn’t draw attention. But beyond the spotlight of his role on the ruling council, Victor secretly pulls a lot of strings.
Lucian shifts where he sits beside me.
“The infamous hacker, also known as the Gecko, and his criminal mastermind brother, who owns half my city,” Victor Brach growls. “Tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you both.”
“I’ve got nothing,” Lucian says. He’s wearing his usual business suit paired with a black shirt today. No one would suspect he grew up in poverty on that hellhole, Lyus. “I’m sure you were always planning on donating your net wealth to a gecko sanctuary…” He trails off.
“I always have a contingency,” I offer, smirking.
I’m dressed a little less formally than Lucian, in a dress shirt and pants, but it’s still a far cry from my usual attire.
What can I say? I have a mate now, and she gets a little hot and squirmy—for reasons that escape me—when I put some effort in and dress nicely.
She also gets hot and squirmy when I dress nice and then slip back into just a pair of sweats, so, you know, I like to mix things up.
The communicator on Brach’s desk beeps.
Victor glances down, and his face turns an unhealthy shade of purple.
“Maybe we can skip the pissing contest,” Woodrow interjects dryly.
“Everyone in this room has power and suffers no qualms about using it. No one doubts your ability to transfer Governor Brach’s liquid assets to your gecko sanctuary.
” His expression hardens. “Just as no one doubts we can have a dozen black operatives storm Lucian’s fortress-like tower and whisk your mates away. ”
Cold sweeps down my spine. Lucian growls.
Woodrow is not bluffing. His smile is cool.
I tap my wrist device. Governor Brach’s desk communicator beeps. He glances down, and some of the purple color leaves his face.
I have some of Larissa’s mind-reading traits, but not her depth of skill. We’ve already established that Cohen is the master of projecting false information. The bastard made a game of it with Larissa. Although she always saw through it, the sick son of a bitch enjoyed taunting her.
The thought of the creep doing that to her again makes my stomach churn, and my alpha instincts go on a rampage.
But I also know she has ten years of experience on me.
If I read him wrong, the results could be catastrophic.
I want to take this burden on for her. The bottom line—I can’t. “I don’t want her near that freak.”
“Understood,” Woodrow says smoothly. “But we all want to win this goddamned war. And your mate can help. Maybe we could ask her opinion on this.”
Bastard. He knows she will want to help.
Larissa
They want me to help them interrogate Cohen. I knew this was coming, but when Rhett and Lucian returned from their meeting with the Empire’s power player and told me, it still landed like a blow.
I don’t want to see him again. Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn and cold dread sweep down my spine.
“You don’t have to,” Rhett says. “They gave their word that this was your decision. No repercussions. You’ve already given enough.”
“I need to think.”
He lets me, not pressing the matter, and I love him even more for that.
I’ve done a lot of healing since I escaped the Uncorrupted.
Another layer of the terrible weight was lifted from me when Cohen was secured.
Yet, I have a long way to go. So many demons, and so much guilt.
A part of me feels I deserve to have to see Cohan again—that it’s part of my dues and but a small price to pay for being free.
But I also want to help, if I can. And it seems such a trivial thing, really, when you consider how long I spent with him.
To touch his mind once more and provide our military with the answers they need to help them.
And maybe through this, omegas, dynamics of every flavor, and even those who are non-dynamic and just want a better life, might be safer for the small burden that I must bear.
I know Rhett can read my mind just as I can read his.
But we are bonded now, and even without that gift, our moods reflect upon each other.
He gives me the strength to be braver. I like the quietness he represents and the way, when we’re alone, he can shut the door to his mind.
It offers me a respite when I follow old patterns and subconsciously look, because I so often had to do so to survive.
He centers me and reminds me that I am no longer under the weight of the Uncorrupted… that I am blessedly free.
He is still agoraphobic. There is no magic fix to that, just as there is no magic fix to the demons who wait for me in my dreams.
Neither of us can fix our past or what was broken, but we can move forward with something better, we hope, together.
And I find I love him just a little more when he battles his fears to come with me. With the decision made, we slip into an undisclosed vehicle through one of Lucian’s secret exits.
From there, we are whisked to a secret government facility where the former Uncorrupted general is languishing. Rhett’s hand is reassuring in mine as we are escorted into a briefing room, where we meet with Woodrow Brock, who introduces us to Interrogation Specialist Peters.
Peters provides us with some necessary background on what to expect and the line of questioning they will take today.
I had already told them about the Uncorrupted’s techniques when they captured our alphas, how they weakened their bodies before questioning them while I read their minds.
They have done all that to Cohen and more.
“He has changed,” Peters says. “From what you will remember. The virus latched despite his prior failures. He is now an alpha... There will be some visible bruising, too, as you might expect.”
“What if he realizes?” I ask. “What if he becomes suspicious that someone is reading his mind? The prisoners always thought they were losing their minds. He will recognize the signs.”
“We have a plan for that,” Peters says. “And would implicate your mate. Cohen is being kept in isolation. That will never change, and even if he suspected you were still alive, it would never get out. But we believe it’s the best course if he thinks Rhett is the one reading his mind.
We know Rhett cannot match your skills presently, but Cohen doesn’t.
Given that he aspired to acquire your gifts through bonding with you, he will readily believe this.
He also might be less inclined to direct personal attacks via his thought patterns, something we definitely want to avoid. ”
“Yes, we do,” Rhett says. “I’m on board with that. Let the fucker think it’s me.”
“Good then,” Peters says. “Any more concerns or questions?”
I hesitate. It’s not just about reading anymore. Ever since that moment in the tunnels, I’m aware of another side to my gift. I haven’t told them. No one knows except Rhett. What if I push when I mean to pull? What if I project instead of listening?
Rhett’s hand squeezes over mine. You’ve got this. I believe in you. But this goes without saying, you can’t let anyone know about the other side of your gift. Don’t want to give the bastards any reason to hang onto you. You owe them nothing.
“I’m ready,” I say.
We’re taken from the briefing room into an operations room.
Monitors fill the walls. A dozen workstations where analysts and experts are ready.
They will be assessing every word that passes Cohen’s lips, along with what I tell them, analyzing his body language and reviewing the system’s interpretations.
The monitors show a stark room with a table and two chairs facing each other. It is currently empty. Soon, Cohen will be brought in.
“I’m told you can work from an adjoining room,” Peters says. “Would this be to your requirements?”
He indicates a small seating area to one side of the operations room. It offers clear views of all the monitors. There is also a camera directed at it. To record me and everything I say. I understand why they’re doing this, but it still makes me nervous.
“Yes,” I say, offering a wobbly smile for Peters and Rhett. “This will work.”
“Whatever you feel comfortable with,” Peters repeats.
He motions for a woman to come and join us.
She takes a seat nearby. “We’ll take it slowly.
You can call a rest at any time.” He indicates a young beta woman in a sharp suit.
“Agent Wilson is a specialist on this project. She can answer any questions you may have while I’m in the other room, call a halt to the proceedings, if necessary, that kind of thing.
” He offers me and Rhett ear pods and slips one into his own ear.
“I’ll be able to hear everything you say. We will also be monitoring you for stress. If we feel it necessary, we can likewise call a halt. As can your mate.”
“You good, baby?” Rhett asks, his worried eyes on mine.
They’re all being so kind and gentle with me. Cohen never gave me any such care or respect. I want to do this. He deserves to have me do this. I focus on the outcome; on the difference this can make. “Yes. Let’s begin.”
There are two seats, but Rhett doesn’t give me an option. He sits, before tugging me into his lap with a set to his jaw that says this isn’t open to negotiation.
“Want me to purr, baby?”
I nod, choked up. “Yes, but quietly. So it won’t interfere with whatever I pick up.”
“No problem.” His touch is light and comforting. It provides a buffer.
Seeing me settled and ready, Peters leaves the room.
The sound is amplified through my earpiece as I hear him enter the interrogation room. Shortly after the door opens again. I hear the shuffle of footsteps and a faint clank.