Chapter 2
Chapter Two
KILLIAN
My tight boots chafed my feet, the same shoes I was issued in prison. Věrh?za followed me, mocked me, continued to torture me, reminding me of all the things I’d like to forget. The scars would forever mark me. Figuratively and liter-ally.
I paced up and down the length of the table, a headache throbbing between my brows.
A constant weight pinned down on my shoulders as I tried to keep everything afloat.
To fight every battle coming at us, to pretend I was all right in the face of it, to keep morale and hope going when everything seemed bleak.
“There has to be another way of finding this lab. Destroying it before Istvan can do any more damage.” Mykel peered around the room.
The dark circles under his eyes showed he was feeling the weight as well.
I couldn’t say I disliked him, but I could say I would like him a hell of a lot better if he were back in Prague.
There were enough alphas and dominants in this room.
And he kept forgetting—this was my country. My people.
The loss of his base, his people, the fight for survival for his own country, for peace, started here. I understood that. It didn’t mean I had to like him being on my ass every day.
“We could send spies to Kyiv,” Mykel added, rubbing at his dark beard, his light brown eyes staring off in thought.
There were moments—a gesture, a look—when I could see the resemblance to Brexley, feeling like a stab in my gut.
A stubbornness and determination in their expressions.
I had never met Benet, Brexley’s father, but heard Mykel looked very much like him.
We barely talked about her. Her presence was no less here, though. All the time. The massive elephant in the room we all tried to pretend wasn’t. But we all felt her absence, the sting of her disappearance. The hurt and anger from what she did.
“No.” I shook my head. “We don’t have the extra people to send up there on a wild goose chase.
Ukraine is heavily guarded and monitored.
” Ivanenko, the Ukrainian leader, had first been put in by Russia to be his puppet after the fall of the Otherworld.
Istvan, seeing an opportunity to overtake a weak leader, had done just that.
There was no doubt with Olena carrying Istvan’s child, it was Markos ruling that country now.
“Then what do you suggest?” Mykel tossed out his arms. “We sneak into HDF and break into his safe?”
“Yes.” I pressed my hands together, tapping them against my mouth. “That is exactly what we do.”
“I know the place the best and the code to the safe. I can do it.” Caden stepped closer to the table.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Warwick growled, his head shaking. “You don’t think you’d be recognized before you even got to the gate? You are one of the most well-known people out there. Your face was on magazines and banners.”
“Now they say most wanted underneath,” Scorpion huffed from the other side of the table.
“I agree with Warwick.” That had to be a fucking first. “You can’t go anywhere near HDF.
We need someone who can blend in with the soldiers.
Play the part and go undetected. And isn’t known at all to any HDF soldier.
Especially as an enemy.” I nodded around the room.
“Which means almost all of you are out.”
“I can do it.” A woman’s voice came from the doorway, her accent wrapping around my balls like a fist, squeezing. Instantly my shoulders slammed back, my head rising in defense as I swung around, ire already flaring my nose as I looked upon the human.
Red hair waving past her shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a curvy figure, though a lot of that had been lost due to the horrendous conditions in Věrh?za.
Even under the cargo pants and sweater, you couldn’t hide her sexual impact.
There were small things that told you she was human, imperfections, if you looked hard enough, showing the burdens of life she had carried and gone through.
Fatigue streaked her face. But there wasn’t a person, fae or human, who could say she was not breathtakingly stunning.
Rosie had this presence, like she had on stage when I saw her years ago as Nina Petrov, the young ingenue flouncing onstage.
Seeing her perform had made something in my chest tighten, take notice, remember her years later.
The play was horrendous; however, something about her had me returning to see it again.
That was before I got to know her. Humans were fragile, weaker, but she was a mix of softness and firecracker, which unsettled me. Her sharp tongue and stubbornness compelled me to scream or punch walls.
“No.” My voice was sharp, my authority saturating the room with just a word.
“Excuse me?” She folded her arms under her breasts, her blue eyes narrowing in on mine.
“I said no.”
“You said no?” She repeated my statement with a mocking tone.
Her English accent had become part of her, even though she wasn’t British.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were my father and I was still twelve.
” Rosie stepped farther into the room. “You said you needed someone who could play the part, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Anyone else here train in Stanislavski’s method acting teachings? Can carry a whole play almost by themselves?”
“I saw it. It wasn’t that great.”
Rosie’s chest puffed up, anger blushing her porcelain cheeks scarlet.
“I think she’d be perfect. She’s human, which fits in there.
Trained to fool people.” Birdie motioned to her, a glint of mischievousness in her eyes directed at me.
“Why not? Don’t tell me you have a problem with her being a girl, since fae aren’t sexist, right?
Or is it because she’s human? That makes you racist.”
“I didn’t say anything like that.” For the first time in a long time, my words floundered, and I felt my face heating, Birdie’s mouth twitching like she knew something I didn’t. “That is not why.”
“Then why?” Rosie tilted her head, and I whipped my head between the two women, feeling like I was walking into a sand trap. “I know you can’t imagine me as more than a common whore.”
My spine stiffened, her claim slashing across my chest. “I never said or thought that.” My voice went low. Angry. Rosie’s breath hitched, her gaze going to the side. “If something went wrong, you have not been trained to fight. That is what I am saying.”
“I’ll go with her.” Scorpion leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table.
“There is absolutely no way she is going in.” I shook my head vehemently.
“You either.” I wiggled my hand at Scorpion.
Besides Warwick, Scorpion probably stood out the most. Covered in tattoos, piercings along his brow, oozing “fuck the norm” attitude.
He would stand out at HDF like a red in a sea of beige.
Rosie licked her lip, her gaze going down to the floor. I could sense her anger and frustration. “Whatever you say, Lord Killian.” Though she meant it to be derogatory, my spine heated as the title fell from her lips, my dick hardening at her insolent tone, fury rolling my hands into fists.
I turned away, sucking in long breaths of air. What the hell was my problem? She was a human. Not at all worth my energy. Why did she irritate me so much?
“I came up here to tell you . . . we are out of painkillers and rubbing alcohol.” Her voice still wrapped around me like a rope, forcing me to turn and look at her again. “And we are almost out of coffee.”
“Whoaaa—whoa.” Birdie held her hands up. “That should have been the first thing you told us.”
Rosie and others had been put to work in the healing room we converted downstairs.
Many were still battling the effects of the prison or nearly died fighting outside it.
And daily, we had injuries from those going out on missions, unskilled fighters training for combat, or humans coming down with the flu.
It had only been two weeks, and we were still struggling to find our feet and get this place functioning like clockwork.
I nodded my head. “I will send someone to the market.”
Rosie pinched her lips, dipped her head back, and marched out, leaving a whiff of her shampoo in her wake.
“Sending her is not a terrible idea.” Mykel’s voice snapped me back, realizing I was still staring at the spot she left.
“No, it’s a horrendous idea.” I reacted instantly. “She totally stands out. Her hair is distracting.” Her figure, her crystal blue eyes, her mouth.
“She can dye it. Or tuck it up in a hat.” Mykel shrugged.
“She knows nothing of HDF. Where to go. How to get in.” I heard myself. The defensiveness of my claims was way too much, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “How to act like a soldier.”
“She’s an actress. They can pretend.” Birdie continued to smirk, her hip leaning into Scorpion’s chair. “You seem so adamant about her not going in. Why is that?”
I blinked at Birdie, my mouth opening in response, nothing coming out.
“If we are doing this. What we really need, for whoever goes in, are earpieces. Then Caden could walk them through each step.” Mykel thankfully took me away from Birdie, returning to the topic.
Mykel lost everything in the bombing. He was carrying so much grief and guilt for not being there.
All the children, people, his world, were taken in a moment, along with all his weapons and grade-A military devices smuggled from the Unified Nations.
All of it was gone. I had lost everything as well.
“Now that’s something I can do.” Scorpion clunked his feet back on the ground, rising. “Got connections in low places. Give me a couple of days.”
I dipped my chin in response as he strolled for the exit.
“Head to the market while you’re out. Take backup,” I yelled at his retreating frame, his hand waving in recognition. At one time, I would not take disrespect like that, but times had changed.
I had changed. Though I knew I wasn’t the man they wanted here.
Andris’s absence was like a ghost constantly hanging about, but no one spoke of him.
I could feel his people’s resentment in every decision I made as leader, their knee-jerk reaction to buck against me, to tell me to fuck off.
Once I had been looked upon as more enemy than ally.
Now we were forced to come together, and I was their temporary leader, along with Mykel.
Intuitionally, I understood if Brexley was here, they would follow her word as his. Or maybe they would just follow her. She had that quality—someone who was just born to lead. A common attribute we recognized in each other.
I fought. I bled. I killed. I sacrificed. I became Lord Killian by sheer will. I would not be a low-life ruffian ever again.
“Anya!” Caden yelped as Rebeka swayed, bumping into a chair. He grabbed her arm to keep her upright, Mykel leaping for her other arm.
“I’m fine.” Rebeka tried to reassure them but failed miserably.
“You must rest.” Mykel looked down at her with concern.
“Let’s all take a break. Reconvene here tomorrow.” I stated, suddenly exhausted and irritable myself. Everyone quickly responded in agreement, heading for the door.
“Farkas?” I called out, stopping Warwick. He curved slightly back, waiting for everyone to disperse.
“I just wanted to know . . . if you had sensed or gotten anything from—”
“No.” His jaw clenched, fury flaming in his eyes, the single note vibrating the floor. Warwick’s lip lifted as he turned, stomping out the exit.
“Always so loquacious,” I huffed, leaning over the table on my hands, letting my head drop.
I had to give it to Brexley. Her pull was so strong, not only did she have many of us willing to fight and die for her, but she had the most ruthless legend in the world bending at the knee.
He was only here because she’d want him to be. To fight and protect this city.
Without her influence, did I think for a moment Warwick Farkas would be mulling around here, going out on missions, and finding us supplies? Fuck no.
“Brexley, where the hell are you?” I muttered, invoking power into her name, hoping she’d somehow hear me. Feel the pull back to us.
She had caused so much damage and death. Beyond anything anyone, including Tad, could have predicted. Her magic was raw and powerful. The stuff of legends. We called Warwick the legend, when I think it had been her the whole time.
As powerful as she was, the nectar was far more dangerous and unstable.
With it, she had killed the oldest and most powerful Druid who ever lived.
I felt the dark magic coming off his dead body, a hint that she and the nectar didn’t just hold the power of a Seelie queen and her family, but they held the remains of black magic.
Brexley Kovacs had become the most wanted woman in the Eastern bloc. And the very item she had with her was equivalent, if not more, to the four treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann. I couldn’t deny I still coveted it. Desired that kind of power. Craved it.
And utterly terrified of myself if I obtained it.
The tension in my head pounded behind my eyes, my hands shaking. Fae healed quickly on the outside, but we didn’t heal any faster than humans on the inside. I had not slept more than a few hours since our escape from the prison.
Nightmares plagued me, cutting deep into my chest, waking me up screaming, drenched in sweat.
I had been through a lot in my time, seen and done things most couldn’t fathom.
But the horrors of Věrh?za, what nobody saw, the impact of wearing iron daily had taken a toll.
I had to hide my shaking hands, my panic attacks, the dark voices in my head still calling for me to end it all.
As a leader, you could never show your weakness. Never show how scared and unsure you were. I could display nothing but strength and command.
While underneath, I was losing control.