Enraged, knowing she couldn’t bear the walls closing in on her, she turned and made her way from her apartment and into the darkness.
Where secrets hid.
...
The haunting, hollow cry of the young woman hiding in the apartment across from the sheltered copse of trees and the shadows where he hid had Dane grimacing with regret.
She was one of his greatest failures, he thought regretfully. Her brother was his greatest. How in God’s name had he not been able to anticipate the betrayal that killed Mark McQuade, and in nine years of searching, why hadn’t he found the bastard who had betrayed the young man and allowed that child to carry the blame?
It haunted him, knowing that whoever had turned McQuade’s identity over to the Genetics Council wasn’t the Coyote Breed who had died for it, though he had been no less guilty. The man who had destroyed that child’s life had gotten away clean, at least for now.
Dane stared at the apartment, aching for the loss he hadn’t been able to stop as a shadow shifted at the side of the building, then disappeared.
Remaining silent, Dane caught sight of the warrior again seconds later, moving toward him. He watched as his contact paused and removed the thin painted mask he wore before folding it and shoving it into his pocket.
His lips quirked at the thought of that mask. It had been fooling humans and Breeds alike for decades. It was a creation of the first Leo’s, and one whose workings Dane had been unable to figure out to this day.
Removing a cigar from his pocket and bringing it to his lips, he then handed one to the Breed standing against the tree beside him.
Lighting the cigar, Dane then handed the lighter to the Coyote as well, waited as he lit his own, then accepted it back and pocketed it.
“The two of you are going to piss me off.” The warrior moved over to them, glaring at them irately.
Pulling another cigar free of his pocket, Dane handed it to the newcomer before watching him use his own lighter to ignite it.
“How’s she doing?” Dane nodded to the apartment as the warrior exhaled, irritation inherent in the sound.
“That has to be the most stubborn damn woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he bit out, grinding his teeth over the words. “She’s been at this nine years now and has no intention of letting up. I thought you said that bastard who was all over her ass tonight was her mate?”
Dane couldn’t help but smile. “He’s her mate, I assure you.” He did nothing to hide the heavy South African accent he carried.
“Yeah, that’s why she’s up there trying to figure out how to learn who’s betrayed the Unknown when she’s staring at the bastard who did the betraying.”
Dane stared at the warrior, knowing far more about him than he was sure the man would find comfortable.
“All for the greater good, my friend,” Dog drawled with a curious lack of accent. “We can’t have a traitor in the ranks.”
“Using her like this doesn’t sit well with me,” the warrior informed them, not for the first time. “And what the hell kind of mating was that anyway? Why is she up there by herself screaming like her soul is being cut out, if he’s her mate? And ignoring the question’s not going to make it go away, Dane.”
No, this—warrior—was more stubborn than most. He wouldn’t stop looking for an answer if he thought Dane was deliberately not answering him.
“I’m not certain yet why the mating didn’t occur,” he answered, his gaze returning to the apartment thoughtfully. “I am entirely certain, though, that she’s his mate.”