Page 35

Alexiares

S an Jose, you son of a bitch. I’m coming for you. And for the price of stressing my general the fuck out, I promise not to be gentle.

Suckerpunch lurked at my side as we made our way through the abandoned streets of Los Gatos. It’d been a long fucking day. We’d pushed it on the whole daylight thing, but we needed to find a place to rest. My boy had done great. The two of us, out on the road alone, on a mission for our woman. I laughed to myself; Amaia does always say history repeats itself. At least this time, I was certain that I was irrevocably and unconditionally in love with her, and what we were doing was for a good cause. It was nice to be able to say that with confidence.

Sixty-two miles and a fifteen hour push with minimal stops for hydration, I wish I could make Suckerpunch a damn steak. And here I was thinking he’d turned into a lazy mush living a cushy life in Monterey. This was the first time he had a home to live in. Finley had refused to let him inside the house. Now he was clutching the ridiculous red squid Reina had made, refusing to leave it behind.

We passed by a faded sign: The Billy Jones Wildcat Railroad . I raised my hand, palm flat, then pointed two fingers at my eyes before sweeping them out toward him. It was a silent command we hadn’t used in far too long, sharp and precise: watch me . His massive frame went taut with controlled energy. His ears pitched forward, amber eyes scanning the world around us as I walked up to the ticket booth. In my experience, no one ever thought to hide out in them. In fact, places like this sat pretty much untouched since the fall of the world. But, just in case someone else had the same idea of a hideout, they provided an opportunity for a quick escape. Usually two windows and a door. At the front of all parks, it allowed you to hear and see before they hear or see you.

I kept my steps silent as I approached and my knife clutched tight in my hand. There used to be a peace in doing this shit alone. There was still a peace in a sense, from being away from responsibilities and always, always, some group of people. So less than twenty-four hours away from Amaia, going on this mission alone was … boring. Simply put, I’d rather be doing this with her .

No rush of adrenaline came with that first cautious peek inside a place before clearing the ticket booth. Settling in at night wasn’t the same without the soft curls tickling my chin or the sound of her breathing beside me. The absence of a racing heart at night while I pretended that closing my eyes was the same thing as sleep in case someone or something crept up in the darkness was monotonous. And walking the rest of the way to San Jose fending off small herds and stray Pansies gave me no real thrill. None of it mattered when the distance between us meant my eyes weren’t on her for the first time in eleven months. I had no way to make sure she was safe.

This mission would be over soon enough. I’d get back to her. And when we finally put all of this behind us, I couldn’t wait to make her mine—for good. For infinity.

Vegetation reclaimed the two miles leading up to the gate of San Jose. Since I had the best luck in the world, I ran into about fifteen escorts of Coverts army, laughing. Having the grandest of times. I grumbled a curse as I weaved behind abandoned cars on the sides of the street in the remnants of an old suburb. They were crowding around something that moved in front of them. By the giant pile of shit sitting at my feet, a horse led their caravan. The crowd of them broke revealing a group of women hunched over in the back of a cage. It was about six by six. Not large enough for the amount of people inside, as if people ever belonged in them.

I scratched the side of my head, wondering when the fuck I started caring about shit like that. This wasn’t my business. It was important to focus on the mission—but Amaia and the others had this whole empathy thing going on that was rubbing off.

Un-fucking-fortunately, this two-mile stretch was the only way into San Jose coming from the south. An intentional strategy Amaia had helped them develop that was now working against our interests. Now I was stuck behind them. Forced to move at their pace and not mine. They were in no rush to get back, not with these women in tow. My mind called on a memory from outside Montello a few months back.

Covert was going to auction them.

That’s what we’d seen. Watched as they were brought as a reward for soldiers who performed well. There wasn’t anything Amaia could do about it then, but damn had she wanted to.

With as many soldiers as there were, masking the sound of my steps wasn’t exactly top priority. Their attention was fixed on the girls—smirking, laughing, some leaning closer to the cages in order to get their hands on what they wanted through the iron bars. Getting closer didn’t scream out ‘risk’, not unless one of them turned around.

I crept nearer, straining to catch bits of their conversation. Anything useful. A hint of security changes, new patrol patterns—something Monterey hadn’t picked up on yet. But the closer I got, the more the reality of the situation sunk in.

The ‘women’ in the cages weren’t women at all.

The oldest might have been eighteen. And the youngest … My stomach twisted, bile rising at the back of my throat.

Sick bastards . Every single one of them.

“Malachai’s confident this batch’ll be better than the last. Said they put them in some suite before transport. I bet that made y’all feel real special, huh?” one of the soldiers said with a cruel chuckle. “ Dysentery . Thought that was some shit of the past. Wasted effort.”

“Seem to be prime breeding age too,” another chimed in, reaching through the bars to pinch one of the girls. She yelped and jerked away, her sobs growing louder, her shoulders shaking as snot dripped down her face.

“Gross,” another muttered, his nose wrinkling in disgust, though it didn’t stop him from watching.

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t move. Not yet. My fists itched to do something—anything—but I couldn’t risk blowing this before I had a chance to get inside. The fate of Salem Territory depended on it.

The oldest girl stepped forward, putting herself between the others and the soldiers. Something shifted in the hot, still, summer air. The wind picked up, tugging at the edges of the soldiers’ uniforms.

She wasn’t subtle about her focus. The one closest to her grabbed at his throat. His face turned red as he gasped, his lungs seemingly on the verge of collapse.

For a second, I thought she’d done it.

The caravan slowed, the others hesitating. Then, the bastard stopped coughing. He peered up with a grin stretching across his face as he straightened. The others caught on quickly, falling into hysterics as the girl froze, horror etched into her face.

“I keep telling you,” one of the soldiers said. “Your magic doesn’t work with the suppressant.”

The girl cowered slightly then straightened, her lips pressing into a tight line as the soldiers kept laughing.

“Looked like it worked just all right for a few seconds,” a smaller brunette said. Still tucked behind the oldest but her words were steady and bold. “Are you blind?”

The soldiers hesitated for a moment before one of them moved—a hulking brute with a sneer deep enough it could have been carved into his face. He didn’t bother with words, shoving his arm through the bars as if he had every right to without remorse. The girls screamed, scrambling back in a desperate tangle, but the brunette wasn’t fast enough. His hand closed around her arm, yanking her forward until she hit the cage with a sharp clang.

“Defiant one, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he sneered, his lips curling into something ugly. “Don’t worry, they’ll fuck that right out of you.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. No. Instead, she held her head up high—it pissed him off.

Some of the soldiers shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other with darting eyes, as though they weren’t sure if they should step away or laugh along. Others turned their backs, muttering under their breath. But most of them stayed planted right where they were, letting out low, guttural laughs.

The soldier who’d mentioned the suppressant earlier stepped forward. His tone remained flat, tinged with apathy, as though he couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “Give them another dose and call it a day. We’re almost back. You won’t have to see her again, so stop wasting our time. Some of us have families to get back to.”

The cage rattled softly as the brunette stumbled back, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Nah,” the brute said, his grip tightening as he leaned closer to the cage. “I’ll see her tonight. After she gets cleaned up.”

I thought my jaw might crack from how hard I clenched it, but I stayed hidden. Timing was everything.

The other soldier stepped closer, placing a hand on the brute’s shoulder, his grip firm. “Victor,” he snarled through his teeth, “would never waste her perfect genetics on a brute like you.”

The brute froze. They remained locked in a standoff as a flock of crows flew overhead. He let go of the girl. She stumbled back, her arm cradled to her chest, and the soldiers fell into silence. I took a moment to study them all. Memorize every face, every name I could catch, and every word they said.

Their time would come.

Upon closer inspection, a small detail on the uniform of the one who’d spoken up became apparent. Instead of the pouncing lion of Covert, a raven black as night sat on his lapel. Salem. Though his uniform was the same green and tan as Covert’s, the divide between allies was clear enough that they made sure to distinguish who was who.

The patch next to the raven was the same as Reina’s. A DNA helix. Scientist. It didn’t match the rest of the group—most wore the classic shield, their gear dirtied by time in the field. Two others, like him, didn’t fit. They were the same ones who were visibly uncomfortable earlier, their unease written across their faces.

The brute sniffed out a laugh, sharp and mocking, slicing through the heavy silence. Like trained dogs, the others followed suit. He held up his hands and backed off with exaggerated ease. “Ahh, I’m just inspiring a little fear. Take it easy,” he said, his grin stretching wide, the same sick satisfaction crawling across his face. He turned to the group, voice shifting to something almost friendly. “I could use a warm meal right about now. How ‘bout you, brothers?”

A few murmurs of agreement followed. The caravan groaned as it trudged down the dirt road. I kept my distance, the nausea twisting deeper inside me. Every laugh, every careless comment, every smirk—they all lingered, the scent of decay sticking to me, sinking under my skin.

It was too easy to off the idiot in the ‘watchtower.’ If this was what I was up against, tonight would be a walk on the beach. Or whatever the hell Reina always said. I pulled on his uniform and caught back up on the tail of the others. A reasonable, fair guess? I had maybe fifteen minutes before someone realized he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

The gate, a solid slab of concrete reminiscent of Monterey’s defenses, greeted me as I stepped into San Jose. The flow of soldiers and the caravan moved with such precise rhythm, such practiced ease, no one gave me a second glance. I kept my pace steady, moving with the rhythm of their steps, blending in as a shadow among them.

I followed. Watched. Took mental notes on where the caravan ended up. And made a promise to myself—I’d be back for those girls before anyone ever touched them.

Monsters lurk in the dark. Everyone knew that. It’s why fear trickles up your spine when there’s a spot that’s a bit too dark in your room or at the entrance to an alley. Demons exist and so do their hounds.

I leaned against the harsh stucco of a house as I lay in wait. The small path between houses was pitch black, making it a nice little opportunity to keep cover after the debacle I’d caused. No one had come to get him yet to my dismay. To warn him that the girls were loose. They were timid at first, not wanting to trust someone they deemed another man in a world full of cruelty. But at the opportunity of freedom the brunette and the oldest took the others and ran. I’d given them the option to wait for a few miles outside the gate. From there, I’d escort them a town over before they’d be left on their own. If I had to guess, the ones that successfully made it out, would not be there. I wouldn’t if I were them.

Finally, the patchy green door of the house across the street opened, and he walked out. He’d glanced around a few times then turned to lock his door. With a sickening little grin, he swept a hand through his peppered hair and smoothed down his clothes. The little pep in his step as he jogged down the steps made my skin fucking crawl.

I stepped out the alley way, Suckerpunch tucked low at my side. The movement put him on alert and his head went on a swivel. Our eyes met and recognition set in. Terror crept into his gray eyes as I closed the distance between us, the grin falling right off his face.

And as I suspected, Victor ran.

Of course he had. They always fucking did. I followed at a leisurely pace. The frantic shuffle of his boots and the slam of the door sliced through the calm San Jose night as he disappeared into his house.

“Knock, knock.” My boot connected with the door, sending it crashing open with enough force to make my entrance memorable. One step in, then another, slow and deliberate. The knife in my hand caught a sliver of moonlight through the window, its edge gleaming. I gave it a little twist, letting the light dance along the blade before pointing it at him. “Victor, right?”

He spat in my direction, a pathetic attempt at defiance as he shuffled backward. His hands fumbled against the table behind him, searching, desperate. For what, a weapon probably. Didn’t care. Wasn’t planning on letting him live long enough to find out.

“Not going to answer me?” I tilted my head, watching him the way a wolf watched its prey stumble. “That’s fine. Odd, though. A lieutenant general wandering around unarmed. Did you have plans tonight, Victor?” My laugh came low, sharp. Cruel. “I’m afraid you won’t be making them. None of you will.”

“This is how she wants to play, huh? So much for the fight Ronan promised. Send you out to do her dirty work? Pathetic.”

“I volunteered,” I said, my voice steady, almost conversational. My thoughts strayed from him, landing on the blade in my hand. Slowly, I pressed a fingertip against the tip of the knife, watching as a bead of blood welled up, bright and mesmerizing. “Though I must admit I expected a bit of a fight myself.”

The room had grown too quiet, save for his ragged breathing. I finally glanced up, letting the faintest smirk tug at my lips.

“I wouldn’t give you the pleasure,” he sneered.

“Oh. It’s always a pleasure.”

“You’re sick.”

“ I’m sick?” A clipped, harsh laugh broke free from my throat. “Me? The sick one.”

I stepped forward, the knife gleaming in my hand, the weight of it familiar and steady. Each step drew me closer until the space between us felt suffocating—for him, not for me.

“I look death in the face and feel nothing. San Jose made the wise choice in choosing Covert. What we’re building here will surround them with greatness—from the architecture and inventions, down to the people. I’d say you’ll see it, but … you’re on the losing side of this war. There will be no bending the knee here, Bloodhound . To die standing is to die with honor.”

I could no longer resist the urge. Lunging forward, I sliced across the back of his knees. Victor crumbled to the ground. Blood pooled beneath him but he clenched his teeth together, resisting the urge to release a cry. I crouched down to his level and pulled him close by the collar of his shirt.

“You have no honor,” I whispered, each word sharp and deliberate. “And I’m going to make this hurt, you sick, sick fuck.”

He tilted his head, staring back at me with empty, unflinching eyes. An unapologetic smile cracked across his tawny skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fury swelled in me, a familiar beast awakening within. My knife moved before I thought, cutting a deep line across his chest. Blood welled up, stark against his skin. The bastard didn’t even flinch.

“Those are children, ” I hissed.

“I. Don’t. Know. What. You’re. Talking. About.” His tone was flat, his stare unbroken.

My grip on the blade tightened as the heat of my anger warred with an unwelcome flicker of doubt. He didn’t deny it outright. His confusion felt too raw. Damn it. This was supposed to be simple. Kill him, make an example, move the fuck on.

But his words lingered, carving a small crack in my certainty. What if he wasn’t lying? What if there was something I didn’t see?

“Are there more?” It was a simple question.

His smile faltered, almost imperceptible, then slid back into place, a faint shadow of something shattered. “Perhaps,” Victor said, his voice soft, mocking. “You’re mistaken.”

His answer—or lack of one—nagged at me, sharp and unwelcome. A feeling I wasn’t sure how to explain presented as a crack in the armor I didn’t even want to admit existed.

I pressed the knife harder, focusing on the steel’s edge to silence it. “I know what I saw. What I heard.”

“Do you?” Victor’s tone dripped with condescension. “If you came across children, you saw only a sliver of the greater vision. They deserve care. Structure. A chance at life within a proper home.” The crisp pop of his p on proper made my jaw clench. “That’s all we’re doing—restoring order. Ensuring the right values are instilled in them. But of course, you’d find that wrong. The intelligence required to understand such a concept is clearly beyond your capability.”

I scoffed, my voice cutting. “Pardon my lack of subtlety, but, when do the breeding programs start?”

Victor didn’t flinch, his expression an infuriating mask of indifference. He stayed silent.

“Continue,” I snapped, leaning forward, letting the threat hang in the air.

He stared at me, unblinking, before smirking ever so faintly. “I think I’ve said enough.”

I took a step back, holstering the knife. My fingers twitched, magic simmering beneath my skin. Fire wasn’t necessarily as discreet as I was hoping given I still had two other stops to make. Then I made the call— fuck it. Closing the distance, I let the heat build.

“Torture won’t work on me, Bloodhound,” Victor said with a low chuckle. “A lieutenant general doesn’t rise in the ranks without surviving a few rounds. Ask your general. Oh, wait. One of those times was at your other wife’s hand. Remember that? Wrong time to ask your secret? It’s just one powerful piece of ass after the other. Though I must say, I prefer blon?—”

Before the words fully left his mouth, my knife was already in my hand, a blur of steel that moved with precision and finality. In one clean, deliberate stroke, the blade sliced deep into his throat. His flesh severed with a force that silenced him mid-taunt. I tilted my head back, releasing a low, orgasmic moan. Blood spilled in a hot rush, staining the air with the metallic tang of death.

I didn’t bother with the mess. Let it rot. That wasn’t my problem. Instead, I crouched by the body, fingers dipping into the still-warm blood pooling around him. They’d wanted everyone to know who had been here, who had done this. Fine. My name would be the first thing they’d see.

With deliberate strokes, I painted it onto the wall: Bloodreina + Bloodhound , finishing it off with a sharp, dripping heart. A cruel grin tugged at my lips. Let them choke on the irony.

Monterey would be ready to fight. The other settlements wouldn’t stand a chance. Amaia didn’t want to catch them off guard, but that wasn’t purely kindness. Their survival meant reinforcements down the line. If they fell, it’d just be fewer people left to wipe out Covert—and make no mistake, Covert needed to burn.

When the work was done, I moved to the next names on my list: the top two officers who’d fight to take Victor’s place. Amaia hadn’t asked for this, but she didn’t need to. I knew what had to be done. She could fight me on it later. It wouldn’t change the fact that I’d spared her another reason to hate herself. Her conscience didn’t have room for this—not in a war like this. Hesitation was a luxury none of us could afford, least of all her. I’d make the hard calls if it meant keeping her from breaking under the guilt.