Page 20 of Protector (Alpha Ties)

TWENTY

AX2

Officer Welsh nods. “We strongly suspect as much. Which is why we are the ones conducting this interview—not the people in your direct chain of command.”

She is silent for a long moment, gaze fixed on a point on the smooth table between them. Eventually, adopting a monotone, she says, “He’d been told I’d be difficult to tame. He’d seen a picture of me, and he’d read my PhD thesis. And…” She sucks in a breath, as if the memory comes to her from the fog, and clutches AX2’s thigh harder. “One time… he said… the West likes to claim superiority in all things, but you would never find a Comrade selling their own. ”

She’s trembling by his side, calm exterior cracking as the dark reality seems to fully set in. She was given to be abused and broken by people who know her. People she’s seen. Talked to. Perhaps even trusted.

He should feel no empathy for her. What was done to her is no worse than what she’s inflicted on him. And yet…

Swallowing a curse, AX2 lets his hand find hers on top of his thigh and squeezes her fingers.

“Who is it?” Despite its shakiness, there’s still bite in her voice. “You must be suspecting someone. Who?”

Welsh watches her for a moment, a sliver of sympathy in his otherwise shrewd eyes. Then he turns his attention to AX2. “Could you describe the circumstances with which you were tasked with Dr. Thompson’s extraction?”

“General Thompson gave me the order,” he says, not oblivious to the officer’s lack of response to the doctor. “He said the Russians had kidnapped his daughter, that he’d located her whereabouts, and that I was to save her no matter the cost.”

“And were you aware that his orders were not standard procedure for a hostage situation involving a government employee with Dr. Thompson’s security level?”

“I was.”

Officer Welsh makes a couple of notes on his pad before he looks back up at AX2. “Did he give any indication why he chose you specifically for this mission, rather than one of the other AX models?”

“He said I was the best he had.”

Another scribbled note. “Is that true, Dr. Thompson? To your knowledge, is Mr. Thompson the best option your father would have at his disposal for a rescue mission? Is he qualified above the rest of the AX class?”

She is silent for a long moment. “No. The AX class is largely homogenous on physical skills. There would be no advantage in selecting AX2 specifically.”

Welsh flicks his notepad backward a few pages, eyebrows raising a quarter inch. “You say there’s no difference in their physical capabilities… Perhaps he had another reason to pick Mr. Thompson specifically to save you? That business with AX1 three years ago?—”

“That’s classified!” she snaps, glancing quickly in AX2’s direction for the first time since they’ve entered this room. Her hand jolts underneath his, retreating from his thigh.

The officer looks from her to AX2, then back again. “He doesn’t remember?”

“As I said, it’s classified,” she all but snarls, and there’s more than a little of her former self in her demeanor as she spears Welsh with her steely gaze. “What has this got to do with my kidnapping?”

The urge to ask what they’re talking about burns his esophagus, and it’s only his merciless training that keeps him biting his tongue. What business with AX1 would make the general pick AX2 out of the group to rescue his monster of a daughter?

As far as he’d assumed, AX1—the prototype from which he and those that came after were crafted—is long dead, much like every other missing number between he and the other handful of AX soldiers he’d met.

But that phrasing, he doesn’t remember … That indicates he’d at least been alive while AX2 was far enough along in his creation process for their paths to plausibly cross.

He stares at the woman by his side. Always with the scheming and the secrecy. She kept the existence of his other AX brothers from him for three years. What else is she hiding?

Officer Welsh’s shrewd eyes linger on them for a long breath, and AX2 has the distinct sensation that he’s picking up on the unspoken tension between them.

“We’ve seen a rather unfortunate tendency from the Russians in the past few months, when it comes to female prisoners of special interest.” His eyes flick to the bandage on her neck. “Mate her to a brute, then sit back and wait for him to fuck her into complete obedience. Real barbaric stuff—as you well know—but also effective. Entirely against the Geneva Conventions, of course, but that’s not a major concern to the regime over there.

“Especially since they know no one’s going to breathe a word of this. How many women operatives would we have left, if they knew they risked a lifetime as a mated slave the second they cross a Russian? The CIA would be out of female field agents within a week. So… we’ve said nothing. To no one. As far as we are aware, there are—not counting you two and the unfortunate number women we’ve lost to this practice, of course—a total of nine people within the entirety of the U.S. agencies and military branches with this knowledge.”

She stares at him, face frozen with icy calm, but in their bond, AX2 feels numb dread spreading through her. “Your theory, then, is that my father knew about these practices? By clandestine means? My father— a three-star general. One of the most highly respected men in the entirety of the military.”

Welsh simply nods.

“And you’re basing this preposterous idea solely on the choice he made when picking a soldier for the extraction?”

“Well, no. Not solely. But it is a convenient part of a larger puzzle.” The officer looks to AX2. “Tell me, what compelled you to claim your mate?”

“I ordered him to do it,” she snaps before AX2 can answer. “He has no choice but to obey my commands.”

A small flicker dances at the corner of Welsh’s mouth, and AX2 gets the sense he’s amused at the woman’s stubbornness. “Please walk me through the scenario, Mr. Thompson. When did you decide on making her yours?”

AX2 frowns. There’s an implication under all of this that he isn’t grasping. Something to do with the Incident with AX1? It’s maddening—his gut tells him that whatever she’s hiding, it’s important. “My orders were to save her, no matter the cost. I found her with a mate-claim to the alpha I killed to get to her, dying.”

The vivid image of her bruised body and unfocused, tear-stricken eyes as she knelt on that mattress flashes through his brain. He remembers putting his gun to her forehead and the urgency to pull the trigger. His inability to follow through.

“Claiming her was the only way to obey orders,” he finishes.

“Hmm,” Officer Welsh hums. He turns the pen between his fingers, then jabs the tip against the paper. “And did you think of this before or after her command?”

“Before.” By his side, he feels her quietly seething. Why, he doesn’t know. His answer is truthful, as she is well-aware.

“Ah,” Welsh says, flicking his gaze back to the doctor. “As I suspected.”

“It means nothing,” she hisses. “And even if it did, it proves nothing. What other basis do you have for doubting my father’s loyalty? What could possibly possess the NSA to suspect a man who’s dedicated his entire life to serving his country of… of what, exactly? Underhanded dealings?”

“We know the identity of the man who took you from your apartment,” Welsh says quietly. “When they were both privates, he and your father served together. We’ve interviewed their old sergeant—they were close friends at the time.”

She sucks in a sharp breath—shock. Then she shakes her head. “Nothing more than coincidence. He’s not responsible for the vile acts of past acquaintances. You want me to believe—what? That my own father sold me to the Russians?”

“No. We believe he relied on an old friend, who then betrayed him for personal gain.” Welsh sits back in his chair, both palms resting on the desk, pen still between his fingers. “We have for some time been aware of rumblings within the belly of the government. Whispers, really. Seemingly unconnected disappearances, data breaches… Never enough to pinpoint any exact plans, nor the players. Not until you were taken, and General Thompson sent the only man capable of saving you from the Russians’ new favorite trick in gaining a female’s compliance.”

“I’m telling you, AX2 was as good a choice as any of the others,” she grits. “You’re staking a whole goddamn conspiracy theory on this… this nonsense.”

“You and I both know it’s not nonsense. And so does General Thompson. But let’s entertain for a moment the idea that that’s all he knew. However he came about the information on what happens to a woman who falls into Russian hands, it took him three days from you were taken until he did something about it.”

“We had an argument,” she says, voice still icy, yet if AX2’s not mistaken, there’s a note of hesitance beneath the frost. “He was giving me space and would not have realized I was missing for a few days.”

“You know your father better than that, Dr. Thompson. Do you honestly think he would let his only daughter be without surveillance? He’s an old school alpha—very firm on those he sees as his responsibility, but absolutely devoted to their safety. It’s a quality that’s served him well on the battlefield and as he rose through the ranks. There is no scenario where he wouldn’t have known you were gone for three whole days.”

Officer Welsh tilts his head as he looks at her. “Once he popped on our radar, we traced back his comings and goings. Nothing at all amiss… except from the day he sent AX2 to extract you. The very first thing he did was drive to a warehouse by the river. We have him on speed cameras along the route, and it’s where he was pinged as logging into the satellite surveillance that let him track your abductors to the airfield and across the globe.

“Your father knew you were taken the moment it happened, Dr. Thompson. And he knew where you were supposed to be.”