The Psy-Changeling Series, Books 6-10 (197 page)

Putting aside the sander, he dusted off his hands and picked up a piece of toast. Neither of them spoke until he’d finished. “They’re both skilled individuals,” he said at last. “There’s no reason for anything to go wrong.”

The knot in her stomach unfurled at the realization that he wasn’t going to make this hard. She was the one who’d walked way . . . but she’d regretted her decision every hour since. She’d
missed
him. No other man came close to creating the depth of feeling in her that Walker did with a simple look, a simple word.

Faced with that indisputable conclusion, she’d canceled all future dates. It wasn’t fair. Not to her and not to the males.

Instead, she’d looked hard at her relationship with Walker—not just what he’d said to her, but what he’d
done
. Quiet, reserved Walker Lauren, who rarely spoke to anyone, had come to her night after night, trusted her with things she was becoming certain no one else knew. Not only that, but he’d cared for her in that same quiet way. Maybe the words were the truth and his actions an inadvertent lie, but Lara had made the decision to see this through to the end.

Never did she want to look back and wonder. Because he mattered.
So much.
Enough that she was willing to take the biggest risk of her life and continue this friendship that was nothing so simple. “You’ll worry all the same though,” she said. “He’s your baby brother, and she might as well be your daughter.”

Pale green eyes widened the tiniest fraction. “Judd would be startled to hear himself described in such a way.”

Laughing at the unusual show of emotion, she stole a sip of his coffee before passing it over. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Agreed.” He took a long drink before placing the mug beside the plate and reaching to cup her jaw. “You’re more rested.”

Her skin burned where he touched it. “Yes.”

“I’m glad.” Running his thumb over her chin, he dropped his hand. “Talk to me.”

As he worked, she did exactly that, keeping his mind from dwelling on the truth that two people he loved were in danger. When he touched her now and then, whether it was an accidental brush or a deliberate act as he helped her perch up on the bench, she quelled the urge to demand more.

This man, he was worth waiting for.

Lying flat on the earth on a moonless, starless night far from home, the air thin, the mountains unfamiliar, Sienna kept Hawke’s final words close. He’d kissed her. Held her. Shared an important part of his past. Not only that, but he’d sent her on this mission, accepting that she wasn’t just another young soldier, but an X-Psy honed in the coldest fire.

Finally, he
saw
her.

Wolves who lost their mates never mated again. It was once, and it was for life. Did it matter?
Yes.
Maybe it was selfish, but she wanted Hawke to be hers, to see home in her eyes as she saw it in his.

Thoughts switching to martial mode at the psychic alarm, she rose up out of the grass after ensuring the area was clear and made her way on silent feet to the first target. She’d been good at this as Ming’s trainee, but she’d become even better in the years since. With Ming, she’d relied as much as possible on her psychic abilities, while in SnowDancer, she’d had to maintain iron control over those same abilities.

That discipline came in use tonight.

She was invisible to the psychic senses of the guards. She knew that because Judd had tested her shields—and been surprised enough by their efficacy to ask her how she’d done it. When she’d shown him, he’d remodulated his own shields to match hers.

Corralling the whisper of memory, she completed her task and crossed over to the shadow of the second warehouse to duck into a small recess. A second later, she froze as the sentry turned the corner to head toward her, right on schedule. At least here, she didn’t have to worry about being betrayed by her scent; changelings had a real advantage there.

It struck her that that might be why Ming was trying to track her. Because though she hadn’t said so to anyone yet, gut instinct kept circling around to the suspicion that it was
Ming
who’d been behind the four Tks on SnowDancer land, not Henry. Henry had no reason to recognize the distinctive psychic signature of an X. Ming, however, would only need to take a single look at any report to know. He’d consider her a treasure trove of information about the SnowDancers. Which she was.

Moving at the internal command, she slipped out as the sentry disappeared from sight once more, laid the second charge, and was hidden behind another building before he returned. She wanted to telepath Judd, check he was safe, but they’d decided on telepathic silence except in an emergency.

Being able to detect telepathic communications in progress was so close to impossible that most people accepted it as such. But there were a rare few Psy who could pick up the faint psychic energy exuded during the act. Oddly enough, she’d had her first experience of it with a non-Psy. Lucas apparently had Psy DNA in his ancestry and could always detect psychic activity in his vicinity, telepathic and otherwise.

With that mental note, she shifted to sector 8. Judd had sectors 1 through 6, all more heavily trafficked than the sectors he’d assigned her. It made sense, since he could teleport in and out—plus, he’d been an Arrow. Sienna knew her own strengths. She also knew that Judd could snap her neck and she’d never see it coming.

HAWKE
decided to get the hell out of the surveillance room when eventempered Brenna almost snarled, “They’re maintaining radio silence. We won’t hear anything unless they’re in trouble.”

Realizing he was agitating her wolf, he touched the back of his hand to her cheek and got out of her way, knowing she’d contact him the instant she had something to report. But there was no way he could sit and wait—shifting into wolf form, he headed out into the cold, clear night. As he ran, greeting his packmates in passing, he considered the information Cooper had sent through earlier that day.

“I’ve got rumors of weapons moving down into the wider Bay Area.” The lieutenant’s jaw had been a brutal line. “They’ve learned, Hawke. They’re dodging our regular traps—it fucking frustrates me that we haven’t been able to find or halt a shipment.”

It frustrated Hawke, too, but part of him had always known this day would come. It wasn’t just the people the Council had lost to the changelings, it was what those defections had done to the perceived power of the Council
and
of the packs. SnowDancer and DarkRiver were no longer seen as dumb animals but as serious threats.

Switching direction after passing through Sing-Liu’s patch, the human soldier calling out a hello, Hawke crossed the border into DarkRiver territory. The two packs had free passage over each other’s land, but still, it felt different being away from his own. He was spotted at once since he’d made no attempt to conceal his presence.

To his surprise, the leopard male who saw him signaled for him to stop. Sides heaving from the run though he could go for miles yet without pausing, Hawke walked to stand a couple of feet from the man. The wolf recognized this male’s scent, identified it as that of Sentinel Clay Bennett.

“I tried to call you earlier,” Clay said in lieu of a greeting. “The Rats found something.”

Hawke cocked his head.

“Weapons components in the city’s storm water system, so no way to know their exact origin. But,” he added, “Rats were able to use a map of the system to figure out that the pieces must’ve come from somewhere around SoMa. Maybe one of the old converted warehouses that have been shut up for maintenance.”

Hawke’s wolf considered that, permitting the human part of him to come to the forefront. Unlike other changelings who’d let the wolf have control for extended periods, Hawke had never been in danger of losing his humanity. His wolf had taken charge when he’d needed it to as a youth, helping him make decisions the boy had been too young to make, but it had withdrawn as soon as Hawke found his feet.

The animal had a very black-and-white view of life, didn’t understand the games played in the human world. It understood face-to-face combat, understood killing to survive, to defend. It did not understand killing for political gain. The human, however, had lived through a massacre, comprehended the darkest of motivations all too well.

“I’ve got the Rats doing some more sneaking tonight,” Clay continued.

“No one ever notices them. Tomorrow, I figured we’d meet up, work out a plan for the rest. I’m thinking we should utilize the youngsters—the novices who look like teenagers.”

Clever, Hawke thought. Teens were universally ignored, they were such a ubiquitous sight in their noisy groups. Giving a crisp nod, he stepped back, leaving the sentinel to his post and allowing his wolf to rise to the surface once more. He saw several more leopards as he went deeper into DarkRiver land. A couple of the youths even ran with him, trying to outpace an alpha. The wolf laughed husky and deep as it let them play before continuing on his way, leaving them winded and tired.

He covered miles and miles and miles.

But not for one instant did he forget that Sienna was on the most lethal of playing fields.

 

 

SIENNA
tripped.
No, no, no!

Twisting her body with an awkwardness that went against Indigo’s teachings, she fell hard. Something snapped, and she was pretty certain it was a rib. The pain was a stabbing shock, but she’d evaded the searchlight sweeping over the area.

Sucking in a quiet, pained breath, she rose and did a quick physical check to confirm she hadn’t injured anything vital. Everything was functional—except that breathing had become difficult. Taking an extra minute and reworking her mental countdown to compensate for it, she divorced the pain from her conscious mind.

It was a military trick and could prove dangerous if utilized with a severe injury, as the mind would ignore the cues sent by the body—however, it was the perfect solution to a broken rib. That done, she inspected the explosive components in her pack to verify their undamaged state, then continued on her way, silent as a wolf in the forest. She was two steps from the edge of a building that should’ve been empty according to their recon, when everything went wrong.

The door swung open.

She froze behind it, unable to see through the metal to the individual on the other side. But she could hear him . . . them.

“How many tonight?”

“Fifteen.”

“It’s happening slower than I’d like.”

“We can’t move too fast or they’ll detect us.”

“Yes.” A pause. “It’s reached this point because of the weak ones on the Council.”

“We won’t have to worry about them much longer.”

One of the speakers—a tall, black woman—stepped out and began to close the door. Sienna held her breath, so motionless as to be a statue as the door was pulled shut from the inside. The woman checked something on a small organizer, began to turn.

Another second and she’d see Sienna.

Throat dry, she flexed her telepathic fingers in anticipation of a strike.

 

 

HAWKE
looked over Brenna’s shoulder the next morning. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He’d kept his distance after returning from the run, busying himself drafting a list of novices who could work the warehouse district, and briefing them on the task, but it was way past time for Judd and Sienna to have checked in.