Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
The two rolled back into view, Keja’s face a mask of red from her broken nose, one side of Theo’s face already slick red and swelling.
Yakov’s bear raged inside his skin—he directed all that energy into his hand, into the infinitesimal crawling movement that had him touching the spot below his T-shirt that held the holster he’d altered in the kitchen that morning, cutting away the part of it designed to cushion the button in order to avoid accidental detonation.
He nudged up the T-shirt just as Keja twisted away and when she came up in a crouch across from Theo, she had the knife once more in hand. “I didn’t want to do this to you,” she said, her voice bloody and wet. “I wanted to give you a gentler death. But this’ll do as well.”
She slashed out with the blade, and it became obvious that she had the advantage. Theo had managed to grab her own knife—but her hand was too bloody and it slipped out of her grasp.
Keja swiped at her again as Theo tried to retrieve it—and got Theo on the hand, scarlet dripping to the floor. Theo slipped while scrambling backward, and fell hard, hitting her head . . . just as Yakov’s fingers brushed the on button.
The sound bomb wasn’t a precision device and would knock them all out, but Yakov would fall last and recover the fastest. The weapon was designed to advantage changelings. Yakov pushed the button as an eerily silent Keja jumped on a dazed Theo, her blade aimed at Theo’s throat.
It should have worked. It should have dropped her then and there.
But Keja was a Tk in a blinding rage induced by an operation that had altered her neural structure. A Tk with just enough power to “throw” her weapon right before the sound wave reached her.
The blade sliced across Theo’s throat before it spun away.
Time seemed to move in slow motion, blood pulsing over Theo’s hands as her eyes met his.
No.
No one was going to hurt his Theo ever again!
He refused to let go.
Yakov reached and saw her lift one bloodred hand toward him as the sound wave crashed into all their brains with thunderous force. Theo! It was his last thought before the world went scarlet.
Then.
Nothing.
Chapter 64
Urgent request for contact from Alpha Nikolaev.
—Note passed to Silver Mercant during her live worldwide address to members of EmNet (now)
MIDWAY THROUGH A dead run to get into a clan vehicle and drive out to the old Psy facility, while others went to check the apartment and Valentin tried another avenue, Pavel fell to his knees, his hands clamped over his ears as his head vibrated with a massive boom.
On the other side of the world, Pax woke out of a troubled sleep with an echoing emptiness in his head. Theo!
In the heart of Moscow, a slender Psy male with eyes an extraordinary hue between silver and blue collapsed against the wall of a building, his entire being flooded with a fear so deep it hurt.
As the phone chimed and chimed on the other end with no result, Valentin felt the bond he shared with one of his seconds blaze hot red.
Yasha was dying.
Chapter 65
D, I’m sorry for taking so long to reply.
The truth is, I miscalculated my ability to handle continued communication from you. I cried from missing you while reading the article you sent, and Neiza saw me. She’s still so young, her mind so malleable. She was sad for me, when it’s my duty to teach her not to feel emotion at all.
I don’t think that Silence can ever teach me not to love you. That bond is too deep in my heart. But I have to learn not to live that love. I have to learn to let you go.
This will be the last time I ever send you a communication. Please help me protect my baby from her own powerful mind by never again contacting me. This, big brother, is the last thing your little sister will ever ask of you.
Good-bye, D.
Hien
—Letter from Hien Nguyen to Déwei Nguyen (2 April 1982)
PAX JUMPED INTO action.
He couldn’t reach Theo with his mind. So he’d go to her. Never again would he stand by helpless while someone tried to separate them.
Teleport. Now! A telepathic order barked at the very expensive teleport-capable Tk he’d hired on a personal contract. At 7.9 on the Gradient, Octavio had no doubt been part of a Council unit at some point, but he was now an independent. His head might be shaved but he was no clean-cut soldier these days. Tattoos snaked up his arms and along the back of one leg, and he’d grown a beard thick and dark.
The most important thing about Octavio was that he had zero interest in politics or playing shadow games. “Had too much of that in my past” had been his clipped answer during their interview.