Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
If that wasn’t a loaded question, he didn’t know what was—because the honest answer was, they needed the elder Lyric to pass, for her sake and for their own. When she did, there was going to be a new hell to get used to, but at least they would have the peace that came with her no longer trapped in that bed, wishing she could be doing the things she used to.
“No, thanks.” He cleared his throat, and got nowhere with the lump in it. “Lyric’s comfortable, and we’re just waiting for the inevitable. Not much to be done.”
“You sure you want to be here tonight?”
“Blay knows where to find me and wants me here. He’s well aware of what’s at stake because I’ve updated him on everything.”
The guy had insisted on talking about Whestmorel as dawn had arrived, as a matter of fact. Helluva change in subject from what was going down with his mahmen, but hey. Beggars, choosers, and all that bullcrap.
“He’s a male of worth,” Wrath said. “And so are you.”
There was a growl of approval that vibrated through the room, and Qhuinn resolutely stared at the travel mug until that passed.
As things quieted, Wrath nodded again, with obvious respect. Then he looked in V’s direction. “Now, you were saying.”
The brother stabbed out his cigarette on the tread of his shitkicker and put the butt in his back pocket. “Nothing. The ‘George’ lead went nowhere—and if Allhan can’t find anything on it, no one can.”
“And nobody’s come forward with a missing hellren, sire, or son.”
“No.”
“Sonofabitch.” The smile that stretched the King’s hard mouth was cold as the wind that prowled around outside. “My guess is that Whestmorel and his crew are sequestering, and they’ve told their families to wait it out—which is why there is no report of a missing male. That poor bastard we found fucked up somehow, so they couldn’t take him with them to whatever safe house they’re in because they no longer trusted him, and they sure as fuck couldn’t let him go. They left him alive in there to send a message to any others who might have doubts—”
The knocking that interrupted things was loud and insistent, and everybody had the same reaction. Guns were unholstered, unsafety’d, and brought up to be trained on the door that opened out into the civilian corridor—while at the same moment, Qhuinn, Rhage, and Phury closed ranks around Wrath to form a shield with their bodies. Meanwhile, as the King bent down and picked up his golden, the rest of the Brotherhood and the Band of Bastards formed a second circle, an outer rim of aggression, between the ruler and the door.
With the defensive positions set, Vishous checked the security feeds on his phone, his brows drawing tightly together and distorting the tattoos at the corner of his eye. “What the hell—”
Pounding now, on the door. “Hello! Help!”
Per protocol, the trapdoor beneath Wrath’s chair sprung. As the lowering began, Qhuinn and the other two stepped in tighter on the descending platform.
“Help! We need help!” came the muffled cry on the far side.
* * *
The next thing Lyric knew, she was back in her physical form, and the first sensation that properly registered—beyond the fact that she had weight on her bones again and pressure on her feet—was the cold. The bitter, biting cold.
She rubbed her eyes and looked around in confusion. She was outside in the snow, standing in front of an enormous, double-sided barn door, and for a moment, she couldn’t place where—
The left half of the panels opened and someone all but ran her over as they burst out in a full-on bolt.
“Hey!” she barked as she got spun around.
The male, who was only in a t-shirt and blue jeans, just kept going, gunning for the back of the—
Audience House. She was at the Audience House, and standing in front of Four Toys Headquarters, the seat of all the security monitoring and IT—
Shouting voices from inside urged her up to the open doorway, and she frowned as she looked inside. The workstations laden with computer monitors and equipment were all vacated, people having jumped up out of their chairs or knocked them over as they clambered for something deeper inside the building.
Lyric hesitated on the threshold, intimidated by all the important work that was done here. Vishous was in charge of the security and monitoring of the King, the Brotherhood, and all their properties, but also so much more. This was definitely not her place to hang around—
One of her feet stretched forward without her willing it to do so, and the other followed right behind. The next thing she knew she was walking down the center aisle between all the desks, wondering what in the hell she was doing here—
Abruptly, her body cut through the lineup and zeroed in on the far corner. That was when she saw the drama. There was a group of males and females clustered around something on the floor, all the way against the barn’s rear wall—