Chapter 36

The only way to make our confidential data absolutely secure is to ring-fence it. No network connections of any kind. It will, however, make it impossible to work in the cloud or remotely.

—Excerpted from brief by Lily Knight to Human Alliance security

“I HAVE NO information on your vanished,” Bo said, holding the other man’s impenetrable gaze, “but I’ve had it verified that Alliance Fleet ships have gone where they shouldn’t have gone.”

Malachai raised an eyebrow. “It began before your coma, just took Hugo’s detective work to put together all the scattered pieces of data.”

“I’m not going to try to avoid the responsibility—it’s mine.” Bowen had accepted that duty when he took the reins of the Alliance. “I’m working on getting to the root of why the ships were in your waters. I won’t condemn any of my people without irrefutable proof.”

Malachai said nothing for long seconds, the two of them locked in a silent battle—not for supremacy, but for something deeper. “What do you know about Hugo’s dossier?” Mal asked at last.

“He took aim at what he called our ‘paramilitary arm.’” Kaia didn’t speak like that, so it had been obvious to Bo that she was echoing Hugo’s term. “You have to know that’s bullshit.”

“Rest of it isn’t so easy to disregard.”

“No, the Fleet movements happened. I can’t tell you why yet, but I will.”

“Kaia didn’t tell you anything else? I’ve had reports you two have become close.”

Stabbed by the cold blade of unexpected betrayal, Bo nonetheless kept his expression neutral. “No, that’s all I have.”

A slight shake of Malachai’s head. “If you get angry at a woman who knows how to keep a promise, you’re not worth her.” Removing a small organizer from his pocket, he said, “I asked Kaia to keep quiet about this while I had our techs check its authenticity.”

Bo shoved his hands through his hair. “You’re right.” That vivid punch of betrayal had been a knee-jerk reaction. It was the envy that ran deep. Malachai had Kaia’s loyalty; Bo wanted the same . . . but loyalty took time to grow.

He could give her his devotion, but he couldn’t demand her own.

“Show me.”

Malachai turned the screen in his direction.

Horror curdled his stomach. “Confirmed as authentic?”

“Beyond any doubt. Two of our vanished.”

Malachai didn’t have to point out that the two badly beaten and bloody—likely dead—changelings were on the deck of an Alliance Fleet ship. The name was only partially obscured and the Alliance brand obvious. “This is the Quiet Wind.” The smallest ship in the fleet, but one that could move like quicksilver. “Needs minimal crew and is normally used to transport delicate goods that require personal care.”

“Minimal crew means fewer people who can talk.”

Bo nodded before raising his eyes to Malachai’s. “I need you to let me run this.”

“My people are dying.”

“Neither humanity nor BlackSea can afford to be in a war. We’re stronger together, but apart and enemies, we’ll devastate both our peoples.”

Malachai slipped his organizer back into a pocket. “Agreed,” he said, then gave a slight smile. “You have such passion in you, Bo. I truly hope I don’t have to hurt you.”

“I will clean my house.” It was a promise to himself as much as a statement to Mal. “But to do that, I need to know certain things. Such as how Hugo got the information about our future plans for a major shipping line. Did one of my people pass it on?”

Malachai shook his head. “Hugo was in comms before he was taken. Brilliant, would probably be head of the team if he wasn’t also a slacker when he could get away with it.” Turning with Bo to face the water again, he continued on. “He’s also addicted to poker, plays in dedicated high-stakes online clubs.”

“He met someone through there.”

“Didn’t name that person, but said the individual was human. The last time Hugo was in Venice, they met up and ended up drunk together—and the human player said something about the shipping line.” Malachai’s eyes were translucent pale gold when he looked at Bowen again. “He got a bad feeling about it, began to dig, cross-referenced hundreds of minor reports about ship movements, and managed to hack into the Alliance’s shipping records.”

Bo stilled deep within. The Alliance’s shipping records weren’t on a hackable system—they were totally isolated from any outside network, with the backups kept in another isolated location. Hugo would’ve had to be in the data room inside Alliance HQ to get the information. “He did the hacking from here?”

Malachai took the question as Bowen had meant him to take it. “Signal to and from Ryūjin can get problematic. He did it from Lantia.”

Lantia.

The massive BlackSea city located in the North Atlantic Ocean.

Whether it was the city above Ryūjin or not made no difference. Because nothing changed the fact that Hugo had told a lie. He couldn’t have hacked the Alliance’s shipping records from Lantia. It was a physical and computronic impossibility. So how had he gotten his hands on the data?

And if a man could tell one lie, was he capable of telling a far more brutal one?

Chapter 37

I need your help to pull off a covert operation.

—Bowen Knight to Scott Reineke

DINNER WAS ALL set up and under way, Malachai gone. He’d made time to visit Kaia and update her on the search for Hugo: “Nothing. No sign of him.”

Smashing out her anger and worry on harmless avocados had gotten the clan an extra helping of guacamole, and then she’d gone ahead and made them fresh corn chips. She’d made so much food, in fact, that people were walking around groaning while trying to stuff in an extra bite of another dish.

The one man who hadn’t appeared to fill a plate was the human who’d gotten under her skin and stuck like a burr. Even the news about Hugo hadn’t dislodged that burr—she knew Bowen too well now, simply couldn’t see him authorizing or taking part in the cowardly abduction of BlackSea’s people.

“The man needs to eat,” she muttered to Tansy when her friend walked in to get dinner.

“You know those dominant types.” Tansy shook her head like a wise old owl. “Have you eaten?”

“No.” Kaia couldn’t eat if he was going hungry. “I’ll take him a plate.” Was it possible the meeting with Malachai had gone badly? Her cousin had said nothing to her on that point and she hadn’t asked.

It had felt wrong.

She and Bowen, they owed each other truths now. She wouldn’t go behind his back to get them; she’d ask him about the meeting.

“Oh.” Tansy bit down on her lower lip. “Um, I don’t think Bowen’s in his room. I saw him . . . and Alden was there.”

“What!” Dropping the empty plate on the counter, Kaia rounded on her friend.

Tansy blurted out the coordinates of a corridor outside a disused warehouse in habitat five. “I’m sorry! I d-didn’t—”

But Kaia was already gone.

What was Bo doing there, she thought as she ran, skirting startled clanmates—including a disapproving Bebe—and pelting along the connecting bridge. Despite her physically fit state, she was out of breath and had a crashing heartbeat by the time she finally reached the corridor. Yes, he could defend himself, but Alden was a berserker when he fought. And Bowen had just had brain surgery!

She braced herself for bloodshed.

And found . . . nothing. The corridor was empty, no drops of blood, no dents in the walls. Pressing a hand over her heart, she walked farther down the otherwise vacant space.

What was that?

She bent down to pick up the delicate white petal, brought it to her nose.

Rose.

How odd. Ryūjin’s gardener did grow rosebushes, but there was no growing area in this habitat. Maybe someone had carried a bouquet through here. Because there was another petal and another . . . She followed the trail of petals with a delighted curiosity that momentarily pushed aside the tumult of pain and anger and confusion that had twisted her up the entire day.

The last petal lay on a folded note with her name on it.

“Tansy,” she said sternly to her absent friend, “no wonder you went bright red and started stuttering.” But her lips were smiling and she was opening the note.

A bold and generous hand, the words shaped in deep blue ink: There’s a dress in the room with the red rose on the door.

That door stood to the right of her.

Walking over on feet that felt winged, she slid it open and entered to discover herself in a small storage room that had been cleaned until it shone. A pretty little white table and chair sat to the right, a rectangular mirror standing on the table, while in solitary splendor in the center of the room stood a clothes rack. On it was a long blue dress from her own closet: one shoulder was formed of three strings of pearls that swooped down her back then up to join the other shoulder, the front a sharp vee and the shape of it slinky.

She’d fallen in love with the gorgeous creation online and bought it in a midnight shopping spree. But she’d never worn it—had been saving it for a mating ceremony when one of her single cousins finally fell and fell hard.

The idea of wearing it for her own lover . . . She sighed, her smile glowing. Because this depth of planning had a certain security chief’s hands all over it.

She ran her fingers over the fabric before looking to the table she’d noticed when she walked in. Laid out on top was her hairbrush, her face cream, and a bottle of her moisturizing lotion, as well as the cosmetics and jewelry she might use when she wanted to dress up.

“Sera.” Only her high school friend would know just what to choose.

The last item on the table, however, hadn’t been chosen by Sera. A tiare flower sat in solitary splendor in an open blue velvet box; it looked like a glowing jewel, its scent a familiar kiss. Bowen must’ve done some fast-talking to get his hands on that. Or he’d used security chief skills to purloin it—because Bebe only gave flowers from her prized bushes to people she liked and who hadn’t annoyed her in the past month.