Psy & Changelings 05 - Hostage to Pleasure

didn’t care. Not when it came to protecting her.
    But she didn’t berate him. Instead, she nodded, a bruised kind of resignation in her eyes. “I’d almost convinced myself it would all work out, that she’d listen.” She shook her head. “There’s going to be no easy answer, is there, Dorian?”
    He couldn’t lie to her. “No, Shaya.” This would make them all bleed before it was over.

CHAPTER 42
    Kaleb watched the late afternoon foot traffic in the square outside his Moscow office and considered what Henry had shared at the Council meeting an hour ago. This group—Pure Psy—posed a potential problem. Vigilantes of any type had a way of turning against the very power structure they initially supported. “Silver,” he said into the intercom.
    His aide walked in from the outer office. “Sir?”
    “I want you to find out everything you can about a group called Pure Psy.”
    Silver made a note on her organizer before looking up. “Sir, my family has been approached with an invitation to join Pure Psy.”
    Given the Mercant family’s ruthless penchant for following power, Silver’s willingness to share this information was an interesting comment on his own perceived status. “What can you tell me about them?”
    “Not much at this stage. The group won’t discuss the exact nature of its activities with nonmembers. My family is being cautious about getting involved—we don’t want to do anything to jeopardize our standing with the Council.”
    It was a veiled offer to feed him information. Kaleb knew Silver’s family would cut his throat without a thought if he lost his power, but for now, he had the Mercant resources at his disposal. He’d have been concerned that Silver would betray him with the same glibness, but that wasn’t the Mercant way. The family had a history of unswerving loyalty unless and until the object of that loyalty proved weak. “Thank you, Silver,” he said. “I’d appreciate being kept updated on Pure Psy’s activities.”
    “Yes, sir. Was that all?”
    “Yes.”
    After his aide left, Kaleb took a small platinum charm from his pocket.
    A single star. A marker.
    The NetMind and DarkMind had both defied him in his search for the owner of the charm, but he would succeed. Failure simply wasn’t an option.

CHAPTER 43
    Iliana Aleine was interned at the Center as per Council order 507179, and given intensive rehabilitation. She did not wake from the final procedure. The death arose from complications due to her diseased mind and has been ruled natural.
     
—Death notice received by Ashaya and Amara Aleine, December 2069
     
 
“I asked Lucas to get Sascha,” Dorian told Ashaya after closing his phone and slinging Amara back over his shoulder. “Her gift might help with your sister.”
    Ashaya nodded, hovering as they returned to the cabin and he put his burden in a chair inside.
    “We have to be safe,” he told her as he immobilized Amara with ropes.
    “I know.” But she watched her twin with need in her eyes that Dorian knew would never be fulfilled. Amara was incapable of love as most people understood it—he’d got that with only a glancing acquaintance. But, he thought, tying the final knot, there was something there. It had driven Amara this far into dangerous territory. “Is she really out?” Going to Ashaya, he took her in his arms.
    “Not as deep as before. She’ll probably wake within the next few minutes. You should change. The broadcast.” The plan was for her to make the morning news.
    “I don’t know if I can do it.” She put her ear over his heartbeat.
    Man and leopard were both pleased she saw safety in him. “Yes, you can. Don’t give up.”
    “I can’t leave her alone.” She looked more lost than he’d ever seen her.
    “We won’t.” He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip in a predator’s soothing caress. “Dezi’s already out there and more packmates are heading over. But,” he added, “I’m not going to push you. I’ve been thinking about how far the Council seems ready to go—they came close to violating our implied truce today.” It displayed an arrogant determination that had him questioning his earlier belief that a high profile would ensure his mate’s safety. “We’ll find another way to—”
    Ashaya was already shaking her head. “No.” A husky voice, crushed velvet and feminine will. “I need to do this, for Ekaterina. For my mother. They killed her for daring to speak out, then told us she’d died