Author: J.D. Tyler

Ryon's wolf snarled in rage, and he barely kept the sound from escaping. The claws on his hand lengthened, and he waited.

Daria didn't answer, but began to back away, bringing the guard closer to Ryon's hiding place. Good girl. Just a bit more. Ryon clenched his teeth as the dirtbag crowded her and cupped a breast, confident in his ability to overpower her. A sloppy fool, smelling faintly of whiskey. And groping his mate. It would be his last mistake.

"Very nice," the man laughed, low and nasty. "You're going to come with me, open your pretty legs, and learn how to treat a real man. Then I might be persuaded to forget you were here-"

Ryon had heard enough. Moving silently, he came at the goon from behind, reached around him, and delivered a vicious, lethal swipe to his neck. Blood sprayed over the pristine floor, and he could muster no sympathy for the slimy bastard.

Working fast, he lowered the huge man to the floor, laid the rifle on his chest, took him by the ankles, and dragged him away. The living room offered no place to stash the body, so he secreted it inside the pantry. Next, he grabbed a couple of kitchen towels and quickly wiped as much of the blood as possible from the floor. A hurried inspection would pass in the darkness, but the guard would be missed eventually. After relieving the man of his shirt, pants, handgun and bullets, he rejoined Daria.

She hadn't moved, but stood like a small, pale ghost with wide, fathomless eyes that he couldn't see in the dark. Only the firm line of her unsmiling mouth gave voice to her thoughts. He touched her cheek.

"I had no choice, baby. He would've killed us both."

"I know."

But her tone was dull. She was coming to terms with the fact that the man she loved was a natural-born killer. He wasn't some romantic commando from a Stallone movie, but the real thing, and he had other abilities tacked on for good measure. Knowing that and witnessing it were different matters. Heart heavy, he dropped his hand and turned to head for the office.

Daria swept in ahead of Ryon, and he left the door cracked a bit before joining her at the computer. She settled into August's black leather chair, retrieving the thumb drive case from her pack. She wiggled the mouse to wake up the sleeping machine, then stuck in the thumb drive. The password box immediately appeared on the screen.

Fingers flying, Daria tried the last several codes. Access denied. "Damn. Have any more secret access codes up your sleeve?"

"Try Project Malik, no spaces."

She clicked out the word, pressed enter. They were in! "Another safety net, mate? My, you and Nick were busy boys," she commented without looking up.

Intent on her purpose, she leaned forward. His affirmation fueled her desire to get that final piece of evidence, the ace in the hole. Ryon didn't interfere. Her computer skills matched or surpassed his, and he knew she would've eventually broken into the main screen, even without Nick's help.

Conscious of the minutes slipping away, he peered into the hallway. Still clear, but not for long. Any minute one of the guards would stroll to the pool to check in with the missing man. He and Daria might have a few more minutes before they realized the man wasn't in the restroom, or in the kitchen pilfering a late-night snack.

Sweat beaded on Ryon's forehead and neck, and not just from nerves. The room was unbearably hot, his leg killing him. Not a good sign. Forcing the discomfort from his mind, he walked back to Daria.

Hunched over, she punched in another series of numbers. Waited. Then, like a miracle, a spreadsheet filled the screen. All the information they needed, at their fingertips. Smiling, Daria raised a fist in victory.

"It's all here. The drugs they used on the shifters, names of their victims-or test subjects as the assholes called them-names of doctors and others in their employ. All sorts of damning evidence."

"God, this is so much more extensive than what we recovered from Bowman's last testing site." Something caught Ryon's eye. "Look there. It says Medicinal Countermeasures for Morphing Agents, and it looks like a recipe. Does that mean what I think?"

"It's an antidote," she breathed. Typing fast, she opened a window and, following Ryon's direction, began to send the all-important files to the Pack compound's server.

He contacted his commander. Nick, we've got it! All the files are coming your way, and it looks like there's a reversal drug for the shit they did to Ben and the others.

After a couple of seconds, the man answered in relief. Great job. As soon as it's sent, get the hell out. Time is short. I'll get our lab people working on the antidote and try to have it in hand when we fly out to pick you both up.

All right, and thanks. For everything.

Just go, and hurry.

A box flashed with the words Transfer Complete. Ryon kissed the top of her head. "I'm impressed, angel. Now let's get going. I never want to see this place again."

"I couldn't agree more."

Daria removed the thumb drive and secured it in the case again, hands trembling. Ryon could imagine what a monumental occasion this was for her, because it meant as much to him. Now Ben at least had a chance. She zipped the pack, logged off the computer, and turned to him.

"I can't wait to see the government come down on his ass like a bad case of clap."

A deep, taunting laugh reverberated against the walls, startling them both. August Bradford stepped into the office and flipped on the lights, a pistol trained on them.

Oh, Jesus.

Ryon froze and Daria pressed herself to his side. He didn't dare glance at her. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. Swallowing his sickness and anger, he met his enemy's black gaze without flinching.

August was a handsome man, with few lines on his face to hint at his age. He carried himself tall and straight, and wore an expression of faint amusement. He looked and acted the part of a spoiled, entitled man who must have very much enjoyed playing God along with Malik and Bowman.

"They wouldn't be the first ones to try, dearest niece." August looked from her back to Ryon, his smile chilling, voice dripping with meaning. "Place your weapons on the floor, nice and slow."

They did, keeping their hands in sight, then straightened. Ryon didn't respond right away, but took in the rest of August's appearance. He was dressed in blue silk pajamas, his hair shooting in several directions, mussed from sleep. They'd surprised him, which might work in their favor. The fact that the guards hadn't followed on his heels meant he had yet to alert them. That might prove their only chance for escape.

"You might want to play nice with us, old man," Ryon said flatly.

"All right, I'll bite. Why would I want to play nice?"

"Because we just sent all of your files to an arm of the government that is very interested in stamping out every last trace of the heinous experiments you were involved in with Gene Bowman and the Unseelie, Malik, whom you knew was masquerading as rich entrepreneur Evan Kerrigan."

Though the man maintained his smile, it tightened noticeably. "The government, you say? Well, there was your first mistake."

"Now I'll bite. How so?"

August cocked his head, studying Ryon. "You're a shifter. Cat? Wolf?"

He saw no reason to lie. "Wolf."

"Made, not born."

"Yes." He exchanged a quick look of confusion with Daria. Where was this going?

"Since you're with an arm of the government, as you put it, I'll assume it's black ops. Am I correct in also assuming you were military before you were turned?"

"Navy SEAL," he admitted, a cold ball forming in his stomach. This man was getting at something very bad, and they were about to learn what. "So, what does any of that mean?"

"Ah, Ryon Hunter, you've been wondering that for years, haven't you?" August almost whispered, a clever light in his eyes.

A cold shock went through him. "How do you know my name? What are you trying to say?"

"Must I do all the work here? Connect the dots, boy. Haven't you and your fellow SEALs who were attacked in Afghanistan and turned six years ago wondered why?"

Ryon stared at the man, his heart pounding in dread.

August chuckled, stepping closer. "Why did you all survive, when so many others died? How is it that a group of human men, each with Psy powers unbeknownst to the others, ended up in the same unit? How did it happen that they were attacked that day, thousands of miles from home, and no one but the men with the Psy abilities survived the slaughter? At some point, each of your team must have wondered why, why, why."

Ryon groaned as the full import hit, and he nearly collapsed. "Mother of God. It's true. We were set up."

"Yes, young wolf. You were set up from the very beginning, down to the last man." Glancing at the computer they'd hacked, he shook his head. "You might be able to help my niece's hapless former fiance, but in the end it won't matter. Where do you think all of the information you've gone to so much trouble to obtain will go? In whose hands will it finally rest?"

"Someone high up," he said desperately. "Someone who'll stop you, maybe put you behind bars for the things you've done."

August studied him for a long moment. Then he spoke quietly. "Did your team honestly think that Malik and Bowman were the end of the line? That we could possibly have put in place an operation of such a large scale without someone high up, as you say, calling the shots?"

"No," Ryon whispered. "I won't believe it."

"Believe what you will. Malik had his own agenda and his own God complex. But the truth is, the tentacles of this thing go all the way to the top. To the fucking Oval Office. Are you following me, boy? It's not one person, but several in key positions of power in the United States government."

Ryon gripped the edge of the desk, sweat dripping onto the surface. Horror consumed him, robbed his speech.

August nodded. "Everything was planned. Your team pulled together beautifully, and afterward we focused our research on other areas, such as how to create an even stronger, more lethal shifter. A legion of super-soldiers. Until things began to go wrong."

"You mean until the Alpha Pack turned on its creator, and began to dismantle the project."

Nick! Nick, did you know? Please, tell me you didn't. The commander remained silent.

"Exactly. Thanks to someone of power who's helping the Pack, guiding them from afar." As though suddenly remembering the gun in his hand, he leveled it at them more squarely. "And you're going to tell me who it is, or I'll kill you both."

August doesn't know. He has no idea General Jarrod Grant is our ally.

"I don't fucking think so, you sonofabitch!"

Moving fast, he launched himself at August.

The deafening blast of the gunshot, and Daria's terrified scream, tore into Ryon as he fell.

Chapter Fourteen

Ryon yelled, throwing himself at August, and all hell broke loose.

A gunshot blasted the air, and the two men crashed to the floor, grappling for the weapon. They rolled, and Ryon landed a punch to August's jaw with his free hand. Daria bent and snatched the SIG off the floor, hoping to get a shot at August.

"Daria, go! There's no time!" Ryon shouted.

She hesitated, but knew he was right. A crash sounded somewhere in the house, followed by pounding feet. If she distracted him by not following his order, he'd lose focus on the fight and they would both die for nothing. She hated leaving the pack with their supplies, but they had no choice now. Speed was everything, and all they had to do now was make the rendezvous point. Praying Ryon would follow, she turned, released her wolf and shifted, and dove headfirst through the plate-glass window.

Daria's first thought was that that stunt always looked so easy in the movies. Her second, that she'd probably scalped her hide on the glass even through her thick fur. She rolled to her feet, shaking off her clothes and the shards of glass that rained like confetti, and hit the ground running as though the hounds of hell were on her heels.