Bonds of Justice

Councilors.”

Marsha Langholm touched the screen of her organizer where it lay on the table in front of her, not a restless motion—fully conditioned Psy never made those—but an indication. “I looked you up, Detective Shannon. For a man with such a high solve rate, you’re a rare presence in the news media.”

Max shrugged, let it rest at that.

“It makes me willing to share this information. I’ve heard murmurs that Henry Scott has aligned himself fully with Pure Psy, and that Shoshanna, as his wife, is aligned with him.”

Max made a mental note to ask Sophie how that worked—the Scotts couldn’t truly be husband and wife, not in the emotional sense. “That still leaves Anthony Kyriakus, Tatiana Rika-Smythe, Ming LeBon, and Kaleb Krychek.”

“All four have undeclared political loyalties,” Marsha Langholm said. “Pure Psy might be suspicious that Anthony doesn’t stand on their side of the line, but then again, his action in subcontracting foreseeing work to his daughter is an understandable business decision, given Faith NightStar’s sheer value. And, the NightStar clan has little contact with changelings beyond that subcontracting arrangement.”

Sophia spoke again, her voice a stroke against Max’s senses. “Do you have any idea where the other Councilors might stand?”

“Tatiana Rika-Smythe recently bought significant amounts of shares in human companies. If she continues on that track, it will by default put her on the other side of the line from Pure Psy. Ming LeBon and Kaleb Krychek are unknowns. They’ve done nothing that could be considered either for or against the group.”

“I don’t get one thing,” Max said, tipping back his chair. “Psy are all about logic, right?”

“Correct, Detective.”

“Then Pure Psy makes no rational sense.” A pointed tap on his foot. Hiding his grin, he put his chair back down on all four legs. “If they succeed, they’ll isolate the Psy, cut off huge sources of revenue.”

Marsha Langholm didn’t answer. Sophia did. “It is logical, in a way,” she said. “Pure Psy believes that if the Net is ‘closed’ again, then Psy power will grow to the extent that our race will eventually be able to exterminate the changelings and humans both.”

“Even if such an act means a loss of power—of personnel,” Marsha Langholm added, “in the short term.”

It was the most cold-blooded description of murder Max had ever heard.

Dorian looked up from the computer where he was doing something that disappeared the instant Sascha and Lucas walked into the second subbasement of the DarkRiver building.

“He knows,” Sascha whispered to her co-conspirator.

Dorian grinned at Lucas. “So how mad are you?”

“If you didn’t have a mate, I’d consider making you a eunuch,” Lucas said, watching Sascha walk over to stand on Dorian’s other side, her hand on the back of the sentinel’s chair.

Turning, Dorian angled his head, asking for permission. When Sascha smiled, he pressed his ear against her belly, touching his hand protectively to the swell. If any man outside the pack had dared to do that, Lucas would’ve torn him to shreds with his bare claws. But this was Dorian, Sascha’s favorite sentinel, and one of the best friends Lucas had ever had.

His panther sat up in inquisitive interest when Sascha laughed at something Dorian whispered to the baby. “Hey,” the sentinel said in a louder tone, “you never know. Kid could come out wanting to know all about advanced martial arts.”

Sascha messed up the sentinel’s distinctive white-blond hair. “According to Vaughn, she’s going to be a painter, he’s sure of it. According to Clay, he’s going to be a sentinel-born. According to Hawke—”

Lucas growled at the wolf alpha’s name.

Laughing, Sascha continued. “According to Hawke, her purpose in life is going to be to make Lucas insane. He’s already bought Lucas a woolen hat—for when he tears his hair out,” she explained at Dorian’s confused look.

Lucas felt his lips tug upward at her gentle teasing. “You know what I can’t wait for? That wolf to get his comeuppance. I’m going to throw a party when he gets mated—then take a front-row seat while his mate makes mincemeat out of him.”

Sascha’s expression softened, and Lucas could guess the direction of her thoughts. Accepted knowledge said the wolf alpha would never mate, but things had shifted in the past year. It was beginning to look as if there might be a chance for the SnowDancer. And no matter how much they antagonized each other, Lucas would never wish anything but good luck to the other male on this one point. Because when it came to mating . . .

His eyes met those of the cardinal Psy who was his mate, his heartbeat. “Stop flirting with Dorian and come over here.”

Taking his hand, she moved to fit herself against his side. “I wouldn’t dare flirt with Dorian. Ashaya would turn me into chopped liver.”

Dorian gave a smug grin. “My mate thinks I’m the most gorgeous leopard she ever saw.”

“Show us the footage before your head explodes,” Lucas muttered, but his own cat was grinning to see Dorian so happy. The sentinel had been latent most of his life, unable to shift into leopard form. Now that he could, he did so at every opportunity. “Have you managed to catch a rabbit yet?”

A single eloquent finger. “Fuck you.”

Lucas snickered. “What about trying for a turtle?”

Dorian lunged out of the chair and went for Lucas’s throat.

Laughing, Sascha watched the two men fall to the floor. Neither had released claws, and it was obvious they weren’t doing anything much more than wrestling. Men, she thought with a fond shake of her head, turning to take Dorian’s chair.

Oooh, that felt so much better.

Though her energy levels had increased over the past week or two, her ankles were persisting in their attempts to turn into miniature logs. A little bump in her stomach, a reminder that it was all worth it. Yes, she thought to her child, you’re worth everything.

A sense of happiness, warmth, belonging.

She stroked her hand over her belly, keeping one eye on the two boys still rolling around on the floor. You’re incredibly loved, my sweet baby. The entire pack was waiting for the birth, as they did for every birth in DarkRiver. Each child was treasured, celebrated.

None would ever be rejected as flawed.

Smiling, she tapped the screen to bring up the correct files. Dorian hadn’t actually listened in on her conversation with Marsha—instead, he’d monitored the tone of her voice with one of his gadgets, ready to break down the door the instant it indicated distress. However, he’d also kept an ear on what went on in the corridor, recording it as a matter of course.

Something thumped behind her as she opened the file. “Dorian?” she said. “Is this audio only?”

“What—umfh!” Another thump. “Yeah. Haven’t had a chance to—”

A loud crash.

Trying to keep a stern face, she turned. “If you mess up this lab, I’ll rat you out to Ria.” Lucas’s administrative assistant had ordered all the hard-to-find equipment Dorian had specified, helped put the place in order to the last rivet and bolt.

Lucas lifted up his face, his hair messy and so gorgeous, she wanted to tumble him to the floor herself. “Aw, come on.”

“Yeah,” Dorian muttered, pushing himself up into a sitting position, his T-shirt rucked up to bare part of his muscled abdomen. “That’s just mean, siccing Ria on us.”

“She’s five feet and zero inches,” Sascha said, noting that between them, Lucas and Dorian probably outweighed and out-muscled Ria four times over. “Why are you all so scared of her?”

“You don’t know ’cause she likes you.” Getting up, Lucas held his hand down to Dorian, who took it and bounced up to his feet.