Allegiance of Honor (Psy-Changeling #15) - Nalini Singh Page 0,85

to stretch my legs with our future soccer star.”

Dorian closed his hand over hers, his eyebrows drawing together. “Hold up. What aren’t you saying?”

Ashaya looked over as if to ensure Keenan was happy in his play before replying. “I don’t know for certain yet.” Her voice was troubled. “But . . . I have a very bad feeling the implants are going to start failing in months if not sooner. I don’t mean simply in effectiveness. I mean a degradation that’ll impact the brain.”

Lucas sucked in a quiet breath, all amusement instantly erased. “You’re talking about the same implant that’s in Bo’s head?” he asked, referring to the effective leader of the Human Alliance. “The one that shields his mind against psychic manipulation?” Natural human shields were far weaker than the rock-solid ones possessed by changelings.

Nodding, Ashaya said, “I haven’t shared my concerns with him yet. Amara and I want to be positive beyond any doubt—because the very first group that received the implants? They’re beyond the stage where a surgical removal is safe.”

That group included Bo and his top people.

“I won’t mention it,” Lucas promised as Dorian cuddled Ashaya against him, murmuring things to her that made her nod and whisper back.

“Shit,” Dorian said after Ashaya left to play with Keenan. “If those implants fail, we lose Bo.”

That would be disastrous. While the other man had made bad mistakes in his original interactions with DarkRiver and SnowDancer, he’d proven to be a cool head with whom they could build a relationship. Even more critically, he had the charisma and the passion to reach millions of humans and convince them to believe in the vital importance of uniting under the Alliance banner. Lose Bowen Knight and the Alliance would disintegrate, of that Lucas was convinced. It wasn’t strong enough to survive without him, not yet.

And if they lost the Alliance, Trinity would fall.

The world could not afford for Trinity to fall. The instant it did, the Consortium would sweep in and chaos would reign.

Jaw grim, Lucas said, “Let’s hope Ashaya and Amara disprove their own theory.” It was a very faint hope: together, Ashaya and her twin were the best in the world in their field.

Dorian’s eyes reflected the same bleak knowledge, but he just nodded. “So, the ocelots.” His expression darkened further. “Our old information was out of date. They did use to be a small but strong and stable pack in their region, but they got caught in the insanity that hit the Psy.”

“You’re talking literally?” Lucas’s gut went tight as he remembered the murderous violence that had nearly overwhelmed the Psy race at the start of this year.

“Yeah. SkyElm was—is—based next to a large Psy hamlet. The ocelots have plenty of room to roam but their main pack settlement has always been near the border—just a historical thing no one bothered to change because the two sides kept to themselves.” Glancing over at his mate and son when they laughed, Dorian exhaled.

“But when the Psy started losing their minds because of the shit that was going down in their PsyNet, the pack was caught out.” Dorian drank more of his coffee but didn’t seem to taste it, his mind on whatever it was he’d discovered. “I can’t figure out why the hell the alpha didn’t move his people, since the hamlet outbreak happened after the first major outbreaks in New York.”

At which point, Lucas thought, the entire world knew ordinary Psy had suddenly become deadly neighbors to have. “How many?” he asked quietly. Dorian wouldn’t be this affected if the pack had lost two or three members.

The sentinel’s words were brutal. “There are only seven survivors. From a pack that was ninety-three strong.”

Lucas’s hand clenched so hard around his mug that he almost cracked it. “How is that possible?” The casualty rate was far too high for a predatory changeling pack pitched against the unthinking insane.

“Ocelots were unbalanced.” Dorian’s eyes turned into chips of ice. “SkyElm had too many elders and children, not enough aggressive dominants physically able to defend the pack.”

Claws pushing at his skin, Lucas had to make a conscious effort not to snarl.

He tried not to judge other alphas, but the situation Dorian was describing should’ve never happened. It was an alpha’s responsibility to ensure his pack had a balanced complement of dominants in the prime of their life. Sometimes that meant putting out the call to friendly packs for intrepid young men and women who wanted to take up higher-level positions than they