“Montana?” Rachel asked hopeful y.
He shook his head, reminding himself that he’d promised Micah on his deathbed that she’d be looked after. “We’d never make it that far.
Sentinels wil be breathing down our necks within hours.”
One of the Sentinels had flown away during the conflict, blue wings spread wide as she raced to report the uprising. The rest had stayed and fought, but the razor-sharp tips of their wings had offered too little protection against the size of the Navajo Lake pack, which had needed thinning for months. Seriously outnumbered, the Sentinels had fought to the death, knowing that’s what their captain, Adrian, would do and expect. During the weeks that Elijah had been a member of Adrian’s pack, he’d seen for himself how tenacious and committed the Sentinel leader was. Only one thing could split Adrian’s focus, and even she couldn’t dul the angel’s kil er instinct.
“There’s a network of caves near Bryce Canyon.” Elijah turned his back to the Navajo Lake outpost for the last time. “We’l hole up there until we’re organized.”
“Caves?” Rachel asked, scowling.
“This was no victory, Rachel.”
She flinched away from the undercurrent of anger in his tone. “We’re free.”
“We were hunters and now we’re prey. That’s not an improvement. We kicked the Sentinels when they were already down. They were outnumbered twenty-to-one, taken by surprise, and lacking Adrian, who’s dealing with so much shit right now his head isn’t ful y in the game. This was a one-shot, one-kil deal.”
Rachel’s shoulders went back, thrusting her smal br**sts forward. Nudity was nothing to a lycan; flesh or fur, it was al the same. “And we took it.”
“Yes, you did. Now trust me to handle the rest.”
“This is what Micah wanted, El.”
Elijah sighed, his anger swal owed by a tide of regret and grief. “I know what he wanted—a home in the suburbs, a nine-to-five job, carpools, and play dates. I would do anything to give you that dream…to give it to any other lycan with a wish for the same…but it’s impossible. You’ve dumped a task in my lap that I failed before I began, because there’s no way for me to succeed.”
And they couldn’t know what that failure cost him. He would never say. He could only make the best of what he had to work with and try to keep those who were now dependent on him alive.
He looked at Stephan. “I want teams of two sent to the other outposts. Preferably mated pairs.”
Mates would protect each other to the death. In times like these, when they would be hunted while separated from their pack, they’d need al the support they could get.
“Notify as many lycans as possible,” he went on, rol ing his shoulders back to ease the tension in his neck. “Adrian wil cut off outside communication to and from al the outposts—cel phones, the Internet, snail mail. So the teams wil need to tackle the task directly, face-to-face.”
Stephan nodded. “I’l see to it.”
“Everyone needs to withdraw whatever money they’ve got socked away before Adrian freezes their accounts.” As “employees” of Adrian’s aviation corporation, Mitchel Aeronautics, their stipends were deposited in an employee credit union that Adrian had complete access to.
“Most have already done that,” Rachel said quietly.
So, she’d thought that far ahead, at least. Elijah sent her off to gather the others; then he turned to Stephan. “I need the two lycans you trust the most for a special assignment: Find Lindsay Gibson. I want her whereabouts and status.”
Stephan’s eyes widened with surprise at the mention of Adrian’s mate.
Elijah struggled through the driving urge to find Lindsay himself, a mortal woman he considered a friend, the only one he had left now that Micah was dead. In so many ways, she was a mystery. She’d stumbled into their lives without warning, displaying skil s no mere human should possess and garnering the Sentinel leader’s attention in ways Elijah had never witnessed or heard of.
Unlike the Fal en, who had lost their wings because they’d fraternized with mortals, the Sentinels were angels above reproach. The sins of the flesh and the vagaries of human emotion were far beneath their lofty stations. Elijah had never seen a Sentinel show even a flicker of desire or longing…until Adrian took one look at Lindsay Gibson and claimed her with a fierceness that surprised everyone. The Sentinel leader protected her life with more care than he did his own, putting Elijah in charge of her safety despite knowing that he was one of the rare, anomalous Alphas that were swiftly weeded out of the lycan packs.
It was during the course of his protection of Lindsay that a friendship had developed between them. Their easy camaraderie ran deep enough that they would die for each other. I’d take a bullet for you, she had told him once. Not many people had friends like that and Elijah had none now but her. He may have become the lycan Alpha, but Lindsay’s safety wasn’t a concern he’d ever relinquish. She had gone missing under the Sentinels’ watch, and he wouldn’t rest easy until he knew she was okay.
“I want her found and safe,” Elijah said, “by whatever means necessary.”
Stephan nodded. The unchal enged acquiescence gave Elijah the first hope that they just might have a chance in hel of surviving after al .
“Fuckin’ A.” Vash eyed the hazmat suit she held in her hand and felt a shard of icy fear pierce her gut.
Dr. Grace Petersen rubbed at one bleary eye with a fist. “We’re not entirely sure how the disease is transmitted. Better to be safe than sick—trust me. Bad piece of business.”
Pul ing on the suit, Vash forced her mind to clear out the rising panic. She focused on reviving the scholarly skil s and mindset she’d been sent to earth with as a Watcher. It had been a long time since she’d approached anything without the warrior’s mindset she’d cultivated as a vampress, but this was a battle she couldn’t fight with her fangs or fists.