inhuman monsters.
The answering panic was widespread and quickly gaining ground. Riots in Boston had begun spreading to other cities. The small number of protesters that were commonplace in front of the Order’s D.C. headquarters had swelled to dozens in just a matter of hours. And while the civilians’ upset was trouble enough, militant groups around the world were now using the attack on Ackmeyer’s lab by suspected rebels as a rallying cry to vandalize and loot, to lash out at governments they deemed too willing to capitulate to the might and will of the Order and the rest of the Breed.
The current situation was, in a word, chaos.
With Lucan and the Order now standing squarely in the middle of it.
“We need to shut this shit down,” Lucan growled, anger spiking as the rumble of picketers outside the estate’s gates droned on. “We should be back on watch at our district command centers, in case the response to tonight’s news escalates from aggravating provocation to all-out anarchy.”
“Then again,” Gideon interjected, “it may be more important than ever for us to stand with the GNC, show the human public that their panic is without merit, and the Order is on their side. Show the world that we can be trusted as a partner in the effort toward peace between our races.”
Lucan saw Gabrielle and a few others nod in agreement. He knew they were probably right, but at the moment it was difficult to rein in the part of him that was ancient and answered to no one. The leader who, for centuries now, was accustomed to making the rules and, when called for, enforcing them with unstoppable might.
And right now, the last thing he gave a damn about was making a group public appearance at the summit, just to demonstrate solidarity with the GNC, whose members were apparently all too willing to throw the Order under the bus, or with the humans, who may never see the Breed as anything more than bogeymen just waiting for the opportunity to rip out their throats.
Diplomacy had never been his strong suit, and tonight it chafed more than ever.
Lucan curbed his internal aggression and paused to address Gideon. “Any leads on the name Nathan supplied us—this rebel bastard, Bowman?”
“I got zip so far,” Gideon replied. “Bowman’s kept his nose clean, that’s for sure. I’ve dug everywhere I can for the guy—criminal activity, arrest records . . . no hard data on him anywhere. He’s like a ghost.”
Renata lifted her head, jade green eyes snapping with fury. “Meanwhile, he’s got my child. If he’s harmed Mira in any way—if he’s . . . touched her . . . I want to be the one to personally eviscerate him.”
“Not if I get to the son of a bitch first, babe,” Niko said, his tone gentle, but his gaze lit up with amber rage.
Rio spoke next. “I say we gear up and head to Boston—the two of us, my friend. We’ll hunt down this Bowman and the vermin he runs with, and when we find him, we’ll make them dine on bullets and steel.”
Lucan felt the same cold need to personally be the one to cut off the head of the enemy who’d taken one of the Order’s own kin. That Bowman had also orchestrated Ackmeyer’s abduction and death, inciting riots and jeopardizing the summit at the same time, only made Lucan’s blood chill all the more.
As he considered the justice he would exact from the elusive rebel leader, Lucan’s comm unit buzzed in his pants pocket. Who now? he wondered irritably, then barked out a curse when he saw who was calling him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he snarled. “Bad enough I’ve been fielding calls all night from Council members, JUSTIS officials, and press. Now I’ve got that blowhard Reginald Crowe looking for a piece of me?”
Like a dog marking territory, the arrogant tycoon had been busy making sure he seized every opportunity to stake his claim on the summit. Hosting the pricey gala apparently wasn’t enough for Crowe. He had also recently announced the unveiling of a sculpture commemorating First Dawn and the peace summit, presenting it as a gift to be installed at GNC headquarters during the gathering. Given Crowe’s inflated sense of self-worth, Lucan wouldn’t be at all surprised if the piece was a life-size statue of the man himself.
Lucan ignored Crowe’s call, putting the device on silent and shoving it back into his pocket on another ripe curse.
It wasn’t even a moment later that