Page 17 of The Alpha’s Heir

I knew about mutants. What the history books said. The corrupted scientists who’d tried to splice human and lycan DNA. The lab leak. The purists’ crusades. The years of war and darkness until the humans built their cities to salvage what remained of pure bloodlines.

There was some dissent now in the elite circles as to whether the toxic wastelands humans had left behind were only recently stable or if they’d been for some time, but the mutants had thrived out there for centuries. And Ethica prided itself on being more modern than other human cities around the world by becoming the first to establish trade and relations with the mutants.

Personally, I knew half of this was bullshit. They were stories, and like Dad said in secret a time or two, winners write the history books, so be careful whose side you’re reading.

But I could see the divide between us now in the wonder on Meg’s face as she took in the buildings surrounding the street. I’d never been to the wastelands in the wild and I imagined my own experience would be the same.

This pretty mutant woman didn’t belong here.

“Are those people standing still, and moving?” She pressed her face to the glass as we headed toward the entertainment district.

I chuckled a bit, surprising myself before I controlled my expression again. “The autowalk sidewalks keep pedestrian traffic moving at an optimal pace,” I recited what every human knew.

“Oh.” Her mouth hung open in that O as the passing buildings reflected in her eyes. “There are so many windows. My mom said…” Meg’s voice got smaller before it grew stronger again. “I thought the houses didn’t have windows.”

As much as I wanted to pry deeper and ask about her mother, about her family out there—as a matter of national security of course—I knew my place.

“Most of them don’t. Those are the stores and restaurants. People pay for the view.” I left it at that, not wanting to explain how it worked with the divide in classes. The house she’d be staying at would have windows facing the public gardens and she’d have plenty to look at there.

Curse science, what is Helen thinking?

I tightened my grip on the wheel. The guard at the security office waved us through.

“We’re here,” I said, right as the car informed us we’d arrived at our destination.

“So fast?” Her face was flushed a shade of pink, and I got the feeling she was nervous now. I hurried outside so as not to drag this out.

Meg opened her door before I got to it. That bothered me for some reason. My job was to see her safely inside and to her quarters. It was the least I could do.

Her mouth had dropped open again as she stared up at the four-story house, and then the nearly identical buildings that made up the government district. Her gaze locked onto the manicured gardens with the old trees and memorial paths.

“Mom told me about that.”

Her mom must’ve been Sage, the notorious criminal who’d fled the city many years ago.

“What else did she say?” I asked, curious to know more. Not that I planned on relaying anything to intel, but just in case.

“Never mind.” Meg’s smile brightened her whole face. “So this is home?”

“This is home.” I reached for her bag. The sooner I dropped her off, the sooner I could get back to my men. I needed to convince Helen and the colonel that this was a mistake.

Meg kept her belongings close. Almost as if she didn’t trust me. That stung more than it had any right to. But she wasn’t from here. She was smart to be wary of strangers.

I scanned our surroundings as I hurried up to the front door and keyed in the code. The house was empty, like usual. Ethica’s outside weather always remained at optimum temperatures, but the inside of the house felt cooler as the marble floors and twenty-foot ceilings sat vigil, waiting for the inhabitants to come home.

“Your room is up here.” I guided her to the grand staircase with its black banister and oversized paintings lining the wall. The pieces were classic, depicting various stages of inventions throughout history. Gutenberg’s printing press. Bell’s telephone. Edison’s lightbulb. Benz’s Motorwagen. The Atanasoff-Berry computer.

All hail the greatness of science.

Meg walked slowly up the stairs, frowning as she studied the images. The urge to ask if she’d seen them before—to know what they were taught out there in the wild—itched just under the surface of my skin.

I walked faster.

Meg stopped at the top of the stairs and looked over the house from this angle. The black circle of a chandelier hung on suspension chains over the foyer below. Where we stood, halls stretched out to either side of us, leading to the family’s private quarters.

I expected her to comment on the opulence of the house. Most people were impressed. The design was meant to wow its guests.

“It’s cold,” she said.