Page 20 of Crimson Moon Falling

Gunnar watched me. “You need to be careful, Blackthorne. You’ve got some scary bastards after you. Marlowe, Apex, and whoever took Viggo.”

“Don’t forget the FBCI. And with my luck, the IRS is probably after me too.”

“It’s not funny.” He took a swig of his soda, the can looking tiny in his huge hand.

“It’s a little funny,” I muttered.

Conall shook his head at us as Gunnar let out a tired belch. I stared down at the ripped receipt and old journal on the table. They were our only leads to Viggo’s disappearance.

An hour later, Freda and Bennion returned with groceries. Conall nodded at his Betas. “Thanks for doing a food run. Beau offered Riley and me a cabin just up the path.”

Bennion nodded. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Twenty minutes later, as Conall and I walked to the smaller cabin, I silently assessed the daily toll the implant exacted. It had become a ritual I allowed myself once a day. My Resonance and analytical thinking were sharpening, while my emotions were slowly fading.

“You’re getting quieter,” Conall observed, his large hand warming mine. “What’s happening inside that brilliant mind of yours?”

I considered giving him a safe, vague answer, but he deserved the truth. “It’s spreading. My abilities are sharpening, but the implant is slowly numbing everything else.”

He squeezed my hand. “Drew is doing some research. We’ll figure this out,” he vowed. But we both knew time was running out.

The small cabin glowed softly in the moonlight. It had a covered porch and windows overlooking a meadow. Inside, the cozy space had a stone fireplace and rustic furnishings.

We put our bags away, and I moved to the side of the bed, looking down at the patchwork quilt.

“I’m sorry.”

He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest. “Don’t apologize for what was done to you.” Maybe I was apologizing. Or maybe I was acknowledging that if nothing changed, the implant would eventually extinguish our bond, like a harsh wind blowing out a sputtering candle.

Conall’s phone rang, and he checked his screen. “It’s Sawyer. I need to take this.”

“Put him on speaker,” I requested.

Sawyer didn’t waste time. “How is she?”

We sat on the edge of the bed, and Conall stared at me. “She’s here, and you’re on speaker. We’re dealing with it.”

“Freda filled me in about Langston. He’s somehow connected to ApGen, and now he’s showing up there. There’s got to be a connection.”

Conall’s jaw tightened. “He came for her personally. This wasn’t a standard debriefing. He was looking for information about the facility in Roswell, and probably wanted to get his hands on her implant. He brought Hayden and Hunter with him.”

“His fucking orcs? I thought they were in federal prison after that bloodbath in Louisiana.”

“So did I,” Conall growled.

“We need to keep tabs on Langston. He’s too interested in Roswell and Austin, and he targeted an Alpha Mate. The Council would support us taking him out.”

“I want to know who he’s connected to first, and what he knows,” Conall replied.

“Let me come up with a plan. You have your hands full.”

“Thank you. Riley has to go in for an official interview and physical exam.”

They continued discussing logistics as I listened with analytical detachment. They were planning an execution, but I didn’t feel any moral qualms or emotional reaction. Six months ago, this conversation would have horrified me. Now, it mildly disturbed me, while I intellectually agreed it made tactical sense.

When he hung up, Conall turned to me. I sat with my arms wrapped around my waist, trying to keep warm.

He pulled me to my feet. “Come on. I know how to get you warm.”