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“No…no, no…” She put her hand to her forehead. She glanced up at me, her gray eyes wide and imploring me, and her face just inches away. “How could she do this? I’ve listened to her my entire life. Followed every order.” She inhaled, fixing a more determined expression on her face. “Until this one.”

I knew why and sensed she did too. I’d read it in her reports. She’d asked questions. The Order didn’t want an operative who asked questions; they wanted one who followed their commands.

When I’d read that about her, that’s when I’d told Imogene we might have found someone with reason. Someone who would listen.

Someone who turned out to be my mate.

Her heart beat so close to mine and her breath warmed my cheek. Holding her in my arms like this, feeling her warmth, inhaling her scent…

Fate had to be bringing us together, right?

“Conan?”

“Yes.”

“Can you put me down?” she asked, appearing flustered, as she pulled her head away from my chest.

That small space between us created a gulf I yearned to erase. But that would be coming on way too strong, way too soon.

I carried her to the rocking chair in front of the fire and set her gently in it. When I draped the blanket she’d slept with over her lap, she said, “Thank you.”

While she sat there staring at the fire, I snatched the horrific field order off the floor and shoved it back into the folder. I brought her more tea.

“Can you bring me the folder, please?”

Including that death order, signed by her blood? I hated to bring it to her, but understood, even if it caused her immense pain. She had to see it once more to understand. The woman who’d raised her was an unfeeling monster.

I brought her the folder and sat on the rug beside her. She read through her death warrant a second time.

I’d seen this happen before with the ones that we’d intercepted. They’d read their death warrant twice. The first time was fast, to find out what it said, and then they went back to the top and read it more slowly. The second pass was the one that tore them apart, because that’s when the betrayal sank in.

After that, they reacted differently. One lunged at me. One laughed in an almost maniacal way.

None of them were alive.

I’d buried them myself.

I wouldn’t bury her.

While Ruby read through the document the second time, I put on a shirt. She let out a small sound but didn’t show her reaction in any other way. Instead, she calmly folded the order along its crease and turned it over in her hands. “Why did my grandmother send me here to kill you?”

I weighed my words before I said them, not wanting to cause her any more distress. “Because I’d killed others they sent before you.”

Her eyes widened. “How many?”

“Nine.”

She closed her eyes briefly and reopened them. “Maybe she thought I could do what the others couldn’t.”

“Perhaps,” I replied, although I didn’t believe it. She had a lot to process and she didn’t need one blow after another.

“What if I’d succeeded?” She tipped her head, eyes wide in question.

I arched my brows. “Meaning you killed me?”

“Yes.”

The only answer to that was an honest one. “You’d be taken out on your return up the corridor. They’d blame it on the wolves. Use it as another reason to attack us.”