Fingers flying, Daria tried the last several codes. Access denied. “Damn. Have any more secret access codes up your sleeve?”
“Try Project Malik, no spaces.”
She clicked out the word, pressed enter. They were in! “Another safety net, mate? My, you and Nick were busy boys,” she commented without looking up.
Intent on her purpose, she leaned forward. His affirmation fueled her desire to get that final piece of evidence, the ace in the hole. Ryon didn’t interfere. Her computer skills matched or surpassed his, and he knew she would’ve eventually broken into the main screen, even without Nick’s help.
Conscious of the minutes slipping away, he peered into the hallway. Still clear, but not for long. Any minute one of the guards would stroll to the pool to check in with the missing man. He and Daria might have a few more minutes before they realized the man wasn’t in the restroom, or in the kitchen pilfering a late-night snack.
Sweat beaded on Ryon’s forehead and neck, and not just from nerves. The room was unbearably hot, his leg killing him. Not a good sign. Forcing the discomfort from his mind, he walked back to Daria.
Hunched over, she punched in another series of numbers. Waited. Then, like a miracle, a spreadsheet filled the screen. All the information they needed, at their fingertips. Smiling, Daria raised a fist in victory.
“It’s all here. The drugs they used on the shifters, names of their victims—or test subjects as the assholes called them—names of doctors and others in their employ. All sorts of damning evidence.”
“God, this is so much more extensive than what we recovered from Bowman’s last testing site.” Something caught Ryon’s eye. “Look there. It says Medicinal Countermeasures for Morphing Agents, and it looks like a recipe. Does that mean what I think?”
“It’s an antidote,” she breathed. Typing fast, she opened a window and, following Ryon’s direction, began to send the all-important files to the Pack compound’s server.
He contacted his commander. Nick, we’ve got it! All the files are coming your way, and it looks like there’s a reversal drug for the shit they did to Ben and the others.
After a couple of seconds, the man answered in relief. Great job. As soon as it’s sent, get the hell out. Time is short. I’ll get our lab people working on the antidote and try to have it in hand when we fly out to pick you both up.
All right, and thanks. For everything.
Just go, and hurry.
A box flashed with the words Transfer Complete. Ryon kissed the top of her head. “I’m impressed, angel. Now let’s get going. I never want to see this place again.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Daria removed the thumb drive and secured it in the case again, hands trembling. Ryon could imagine what a monumental occasion this was for her, because it meant as much to him. Now Ben at least had a chance. She zipped the pack, logged off the computer, and turned to him.
“I can’t wait to see the government come down on his ass like a bad case of clap.”
A deep, taunting laugh reverberated against the walls, startling them both. August Bradford stepped into the office and flipped on the lights, a pistol trained on them.
Oh, Jesus.
Ryon froze and Daria pressed herself to his side. He didn’t dare glance at her. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. Swallowing his sickness and anger, he met his enemy’s black gaze without flinching.
August was a handsome man, with few lines on his face to hint at his age. He carried himself tall and straight, and wore an expression of faint amusement. He looked and acted the part of a spoiled, entitled man who must have very much enjoyed playing God along with Malik and Bowman.
“They wouldn’t be the first ones to try, dearest niece.” August looked from her back to Ryon, his smile chilling, voice dripping with meaning. “Place your weapons on the floor, nice and slow.”
They did, keeping their hands in sight, then straightened. Ryon didn’t respond right away, but took in the rest of August’s appearance. He was dressed in blue silk pajamas, his hair shooting in several directions, mussed from sleep. They’d surprised him, which might work in their favor. The fact that the guards hadn’t followed on his heels meant he had yet to alert them. That might prove their only chance for escape.
“You might want to play nice with us, old man,” Ryon said flatly.
“All right, I’ll bite. Why would I want to play nice?”
“Because we just sent all of your files to an arm of the government that is very interested in stamping out every last trace of the heinous experiments you were involved in with Gene Bowman and the Unseelie, Malik, whom you knew was masquerading as rich entrepreneur Evan Kerrigan.”
Though the man maintained his smile, it tightened noticeably. “The government, you say? Well, there was your first mistake.”
“Now I’ll bite. How so?”
August cocked his head, studying Ryon. “You’re a shifter. Cat? Wolf?”
He saw no reason to lie. “Wolf.”
“Made, not born.”
“Yes.” He exchanged a quick look of confusion with Daria. Where was this going?
“Since you’re with an arm of the government, as you put it, I’ll assume it’s black ops. Am I correct in also assuming you were military before you were turned?”
“Navy SEAL,” he admitted, a cold ball forming in his stomach. This man was getting at something very bad, and they were about to learn what. “So, what does any of that mean?”
“Ah, Ryon Hunter, you’ve been wondering that for years, haven’t you?” August almost whispered, a clever light in his eyes.
A cold shock went through him. “How do you know my name? What are you trying to say?”
“Must I do all the work here? Connect the dots, boy. Haven’t you and your fellow SEALs who were attacked in Afghanistan and turned six years ago wondered why?”
Ryon stared at the man, his heart pounding in dread.
August chuckled, stepping closer. “Why did you all survive, when so many others died? How is it that a group of human men, each with Psy powers unbeknownst to the others, ended up in the same unit? How did it happen that they were attacked that day, thousands of miles from home, and no one but the men with the Psy abilities survived the slaughter? At some point, each of your team must have wondered why, why, why.”
Ryon groaned as the full import hit, and he nearly collapsed. “Mother of God. It’s true. We were set up.”
“Yes, young wolf. You were set up from the very beginning, down to the last man.” Glancing at the computer they’d hacked, he shook his head. “You might be able to help my niece’s hapless former fiancé, but in the end it won’t matter. Where do you think all of the information you’ve gone to so much trouble to obtain will go? In whose hands will it finally rest?”
“Someone high up,” he said desperately. “Someone who’ll stop you, maybe put you behind bars for the things you’ve done.”
August studied him for a long moment. Then he spoke quietly. “Did your team honestly think that Malik and Bowman were the end of the line? That we could possibly have put in place an operation of such a large scale without someone high up, as you say, calling the shots?”
“No,” Ryon whispered. “I won’t believe it.”
“Believe what you will. Malik had his own agenda and his own God complex. But the truth is, the tentacles of this thing go all the way to the top. To the fucking Oval Office. Are you following me, boy? It’s not one person, but several in key positions of power in the United States government.”