Say anything. But she knew he couldn't, or wouldn't, change his mind. He was too honorable a man. And she loved him too much to try to make him bend his integrity just to satisfy her breaking heart. But God, it hurt to think of letting him go. Of possibly losing him forever. Grief and anger swamped her. She felt so confused and afraid... so alone already. Claire sank down onto the tile floor of the shower and let the hot water and steam engulf her. She closed her eyes and thought about how difficult it was going to be when he left with the warriors that night. Being at the compound to await his return would assuage some of the ache in her heart, but only until she considered that he would also be out there looking to have his battle with Roth. And if she added Dragos to that equation, too? She could hardly bear to imagine the outcome of a confrontation of that magnitude. But what could she do to prevent it? A small, desperate voice in the corner of her mind whispered that there was something. Something she hadn't yet considered.
Something so distasteful that it caused bile to rise in the back of her throat. She could go directly to Roth himself. Not for mercy because she knew he had none, particularly not now. Not where she or Andreas were concerned. But as certain as she was of that fact, she was also certain of just how deeply Wilhelm Roth despised losing. He had always been consumed with winning, even the most trivial of contests.
Would he be willing to accept the only thing she had left to offer him? Claire couldn't be sure unless she tried. Repulsed by what she was about to do, but feeling it was her last hope where Andreas was concerned, she leaned her head back and slowed her breathing. She was adept at putting herself into a swift sleep, but finding Roth--hoping that he might be sleeping too--was not quite as easy. She rode the tide away from consciousness and drifted toward the dream realm, searching, praying she would find Roth there. It took her several long minutes before she felt the edge of his dreaming mind through the veil of slumber. Ice formed in her stomach as she moved toward him, ignoring every instinct inside her that screamed for her to flee in the other direction as fast as she could. She saw him in front of her now. He had his back to her, hastily making his way through what appeared to be some kind of earthen vault. Claire followed him in silence, formulating her desperate appeal. Ahead of him, a heavy door opened to let him pass. Claire slipped in behind him just as the thick stone panel swung closed. Roth was grumbling to himself low under his breath, unintelligible words filled with venom and frustration. Inside another room, this one more clinical than the primitive-looking anterior chamber, he stormed past a counter lined with microscopes, dishes, and beakers. As he neared the end of the long surface, he shot his hand out and swept a bunch of the equipment to the floor.
Claire gasped as glass crashed and shattered in front of her. "What the f**k--" Roth wheeled around. When he saw her there, his cruel eyes narrowed and he laughed, a brittle, dangerous rumble in the back of his throat. "Well, well. If it isn't my faithless bitch of a Breedmate." She didn't let his verbal slap hurt her. "We need to talk, Wilhelm. You and I need to come to some kind of agreement before things go any further between you and Andreas." Now he chortled in true amusement. "Let me guess. He sent you here to appeal to my mercy? My sense of honor?" "He didn't send me, no. He doesn't even know I'm here." When his brow quirked with curiosity, she forged on. "I've come to ask you to stay away from Andreas. Drop your animosity for him--and for me--and let Andreas move on with his life." Roth scoffed.
"You can't be serious." "I am," Claire said. "And I'm willing to offer you everything I have to secure your word right here and now. I will come back to you, Wilhelm. Do whatever you want to me--take your hatred for him out on me, I don't care anymore. Just leave him alone. Please." His eyes went narrow as blades, cutting her with their malice. "Are you truly so naive, Claire? I could care less about him," he said, utterly devoid of emotion. "You either, for that matter." Hope kindled, dim but promising. But then Wilhelm Roth let loose with a terrible laugh that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "It's never been about you, Claire.
Didn't you know that? Didn't you ever suspect? You were just a prize I wanted because it would mean taking something precious away from him. Destroying his Darkhaven and the people closest to him was a pleasure I hadn't anticipated. One I relished, nevertheless." "You're sick, Wilhelm." Her stomach twisted with contempt. "My God. You really are a monster." "And you, Claire, are already dead to me," he whispered, his voice an airless growl that chilled her to the bone. "You and Andreas are both already dead. You just don't know it yet. You are obstacles standing in the way of greatness, and you will be removed. You and the Order, as well." "Is that your promise to Dragos?" she asked woodenly "How long have you been doing his evil for him?" Roth smiled maliciously at her disgust. "Our revolution began even before I made the misjudgment of taking you as my mate. I should never have bothered wasting time on you, no matter how much it pleased me to know what I had taken from you and Reichen both. It might have been just as gratifying to me had I farmed you off to Dragos with the other females I sent to him over the years." Claire struggled to make sense of what he was saying. Other females. Roth was sending females--did he mean Breedmate females?--to Dragos. For what purpose, she wondered, but only needed to guess for another moment. From out of the ether of the dream, a wall of barred cells appeared. Dank, lightless, terrible prisons. And within them were captive women. Breedmates. Claire could see the teardrop-and-crescent-moon birthmark on a few of them even from where she stood. The same birthmark she bore. The same birthmark that denoted a human female capable of bonding with a Breed male and bearing his young. Good lord, there were upward of twenty women caged in those cells. Her stomach roiled even more miserably to see that some of them were pregnant.