"Where?"
"Somewhere safe."
His dread about the Order closing in on him was still very real and disturbing. And the prospect of either a stealth death squad or, after last night's turn of events, a full-scale invasion was more than he was willing to risk. A sick guilt weighed down on him when he thought of Candice and Doc and Nina coming under heavy weapons fire amid the chaos of a raid. As for Mira, he knew his Breedmate well enough to realize that she would fight to her own death if she thought she could save him.
As he would for her.
And would, in a short time from now.
He hadn't been much of a leader to his crew of rebels, not that it had ever been his intent to lead them. He hadn't been anything close to a worthy mate to Mira either, and that he wanted more than anything.
But he still had time to do right by them all. He could put measures in place that would ensure a minimum risk of injury or bloodshed to his Breedmate and his friends. Only then would he be ready to do what he needed to do - confront the fate that waited for him at the other end of this increasingly inescapable path.
His plan took shape with resolute clarity as he took Mira's hand in his, stroking his fingers over the perfectly healed heart of her palm. "We'll leave as soon as possible this morning."
She frowned up at him. "In the daylight?"
"As soon as we can," he reiterated. Now that he knew what needed to be done, he wanted the plan in motion. "Nina has friends who can get us a vehicle, no questions asked. I'll ride in back, out of the sun's reach. One of my crew can do the driving. We can be there in a few hours."
Mira was staring at him, a question in her muted gaze. "You're taking me with you?"
"I want you safe," he said, lifting her chin to meet his kiss. "You're mine now, remember?"
"I'm yours." Her smile nearly broke his heart, it was so pure and trusting. She burrowed deep into the curve of his body, molding herself to him. "Don't let go, Kellan. Promise me you won't let go."
"I won't let go, Mouse." He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she snuggled tighter and her breathing slowed to a contented rhythm.
And in that moment, he was glad for the absence of her link into his emotions.
Because if she'd been bonded to him by blood, she would have understood no matter how much he wished he could keep that promise to her, before the next dawn, she would know it had been just a pretty lie.
Chapter Nineteen
BY NIGHTFALL, NO LESS THAN A DOZEN MEMBERS OF THE Order had descended upon Boston.
Nathan led a unit comprised of his team of three and Mira's squad, Bal, Torin, and Webb, who'd come in from Montreal to aid in her recovery. While Nathan and his crew scoured the old North End for leads on the rebels who held her, the other side of the city was getting a shakedown by Nikolai, along with Tegan, Hunter, and Rio, diverted from the D.C. headquarters and joined by Sterling Chase, director of the Boston command center.
To a man, they'd all vowed that dawn would not come without Mira being brought safely back into the fold of her family of the Order.
That pledge was cold water in Nathan's veins as he and Rafe Malebranche split off from Eli and Jax and Mira's three teammates, taking their search into establishments known to be friendly to rebels and their ilk. The club La Notte was their first stop, given that Rooster was a regular at the illegal arena there.
Nathan and Rafe walked in together, both warriors scanning the crowd. Upward of a hundred people were partying inside, clad mostly in black leather and heavy eyeliner, convulsing to the grinding pulse of an industrial rock band screaming about pain and betrayal onstage. Goth girls and punks, most of them human. All harmless clubbers. No sign of the criminal element Nathan was currently searching for.
As he and Rafe sliced through the churning throng, Nathan noticed La Notte's proprietor eyeing them with less than enthusiastic regard. Cassian broke away from a pair of attractive women easily a decade too young for him and strode toward Nathan. He was dressed like many of his patrons, in head-to-toe black leather and heavy lug-soled boots. Tonight his cropped hair was a crown of gelled spikes, his bright green eyes accentuated by dark brows, each pierced by a pair of tiny silver rings. A black stud was stuck through the tip of his tongue.
"Didn't realize my club was so popular with the Order," he drawled. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended."
Nathan hardly paid Cassian any attention. "Check the arena," he told Rafe.
As the warrior turned to carry out the order, Nathan continued to prowl the club at street level. Cassian was right at his heels. "The fights don't start for hours, warrior."
"We didn't come to watch your blood sport."
"No," Cassian replied, "from the look of you, I'd guess you were here to start some of your own. Wouldn't have anything to do with the hotheaded female from your operation, would it?"
Nathan had his hand clamped around the other male's throat before Cassian could take his next breath. "What do you know about her?"
Some of the proprietor's henchmen, including the cage fighter called Syn and a couple of others, emerged from out of nowhere and started closing in. Still caught tight in Nathan's grasp, Cassian dismissed his thugs with a glance and a subtle twitch of his head.
"He won't kill me," Cassian said. "He would've finished it by now if that were his intent."
Nathan was tempted, but intel was more crucial. "What do you know about Mira?"
By this time, Rafe had come back from downstairs. Nathan noticed his brother-in-arms from the corner of his eye. Skilled and deadly, Rafe had a blade in one hand, his other ready to draw the 9-mm semiauto holstered on his weapons belt.