He pocketed the phone with Dragos still on the line and started patting her down. He found the titanium blade right away, pulled it from behind her with a smug sneer and shoved it beneath the leather belt of his cop's uniform. His hands were rough on her, skimming both legs and thighs before climbing up her torso. He lingered a bit too long around her br**sts, and Tavia growled her disapproval, showing him a bit of fang in the process.
The Minion backed off and put his cell phone up to his mouth. "She's clean. What would you like me to do with her, Master?"
Dragos's voice was menacing, edged with an intrigue that made her skin crawl. "Hold the female there. Await my further instructions."
"THE NUMBER of confirmed dead worldwide is in the thousands."
Lucan nodded as Mathias Rowan delivered the sober news that morning at his Darkhaven.
The Order had finally sought shelter there after the long night of combat. Not even Dragos's evil could trump the rising sun. With daybreak, all of the Breed - warrior, civilian, and Rogue alike - were forced to look for cover.
In the background, Tegan, Chase, and the rest of the warriors were flipping through television coverage of the attacks and their aftermath. It seemed impossible, not only the accounts of widespread slaughter and destruction over the past eighteen hours but the open talk by human law enforcement and government officials about the indisputable existence of vampires.
And mankind had, understandably, deemed them their enemies.
Savage.
Monstrous.
A deadly scourge that required a focused and swift extermination.
Lucan saw Mira's vision in the graphic video coverage and photographs being broadcast all over the world. He'd lived it last night, when his boots had been soggy with spilled blood, the bodies of dead humans and slain Rogues spread out as far as his eyes could see. He tasted it now, in the bitter tang of regret on his tongue, regret that he hadn't put a stop to Dragos before he'd unleashed such hell. Regret for the fact that the nightmare had only just begun.
Europe was bracing for nightfall again, calling in military forces to help secure the largest cities in case of another attack. Everyone was praying it wouldn't come, but Lucan and the rest of the Order knew it would. Although none of the warriors or Mathias Rowan had said as much, they had to be wondering, as he was, how they would be able to combat another attack of the magnitude seen yesterday.
They were roughly a dozen gathered here against hundreds loose on two continents. Twenty against hundreds, if they counted Rowan and the handful of Agents he'd vouched for, good men who'd immediately pledged themselves to the cause. A scant few more overseas, headed up by Reichen. But the Order and their new allies couldn't be everywhere at once. They would need ten times their current number to eradicate the freed Rogues before they took more innocent lives.
Before the humans decided to go on the offense.
"Are the curfews in place?" Lucan asked. With the humans in a state of terror and suspicion, no Breed male would be permitted to feed while the Rogues still posed a threat. To mankind right now, there was no distinction between a law-abiding Breed civilian and a Rogue. For the safety of all the Breed, Lucan had demanded that Darkhavens comply with a nighttime lockdown until further notice.
Rowan gave him a dubious look. "We're doing our best to get the word out, but it's a slow process with most of the Agency infrastructure shut down since the first attacks."
"Keep on it," Lucan told him. "We've got our hands full enough without having to worry about civilians getting caught in the crossfire."
As for the Enforcement Agency, it had virtually disintegrated overnight. Communications had gone dark. Dragos's hidden network of followers - including two known Agency directors, one in Seattle, another in Europe - had come out from the shadows to openly proclaim their allegiance to him and his goals. Countless other Agency personnel had defected too, either to place their bets on Dragos or to withdraw from service altogether and focus on seeing their families through this dark time.
Lucan's heart was several hours north, with Gabrielle. He worried for her and the rest of the Breedmates and the children, alone with Gideon through all of this unrest and chaos. He had no doubt that Gideon would keep them safe, but it killed Lucan to be away from his mate when her deep anxiety rode him like spurs. All of the warriors were sober today, contemplative.
Especially Chase.
Lucan felt for him probably the most right now. The warrior stood alone at the back of the room, stoic and controlled, a marked change from the male who'd been so volatile in recent months. Reckless and insubordinate. A liability to his patrol partners and himself.
There was little left of that Chase in the cool, capable warrior who'd fought side by side with him last night, despite all the blood that was spilled. It had been a testing, taxing night for all of them, but Chase in particular. Yet he'd stood strong. He hadn't broken. Nor would he, Lucan guessed, meeting the warrior's clear, focused gaze across the room now.
Chase's eyes were steady, filled with a steely determination.
A single-minded, unflinching purpose that gave Lucan a glimpse of the leader Sterling Chase had been born to be. The leader he could be again one day in the future, if any of them survived to see that future arrive.
Lucan inclined his head, an approving nod that said more than he could have managed with any amount of words.
Chase nodded back, sober, understanding.
Lucan was proud to have Harvard on the Order's side again. Proud to be able to call Sterling Chase his brother and his friend.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
JENNA HUNG UP THE PHONE and leaned back in her chair. Even though her heart was banging with adrenaline over the news she'd just heard, a heavy weariness settled over her like lead anvils perched on her shoulders.