Subject: Year 2Report: Subject experienced chance sighting of mother in lab; subject emotional, inconsolable when refused contact by Minion handlers; incident resulted in damage to lab equipment, further defiance exhibited in subjectDetermination: For benefit of subject training, potential future distraction must be eliminatedAction: Mother terminated; effective immediately, program process modified to prohibit interaction between future subjects and mothers; subjects to be provided for solely by Minion handlers Corinne's eyes were too wet to read any more. She set the record of Dragos's madness away from her, giving it a hard, hate-filled shove. Hunter's voice was wooden beside her. "I killed my mother, Corinne." The words were flat and emotionless, even while a couple of tears strayed, wholly ignored by him, down his rigid face.
"You didn't do any such thing." As tenderly as she dared, Corinne reached out and swept her thumb through the tracks of moisture dripping toward his tightly held jaw. She caressed his flushed cheek, her heart cracked wide open, raw and aching for this man. "Dragos did this terrible thing, not you."
"My mother is dead because of me, Corinne. Because I loved her."
There was such a depth of regret in his eyes, she could hardly find the words to offer him comfort. Nothing she said could take away the hurt he must be feeling. Loss left pain in its wake, no matter how distant the void.
Corinne knew firsthand how soulless Dragos was, so it should have come as no surprise to learn that he'd considered an innocent child's natural bond to his mother to be a weakness. A flaw in his sadistic program that could be corrected with a single, final action. That Hunter was left holding the pieces now, after all this time, certain that he was to blame, made her want to rip out Dragos's black, diseased heart with her fingernails and crush it in her fist.
Instead she gathered Hunter into her embrace and nestled his big body against her. She kissed the top of his head and petted him gently, she the unlikely protector, her arms the shelter that held this powerful male as he fell into a still and heavy silence in the cradle of her lap.
"You did nothing wrong," she assured him. "Loving someone is never wrong."
Chapter Twenty-eight
It had started snowing in Boston that evening just after dark. Dime-size flakes carried on the cold December breeze, melting against Chases's cheeks and dampening the top of his head. He stared through the dripping strands of hair that hung into his eyes, watching the bustle of incoming and outgoing service vans making final deliveries to the pricey North Shore estate of Senator Robert Clarence.
He didn't know precisely how he'd ended up lurking in the shadows across the street from the young politician's house. Like the Bloodlust that was nipping at his heels, Chase's innate curiosity would not leave him alone, despite the fact that he had no real reason to give a shit about the swanky party evidently taking place later that night.
Apparently, it was the social event of the season, based on the parade of caterers and linen rentals alone. A twelve-piece string and horn ensemble had been unloading their equipment through the back of the house when Chase arrived. The twenty-plus uniformed cops and grimfaced Secret Service detail on post at strategic locations all over the grounds had taken everything up a notch.
Chase eyed the men in their brush-cuts and black suits. Bobby Clarence was a political star on the rise, but the government-issued protection wasn't there because of him. They were too numerous and too obvious to be assigned to anything less than a top D.C. official. Chase's memory prickled with a bit of worthless campaign trivia he'd been unable to avoid hearing more than once during the human's run for his seat in the Senate. He'd been endorsed by none other than the vice president, who'd waxed rhapsodic about the brilliant university student who had impressed his toughest professor with a combination of integrity and good old Yankee sensibility. And now that Chase was thinking about it, a grave suspicion began to settle over him. Dragos hadn't hidden the fact from his followers that he had some interest in Senator Clarence, but what if he had his eye on someone already in a position of even greater power?
"Jesus Christ," Chase muttered, low under his breath. What if some of those cops shuffling around the grounds of the estate were Minions that belonged to Dragos? What was to stop Dragos from using this kind of gathering to further his own schemes?
Chase's old instincts fired up with a warning he couldn't ignore. Something bad was going down at this party tonight; he could feel it in his bones. The senator or his VIP guest -
good God, maybe both of them - were in danger here. Chase would bet his life on it, not that it was worth much these days.
With dread raking him even deeper than his blood thirst, Chase called on his Breed genetics to carry him onto the grounds and past the cops and Secret Service detail posted outside. He was just a cold breeze, an eddy of snowflakes dancing in his wake, as he slipped inside the house through the back door to the kitchen.
No sooner had he gone inside than two more black suits came around the corner. Chase ducked into the walk-in pantry, going utterly silent, utterly still, as the pair of Secret Service men walked right past the very spot where he would have been standing. One of them gave the all-clear for the second floor over his Bluetooth comm device, then launched into a discussion with his companion about last night's college football game. Chase let out his breath as the armed men exited the house to join up with the detail in the yard. He started to head for the pantry door but stopped abruptly when it swung inward, almost crashing into him.
"Did you check for the red wine in here, Joe?" A young woman entered the pantry, her head turned over her shoulder as she spoke to someone outside the large pantry. She wore a longsleeved, high-collared gown of crushed burgundy velvet that clung like a lover to her tall, athletic frame. A mane of wavy, caramel-brown hair swished about her shoulders as she pivoted around and stepped inside. "Ah! Here it is - two more cases of Pinot Noir, just where I thought they'd be."