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At the far end of the table, Gabrielle laughed. “Lucan will never admit that he’s looking forward to having a baby in the compound, but I have it on good authority that five bucks was placed on December twentieth recently.”

“Is there something special about that date?” Je

“It’s Lucan’s birthday,” Elise said, sharing Gabrielle’s humor. “And Tegan put a hundred dollars on February fourth, knowing full well it was much too late to be in the ru

“February fourth,” Sava

Elise’s smile was tender with memories, bittersweet. “The night that Tegan found me hunting Rogues in Boston and tried to put a stop to it.”

Dylan reached out and squeezed the other Breedmate’s hand. “And the rest, as they say, is history.”

As the chatter of small, everyday things gave way to more serious talk of pursuing leads and formulating new mission strategies, Je

A thought struck Je

She wanted to see the Order defeat Dragos, and there was a part of her—a very determined part—that wanted to have a hand in making that happen.

Je

“That’s good,” Renata said. “We’re going to need all the help we can get. Unfortunately, Dylan and I have run into a slight snag on Sister Margaret.”

“She’s living in a home for retired nuns down in Gloucester,” Dylan interjected. “I spoke to the administrator, and told her that my mom and Sister Margaret used to work together at the women’s shelter in New York. I didn’t mention what we were really looking for, of course. Instead I set it up as a personal call, and asked if it would be possible to visit with the sister sometime and chat about her years of volunteer work—maybe reminisce a bit about my mom. The good news is, Sister Margaret loves having company.”

“So, what’s the snag?” Je

“Dementia,” Renata replied.

Dylan nodded. “Sister Margaret’s been suffering from it for the past couple of years. The house admin said there’s a good chance she might not remember much about my mom or her work at the shelter.”

“But it’s still worth a try, right?” Je

More than one head turned with surprise in her direction. If any of the Order’s women thought it strange that she was including herself in their efforts to locate the missing Breedmates, none of them said a word about it.

Sava

It was that easy acceptance, that sense of kindness and community she’d felt from each of these special women from the first day she awoke, that put a knot of emotion in Je

“All right. Let’s get to work,” Dylan said after a moment. “There’s a lot to be done.”





One by one, they all went back to their tasks, some reviewing open file folders, others taking up positions in front of the war room’s many computer workstations. Je

She had almost forgotten her message to her friend in the FBI Division Office in Anchorage, but as soon as she accessed the email site, she saw the reply waiting in her in box. She clicked the message and quickly sca

“Uh, you guys,” she said, feeling a little jolt of excitement and triumph as she read her friend’s reply. “You know how you’ve been trying to get some intel on TerraGlobal Partners?”

“Dragos’s corporate front,” Dylan said, already coming over to see what Je

Alex and the other women were close behind her. “What’s going on, Jen?”

“We’re not the only ones interested in TerraGlobal.” Je

Sava

“According to my friend, it’s a relatively new one. It’s being headed up by someone in their New York office.”

Gabrielle gave Je

The evening was only half over, but already he considered it a triumphant success.

In the dark of his private helicopter, Dragos smiled with deep satisfaction as his pilot guided the sleek aircraft away from the twinkling winter landscape of the busy capital city below and out over the dark water of the Atlantic, heading north, toward the second of his scheduled appearances tonight. He could hardly wait to arrive, anticipation for still another victory making his blood run faster in his veins.

For some time now, he had been cultivating his most useful allies, gathering his assets in preparation for the war he intended to wage, not only against his own kind—complacent, impotent cowards who deserved to be trampled under his boot—but also against the world at large.

Tonight’s private receptions were crucial to his goals, and only the begi

Very soon, he thought, chuckling to himself with eager glee.

“How long before we touch down in Manhattan?” he asked his Minion pilot.

“Fifty-two minutes, Master. We are right on schedule.”

Dragos grunted his approval and relaxed into his seat for the remainder of the flight. He might have been tempted to call the evening flawless, if not for one small aggravation that stuck stubbornly in his craw—a bit of a

Evidently some lowly desk jockey working for the Feds in Alaska was sniffing around in his business affairs, making inquiries about TerraGlobal Partners. For that, he blamed the Order. No doubt, it wasn’t every day that a mining company—fake or otherwise—went up in a hellish ball of flames, as his little operation in the Alaskan interior had done at the hands of Lucan’s warriors.

Now Dragos had the added irritation of having to contend with some public servant gas bag or environmental do-gooder trying to advance a career by going after a villainous corporation for God knew what offense.