Page 139 of Hunted

‘Mm-hm.’

I hear the grin in it.

At the lift, she peels away towards her apartment with Aaron lingering long enough to ensure she reaches the private corridor, while Malachi and I continue towards the war room levels.

The restless energy of the Twelve rises the lower we go.

Questions. Demands. Unease.

And beneath all of it, a second urgency waits for me like a blade laid neatly on a table.

Rafael Navarro.

My blood brother.

If he is the scent I caught in that alley, then whatever game has begun in New York is no longer confined to shadows and hired knives.

It is family.

And family, in our world, has always been the bloodiest kind of war.

The remaining Twelve are waiting when I enter the meeting chamber below the Tower.

Malachi stands at the head, severe elegance and controlled displeasure, a watchful Aaron to his right.

Luca Vieri, broad-shouldered and spoiling for sanctioned violence, looks ready to start a war on principle.

The others hold their silence, but the room hums with sharpened questions.

Malachi speaks first. ‘Sire, this task you’re handing to the hunter. Is that wise?’

My jaw clenches at the jealousy beneath the discipline. Old familiarity sharpened by resentment. Malachi has never forgotten where the line once blurred, the thunder-tossed night I took him to my bed centuries ago. I have never forgotten why it could not remain so.

‘Watch your tongue,’ I say softly.

The chamber stills.

Aaron intervenes before I decide whether to make an example of him. ‘We all sensed it in the alley. Old blood. Navarro.’

Every gaze shifts to me.

I do not insult them with denial. ‘Yes. That is what I scented too.’

Luca curses. ‘Then permit me to take a team to Chicago and tear his head off.’

Despite myself, my mouth almost curves. ‘Calm down, pup. All in good time.’

Luca bows his head, but barely. ‘As you command.’

Malachi’s eyes remain on mine. ‘Why would Navarro breach sacred agreement? And why is any of this connected to Lyra Hannigan?’

I look at them, my Twelve, my blood, the men who built the shadowed spine of my city, and recognise with belated irritation that delay now will cost me trust.

I unbutton my shirt.

The mark pulses under the chamber lights.

Shock ripples through them in cold waves as they take it in.