Page 105 of Hunted

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TWENTY MINUTES LATER, WE WERE SEATED in the lavish formal tent where Ellie and I had been enjoying our reception only moments before. We’d moved some of the tables to the side to make room. Despite passing a weapons check, I wanted to be able to see everyone’s hands.

The two agents were seated directly across from me in the semi-circle of chairs we’d set up. Vlad and Rowan were to their left. August sat on the other side, laptop out, scanning the surveillance feed for the ranch. Brody paced, clearly on edge. My mother was a wraith hovering in the background, lovely in a silver dress the color of moonlight, eyes ever alert. Like Brody, she didn’t trust their story. For that matter, neither did I.

I could read minds, check for obvious deception. But it was possible even to deceive neural manipulators with enough practice. Some people knew how to lie even to themselves.

“You said you wanted to talk. Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we?”

Agent Thompson leaned forward, her dark ponytail falling over one shoulder. “We’ve been attempting to contact Guillermo Montemayor for the past three weeks. Do you know where he can be reached?”

“Alek assumed control of the Tracers almost eleven months ago,” I said pleasantly. “As Alpha, he’s the one you would want to talk to regarding any Tracer business.”

“We need to speak to your uncle.”

“Then you’ll need to tell me what it’s regarding.”

Special Agent Liu’s mouth thinned. “Perhaps it might be better if we spoke with you. We have reason to believe Guillermo Montemayor may be compromised in this area anyway. It seems that concerning new intelligence has surfaced regarding Matteo Rossi. We, the Paranormal Investigation Division that is, need your help.”

Brody didn’t react. August’s typing sped up fractionally before his fingers quickly evened out to the same words per minute they had been slamming out before, but through his outward mask of indifference, I read the computer screen along with him as he opened new tabs and began checking the alerts he had set to notify him if there were any patterns in disappearances, deaths, unexplained occurrences or violence that could suggest Matteo Rossi had resurfaced. My mother began a series of deep breathing exercises, stretching her mind out, reaching as far across the ranch’s vast boundary as she could go.

“Intelligence has surfaced.” I leaned forward, pretending to mull over the statement. “Interesting choice of words. Matteo Rossi is a black ops soldier operating under the command of the U.S. military. If he survived the fall from the dam eleven months ago, why wouldn’t he immediately have made his way back to base and reported in to his superiors?”

“And why after using Rossi as a weapon to terrorize shifter and vampire communities for the past two years, including my pack and my family,” added Brody, “do you think there’s a snowball’s chance in hell we’d help you?”

“Because Rossi has gone rogue, which I’m sure you’ve probably already guessed.” When none of us seemed the slightest bit surprised at the news, Special Agent Liu continued. “I want you to know that I personally regret that our division did not come forward with the truth about what was happening sooner. We were under strict orders to keep silent about Rossi and the threat that he posed, and that decision was made way above our paygrade.”

I’d suspected for some time that Rossi didn’t have the backing of the government, that he’d been acting as an insurgent, trying to create enough discord that he could take over the North American werewolves. His combat tactics had changed from well-orchestrated attacks supported by elite military personnel to terrorist bombings—the actions of a rogue actor living off the grid in apartments he’d probably seized by force from vulnerable persons.

“Define gone rogue,” I said. “Do you know where he is?”

“Not at this time. But our intelligence channels suggest he may be trying to recruit former military washouts. Over three dozen recently discharged servicemen that we can account for have disappeared in the past month alone. And we suspect there may be more.”

“He’s building an army.” An army of newly-turned werewolves he would change himself every full moon and control as drones. Just what we needed.

“An army that size won’t be easy to hide,” August pointed out, fingers flying across the keys as he spoke, no doubt changing his search parameters. “Werewolves have a very high metabolism. He’ll need food and some place to contain them. He won’t be able to control them twenty-four hours a day. At some point he’ll have to sleep.”

“So let’s get this straight.” I rose, pacing before the agents. “You believe the effects of Blackout have worn off, and the Paranormal Investigation Division now acknowledges that Rossi is mentally unstable and a threat. Why come to us?”

The agents exchanged a look. “We have authorization from the President to ask that your pack eliminate Matteo Rossi.”

“You’ve already been to the Tracers?”

“We want you, specifically.” Special Agent Liu flicked a glance nervously to where my mother had stood moments before by the cake stand, jumping nearly out of his chair upon finding her standing behind him. He swallowed. “We want your family. It’s fine if you wish to operate in cooperation with the Tracers. But we know about the bloodline connection between Rossi and Guillermo Montemayor. And we know that your uncle disappeared almost a month ago and hasn’t been heard from since. You have just as much interest in finding Rossi as we do. With all due respect to the Tracers, we aren’t convinced that anyone else out there is capable of taking Matteo Rossi down.”

August stopped typing. Vlad had gone very still. Creepy undead still. If his brother hadn’t nearly drowned trying to save me in that river, I would have wondered if vampires really needed to breathe.

“So now the President of the United States wants Rossi eliminated and she wants the Blood Moon pack to do it,” I said in a low voice. “Kill our cousin.”

“You were trying to kill him before. What’s the problem?”

“That greeting card just sort of writes itself,” Vlad muttered under his breath.

I stared the agents down. “You have no idea what sort of monster you’ve created. Rossi could grab the nuclear launch codes from the minds of any general in command at NORAD. Hell, he could just compel them to launch the missiles. You honestly think if he puts the President’s eight-year-old daughter into a vegetative state, that her response is going to be we don’t negotiate with terrorists?”

“We’re aware of the scope of the problem. In exchange for apprehending Rossi, the President is willing to publicly sign off on the legislation currently proposed that would offer full protections for U.S. citizens infected with the lycan virus. It would add werewolves as a protected class unable to be discriminated against in the workplace, when applying for housing, or in the school system.”

“That legislation died in the senate,” Brody interrupted. “There weren’t enough votes to push it through.”