Page 97 of Legacy of Chaos

“Which explains why the Horsemen haven’t been able to summon Reaver.” He gave a quick, dismissive shake of his head. “Well, it’s not our problem. But the Gehennaportalis. Are you sure it’s been destroyed?”

“According to Gabriel and Cyan, yes.”

“Thank God.” Kynan shifted his stance, relaxing slightly. “That could have been an apocalyptic disaster. I’ll inform the WCSG. They’ve been breathing down my neck for days.”

Stryke didn’t doubt that. Half the messages he was ignoring were from the Council.

“Don’t worry about contacting them,” Stryke said. “I have a feeling I’ll be talking to them within the hour.”

“Better you than me,” Kynan muttered. “How is Cyan?”

Cyan is…amazing.“She took today off to get some rest.”

“Good. And the project?”

“I haven’t talked to my people yet. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have an update.”

“Great. Thank you. Let’s schedule another meeting soon.”

“I’ll send you some potential dates.”

With a nod, Ky disconnected. Ten seconds later, Stryke took a call from The Aegis. After that, the WCSG called, just as he’d said they would. He spent an hour staring at four pompous dumbasses as they sat around a monstrous table and pounded him with questions.

What do you plan to do with the platform now that the danger is over?

Will you sell it back to the oil company?

Will you drill for oil yourself?

He had no idea. He’d barely had time to catch his breath, let alone consider the future of theSea Storm. One thing he knew for sure, though: He wasn’t selling the thing. It may never produce oil again, but its value could prove immeasurable, providing countless research opportunities. He already had his people hunting and recording new demon species that’d escaped the breach and analyzing a sample he’d taken of the fog.

He’d kept that information out of his briefing with the WCSG dumbasses.

He fielded a dozen more calls, turned as many more away, including a call from his uncle Eidolon, who probably wanted to ride his ass about the injections. But the thing was, he actually felt better. After being with Cyan, his body seemed to have done a reset. How much had he healed? He had no idea, but the energy boost, mental clarity, and general mood lift made it clear he was healthier than he’d been in a long time.

Sure, the last injection had made him a little dizzy, but only for a minute.

As he disconnected the last communication, a meeting with the CEO of China’s largest security company, a message popped up on his wrist comms.

From Cyan.

His heart thumped, and he sank into his chair, his skin flushing hot and his stomach fluttering oddly. Maybe the injections were affecting him more than he thought. He hated the sensation.

Sort of.

He’d never felt this before, and he loved experiencing new things. And truthfully…the sensation was maybe a little…pleasant.

Stryke, can we talk? How about I meet you at your place for dinner? I’ll bring the food.

It was funny because his first instinct should have been to say no. He liked to conduct all business on his terms. Setting the date, the time, the place, and the activity. Had the message been from anyone else, he’d have said he’d get back to them with options.

Instead, his instant reply reeked of desperation.

Hi, Cyan. That sounds great.

That sounds great?

Lame and desperate.

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