Page 34 of Dark Rebel's Reckoning

Alfie stopped at a cell near the end, aimed his phone at the scanner, and the door swung open. "This is the less secure interrogation cell. We still have the Doomer vermin in the other one."

"I know," Max said as he walked in with the body and Anton. "I ran this place. Remember?"

"Right." Alfie rubbed the back of his neck. "You can have the post back today if you want. I hate it down here. Not because I hate the dungeon but because of the occupants we have right now. This is the lowest of the low. The most evil of them all."

After Max and Anton had deposited their burden on the cot, the hybrid briskly rubbed his hands together as if trying to scrub away whatever contamination had clung to him from the body bag. "Good luck with the interrogation," he said, stepping back.

Alfie and Max followed Anton out of the cell, locking the door behind them.

"Got a name for me to input in the system?" Alfie asked.

Max shook his head. "This monster is known as 'the Doctor.' At least, that's what everyone at the compound called him. We found no ID on him."

"The Doctor it is, then." Alfie made a note on his tablet. "I heard that you brought back four potential Dormants?"

The excitement in Alfie's voice made Max uncomfortable. "Cool your jets," he said. "They're barely more than children. The oldest is nineteen."

Alfie shrugged. "Nineteen is old enough. Any of them pretty?"

Max stared at him, taken aback by the callousness of the question. The truth was, he honestly hadn't noticed. He'd been so fixated on Kyra and distracted by Fenella's presence that he'd barely paid attention to the girls.

"They're traumatized young women, not dating prospects," he said. "The poor things were cared for by Jade, Drova, and the other female warriors—not exactly the motherly or caring types. I didn't spend time assessing their appearance other than to scan for injuries."

Alfie raised his hands in surrender. "I was just curious. Don't be so touchy. We all deal with rescued trafficking victims, so you don't need to remind me that they are vulnerable right now. It's just that potential Dormants are a big deal."

"I know." Max let out a breath. "I'm just dirty, tired, and cranky."

Alfie nodded in understanding. "How did it go? I know that everyone came back in one piece, but I heard that Yamanu and Drova got hit."

"They did. Yamanu is as good as new, but Drova will take a while to heal. The Kra-ell are the best fighters I've ever seen, but they are more vulnerable to physical harm than we are."

Alfie leaned against the desk in the cell that had been turned into their command office. "How did the kid do other than get injured?"

"She was great. The girl's got a bright future on the force." He leaned against the wall, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. "All the Kra-ell were incredible. They were like a well-oiled killing machine. You should have seen them tear through theDoomers. Unstoppable, and that includes the females. They are scary."

"Wish I could have been there," Alfie said. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah. They are good to have around when things get tough." Max pushed off from the wall. "I'm dying for a shower and clean clothes. I'm heading upstairs to the apartment."

"Need anything else before you head up?"

Max shook his head. "I'm good. Thanks for the help."

As he walked back to the elevator, he suddenly felt all the exhaustion from the past few days settling over him. He hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane, and he could smell himself, which was gross.

When he got upstairs, the living room of the Guardians' apartment was thankfully empty, and his room was exactly as he'd left it. His bed was made, and everything was in its place.

Max liked his space clean and well organized.

Stripping off his filthy clothing, he dropped it into the hamper to wash later and turned on the water in the shower.

As the water heated, steam gradually filling the enclosure, Max's thoughts drifted to Kyra. The moment he'd placed the pendant in her hands, the pure joy that had transformed her face—he would fight a dozen more battles just to see that again.

He stepped under the spray, letting the scalding water wash away the reminders of the battle. If only emotional baggage could be so easily cleansed. Kyra would have her own demons to face and memories to process. He would need to be patient and resist his natural aggressiveness.

Max wasn't a patient guy, and women usually liked his no-nonsense, direct approach sweetened with a bit of charm. But Kyra wasn't like the women he usually went for. She needed time and space to heal, to reconnect with her daughter, and to find her footing in her new reality.

He would be there, offering friendship and support, making his interest clear but without pressure. And if—when—she was ready for more, he'd be there to fulfill her wishes.

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