Page 125 of Bonds of Hate

I roll my eyes at Ares, who shrugs in response. All Alphas aren’t created equal, apparently. It’s an eye, not one of his balls. This reaction is just embarrassing.

“You don’t need your eyes to tell us what we need to know,” Ares reminds him gently. “We’ll have to cut out your other one, along with as many of your fingers and toes as it takes, if that’s the persuasion you need.”

I feel compelled to point out, “Doesn’t really need his dick, either.”

“It was all done through intermediaries. The man who hired me died in the palace,” Oscar babbles, frantically trying to lean away from the knife that I wave in front of his face. He squints up at us through his now one good eye. “I don’t know who hired him, just that it was someone powerful!”

Ares shifts to the man’s other side, looming in his narrowed field of vision. “Unfortunately, that’s just not good enough. Give us information we can use if you want this to end.”

I finesse the blade to just barely slice his still-seeing eye, just enough to hurt and make his vision blur.

“I have an address!” Oscar says with a high-pitched shriek. “A dead drop for our payment after the job was done.”

Ares types intently on his tablet as the mercenary dutifully recites the address and repeats it for clarification whenhe asks.

“Thank you,” Ares tells him sincerely. “I appreciate how helpful you’ve been.”

I wait for the look of hope to light up in the mercenary’s eyes, the moment he convinces himself that we might actually spare him.

Then I slit his throat from one ear to the other.

Ares steps back with a curse to avoid the spray of blood. “Fuck, how about a warning? This is one of my favorite shirts.”

“Sorry,” I reply, absolutely unrepentant. I use a cloth to wipe off my knife before slipping it back in the holster on my thigh. “Feel free to head back to the apartment and change. You’ve got an Omega waiting for you, after all.”

His lip quirks at my tone.

“She’d be waiting for you too if you got your head out of your ass.” He waves his tablet in my face and pulls it away with a laugh when I lunge for it. “But it doesn’t matter because we’ve got somewhere to be.”

“I can handle this on my own.”

Ares gestures at the slumped over body, dripping blood onto the floor. “You could’ve handled this, but you called in your good cop, anyway. Let’s finish the job.”

I snatch the tablet away from him. “How do you know I’m not just planning to turn this information over to the proper authorities?”

“Because I’ve met you,” he replies drolly. “Going vigilante is pretty much your favorite thing.”

He’s right, but that isn’t the point. “You’re not coming.”

Ares gives me a smug smile. “More importantly, you don’tknow who in the palace might have been in on the attack, which is why you’re here with this carcass and not in the palace dungeon with an official order to extract information.”

I briefly consider pushing back. Leaving our prince and our Omega with only a beta to protect them feels like a bad idea. But the palace is still on lockdown, probably as safe as it’s ever going to get. And the longer we spend going back and forth, the colder this lead will get.

“Fine,” I snap. “But if we find the mastermind, he’s mine to dismember.”

Ares tightens the straps on his gun harness with a dark smile. “Not if I get to him first.”

The headlights of our SUV cut through the darkness as we wind down another unpaved road on the outskirts of the city. Abandoned farmhouses loom like rotting teeth against the night sky, their windows broken and walls crumbling from years of neglect.

“This can’t be right.” I tap the navigation screen, but the blue dot continues its steady progress toward our destination. “Who sets up a payment drop all the way out here? No one ever comes to the outlands. A bunch of mercenaries showing up with a suitcase full of credits would be conspicuous as hell.”

Ares shifts in the passenger seat, his bulk making the leather creak. “Someone who really doesn’t want to be found. These farms have been empty since the southern campaign. Perfect place to conduct business without witnesses.”

I brake hard as a piece of farm equipment appears suddenly in our path, rusted and half-buried in weeds. “Or the perfect place for an ambush.”

“That’s why you brought me along.” Ares pats the rifle case between his feet. “Take the next left. Should be an old dairy complex about half a mile down.”

The SUV’s suspension groans as we bounce over what used to be a cattle guard. Fields stretch endlessly on either side, the tall grass rippling silver in the moonlight. It reminds me of the war — nights spent crawling through similar terrain, hunting rebels who thought they could hide in plain sight.

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