Page 142 of Echoes of War

“Eugenics has been controversial,” he interrupted, raising his palm to silence me. “Yes. But it works.”

“Until it doesn’t. History proves that as fact,” I hissed.

“Ah,” he stood, striding over and placing a finger over my lips. “But they did not possess the technology or the minds that we have in Covert Province. The minds that you have here, in Monterey.Minds like Reina. She’s good stock. You want proof of the validity of my work: well, there you have it.”

I fought off the urge to recoil. “She’s your daughter.”

“Two things can be true at once.”

Malachai chuckled behind me. I turned to glare at him, fear be damned. If I had to put up a fight here, I would.

“So Seth is …” I tried to make it all make sense. It just wasn’t clicking for me. He knew Seth was dead, knew Reina hated him. For as much as he talked about family, there were no obvious tells that it had any impact on his day-to-day.

“Wasan outlier. No experiment is perfect.”

I couldn’t hide my repulsion. “You’re sick.”

The sharp stench of blood was consuming my nostrils despite the biting aroma of the bourbon. They had more healers than any territory out there, but Ronan had still ordered them to neglect to heal those whose injuries, by Before standards, were too far gone. Regardless if they were left suffering until they succumbed to their injuries.

“I loved all my children,” his voice went soft, eyes distant. “But the mission I have here, this next phase in history, is more important than familiar attachments. Seth had his chance to prove he was worthy of this new world. Reina has her chance now. Just like your chance is now.”

I straightened my stance, taking a small sip from my glass, eyes holding his steady, ice-cold stare. “What do you want from me, Ronan?”

A big belly laugh came from behind me, making me jump. Ronan joined in, face reddening at my lack of observation of his end goal. “I want your compound, and I want it turned over peacefully. If that’s done, you all may keep your freedom, with conditions. After that is established, I want the promised cooperation of every settlement within your network. Not the Salem Network. I’m speaking of the one formed as you plannedan impressive, yet simultaneously disappointing, resistance with each and every one of your allies.”

Now I really did need a seat. “Anything else you want to add to Santa’s list?” I snarked.

“Don’t get smart with me, girl.” Ronan shattered the glass in his palm, not bothering to take in the blood now pouring from the cuts in his hand. “There is a level of authority within this deal. You keep your life because you present yourself as being valuable enough to do so. Eventually, everything valuable loses its shine.”

He paced back over to a bar cart, snatching another glass as he poured himself a drink. His eyes closed, the contents he just poured already cleared from the cup. Ronan turned back toward me, staring me over, judgment clear in his eyes. “You have knowledge of theotherpart of the deal, no? I presume my son at least got that part out before he lost his head, since you’re here.”

An odd sense of pity filled me. I felt sorry for Seth. He’d admired this man, clearly respected him to some extent, and this … this was how he spoke of him. “I do. Who are they?” I asked.

“In due time. Until then, there are more pressing requests you have to take on.”

“And the conditions you spoke of?” I questioned, not missing a beat.

“See that, Malachai? Sheisa smart girl,” Ronan humored. “He didn’t think you would be, said not to believe everything that comes down the pipeline. I begged to differ. You made quite the impression on my son. He wasn’t the same man who left me behind. Took some real work undoing all that free-thinking mess you spouted off. It takes an intelligent person to change a strong-willed individual at a molecular level. That or a little bit of torture. Or both. You believe in both methods, don’t you, General?”

He winked at me. Malachai chuckled at the gesture.That’s not possible. There should be no way Ronan should know about what took place in that room.A million questions flew through my mind.

“The conditions, Ronan,” I urged, willing myself to keep a brave face.

“What goes on in Monterey is none of my business as long as the resources I request are provided within a respectable time frame. You keep your sovereignty. Consider this a sort of tax.”

“That’s the point of sovereign nations, Ronan, there is no tax. To be sovereign we must be independent. Call it what it is, a territory. An extension without rights on the bigger scheme of things. Why do I get a feeling that by ‘resources’”—I motioned air quotes around the word—“You mean actual, literal, human beings?”

“Correct,” Malachai grumbled, shifting to Ronan’s side. “Problem?”

I wanted nothing more than to grind my finger into the obvious bullet hole on his shoulder that had barely healed. There was no other option. This is what would save my people—that needed to be my focus right now. Nothing else.

“None. As long as those resources don’t end up on the wrong side of one of your experiments,” I ground out. If there was one point I was willing to fight for, this was it. I would not subject my people to such a fate.

“Of course not.” A toothy grin took up his weathered face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That all?” I shifted back, the flight in me urging me to ignore the fight.

“Yes, you may go.”

---