Page 18 of Pride
Alice cleared her throat and stood. “How did you find us?”
“I must admit,” he said, eyes skating to the whiteboard. “I thought you’d make the hunt a little harder, but you led me straight here.”
He gave a pointed look at Alice’s shoes. She’d found them beside the bed after she’d wriggled out of the rope. She checked her soles and saw a little flashing device stuck in the instep. Her jaw clenched as she picked it off and flicked it at him. It bounced off his pectoral and landed on the floor.
Parker’s lips curved slightly as he pulled a piece of paper off the whiteboard. He studied it for a moment before dropping it and moving to the next note.
They could all kill him on the spot, and he didn’t care. What the hell was wrong with this man? Was he that arrogant?
“So,” the Rev said, “since you neglected to bring the cavalry, and we’re all still alive, I take it you’re agreeing to this alliance.”
Every Sinner in the room shot eyes to the Rev, affronted at her ease in assuming the Sinners would have gone down with an easy fight if Parker had, indeed, brought his family to kill them.
“No,” he replied, still studying the board. “It simply means I’m taking Alice back with me, and I wanted to see what you had on us before doing so.”
He spoke as though talking about a recalcitrant escaped puppy, not an assassin. He dropped another piece of research to the ground before turning back to meet the Rev’s eyes. “Your mission has always been to either kill us or to have us work for you. It’s too late to kill us, and we won’t work for you, so I’m taking Alice with me. You can go to whatever fucked up location you normally work out of because”—he surveyed the basement with distaste—“I don’t believe for a second this is it.”
“What’s stopping us from killing you now?” Mercy asked, palming a dagger that had found its way into her hand, probably from her boot.
Alice tried to school the glare that wanted to come out and play. Mercy knew their only option was an alliance, even if Parker was too proud to see that.
“I’m the leader of the Deadly Seven,” he replied. “Kill me and you’ll face the eternal wrath of my family. You might even trigger the apocalypse yourselves.” His golden-eyed gaze bored into Alice as he spoke to the rest. “Keep my mate from me and you risk triggering my dark side.”
He plucked another piece of paper from the board and held it out to the Rev. It was the news article that mentioned a busload of people who’d suddenly fallen asleep, dated the same day as when Sloan’s mate Max had been taken hostage by the Syndicate. Sloan had lost control of her gift that day. The Sisterhood knew much about the Deadly Seven from Mary’s time working as a nun in their lab. But they didn’t know everything. From what information Alice had added to their research, they had suspicions about the mating bond, one of which was that if the mates were separated, then the hero would fall into sin, becoming potentially unstoppable. He was all but confirming their suspicion.
“You say she’s your mate, but where’s the proof?” The Rev stomped her walking stick.
“What does it matter?” Thea snapped. “We’re not handing her over.”
“Why don’t you tell them, Alice?” Parker raised his brows, humor in his eyes. “You saw evidence of my ability, first hand. And I’m sure you all know by now, after years of spying on us, that an ability only surfaces after triggering this mating bond.”
Alice lifted her palms. “Hey, all I know is that some kind of unnatural scent made me more susceptible to suggestion. I have no idea if that was one of your powers. It could have been chemical warfare.”
Parker’s eye twitched. He clearly didn’t want to reveal his full gift, and Alice enjoyed pushing him. She was curious too because maybe she was right, maybe that was some kind of trick he played on her. For the past two years she’d kept her hormones in check, but after one whiff of his delectable scent, she was putty in his hands.
It wouldn’t happen again.
Parker cracked his neck and then snarled. Before their eyes, he transformed. His snarl became deeper, more guttural. His teeth elongated to fangs, his eyes glowed gold, and a cracking sound rent the air as claws sprung forth from his fingertips. She winced at the painful sound, hoping that it wasn’t his bones cracking and protruding, or something like that.
Just as quickly as he’d become the lion, he shifted back to human, placing his hand back in his pocket just as the prosthetic was. The perfect picture of decorum.
“Dang,” Thea said.
8
Julius Allcott had thoughthis plans were iron clad. He’d spent decades orchestrating superhuman beings that would eradicate sinners from this earth. He even had a plan to destroy the other Syndicate partners and take the new world for his own. Of course, that new world, the sinless utopia he was creating, was only utopia if he had perfect replicates of his dead wife and child—Joseline and Jasmine. He was going to create a new world where his child would be safe. And he was going to be happy.
That was until his progeny, Despair, decided that drinking the Lazarus Koolaid was more important than her loyalty to him.
Now he stood outside a two-way mirror, looking inside to a cell where she lay half naked, curled into herself. Bruises along her spine revealed the locations of bone marrow samples they’d extracted, time and time again. With her ability to heal and regenerate, it was like a never-ending source. The Syndicate scientists may have failed to replicate the Lazarus family’s exact DNA makeup, but they were close enough. They had replicates with powers. It mattered not if they expired after three months of living. And since he couldn’t bring Joseline and Jasmine back… three months was enough to lay waste to the world.
Behind his closed eyes a scene replayed in horror for the millionth time.
“I won’t kill you, just your precious family.” Despair held up the locket.
Julius’s hand went to his throat, realized it had been removed—No! If she dared to touch them… With one hand still holding the knife to his throat, she thumbed open the locket with the other. Julius jerked, bucked, attempting to escape, but she nicked his neck and he stilled. He eyed the locket with hope. Maybe she was bluffing. Surely, she wouldn’t do it. Two strands of hair poked out from the metal rim. Despair’s nostrils flared, and she tipped her head back and swallowed the strands, never shifting her raging eyes from him.
“You fucking bitch,” Julius growled, spittle flying, but she held the knife firm.
