Page 71 of Griffin Undone
“They need peace,” I agreed, “but they—we—can no longer ignore the greatest threat to that peace. Not if we want to keep it.”
Something in my tone must’ve alerted Solomon, because the king’s eyes narrowed, searching my face. Those phoenix eyes demanded confession, demanded to know who the stranger was standing before him. Demanded submission. I resisted. The tinkling of the water filled the air, at odds with the tension as our strong wills clashed, each seeking the upper hand. I refused to give in. I knew what was right, damn it! I’d seen with my own eyes what the Anigma were capable of. Ignoring them was no longer an option.
Solomon rose to face me, body taut with the same determination he’d displayed in the Warrior’s Council weeks earlier. “What have you done?”
I felt my mind opening, felt the power of the king’s phoenix ripping into my depths. I relaxed, letting Solomon in, letting him see everything.
“You defied me!”Fury trembled in every syllable.
I kept my head up, unbowed.“Yes, I did. For very good reason.”I closed my eyes, drew up the memories of the past night, and for the first time ever, unleashed my own power, forcing the images into my stubborn king’s mind.
Solomon gasped. Resistance was automatic but futile. I would not back down. Thomas deserved better. Our people deserved better.
“You will watch, Father,” I demanded, clamping a hand on the male’s forearm. He would not escape the truth. “Stop this foolishness and listen.”
Staring into Solomon’s eyes, I pushed memories into his mind: Thomas’s last agonizing moments. The identity of the one who had murdered him, the same shifter who had betrayed us so long ago. Baer’s refusal to cooperate and the things I and James had done to change his mind. I shared the scent of burning flesh, the howls of agony, the despair when I realized how far we would have to go. And I shared what it had taken to loosen the werewolf’s tongue, every sick, ugly moment. Through it all Solomon stood rigid, unyielding, his fury hot under my grip.
Sweat dripped down the shifter’s battered face as I circled behind him. “How do the Anigma find the women?”
“Maddox gives each lieutenant a list, all females that have the possibility of being triggered. Some from headquarters, some…I don’t know how he finds them. My pack does not hunt the females.” A sob escaped as James brought a hot knife toward the strapped hand of Baer’s brother, Beckan. The youngest of their pack. The one they all looked out for. The only one still alive except Baer. The older werewolf would do anything to protect his sibling, as we’d proven in the past half hour. “I don’t know how they find them, I don’t! Please, stop. Please!”
“How does Maddox find them?”
“I don’t know!”
Slice. Beckan howled in agony as his pinky dropped to the floor.
Baer’s words rose to a shout. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!”
I stepped in front of Baer. “How many have you changed?” I asked.
Gaze refusing to leave his brother, Baer’s voice quivered with fear for his pack mate. “We do not. We only convert the males.”
“How many?”
Baer shook his head. “Thousands.”
“How many females has Maddox collected?”
“For himself? Fifteen? Twenty?”
“Every female they hunted was triggered?”
Sick inevitability filled Baer’s face. “No.”
“What happens if they don’t have Archai genes?”
“H-he orders them killed.”
I stepped to the side and watched as, with deliberation, James placed his hand on top of the young werewolf’s injured one and pressed down. Amid the screams of our victim, I asked, “How many did he kill?”
Baer turned his head and threw up, but not before I and the others received his broadcasted thoughts—memories, more like, of Anigma soldiers on the hunt, of female after female after female, each defenseless, terrified, torn apart, raped, dead. Baer had not participated, but he had seen, had heard the stories, and he shared everything in that single telepathic blast. Cale hunched in the corner, the sound of gagging clear, and I had to fight the urge to join him.
God of the Heavens, how could any male of honor do such things to the helpless?
“They have no honor,” Solomon said aloud, voice heavy with resignation, “just as their ancestors before them.”
I bowed my head in agreement, though the knowledge in no way lessened the horror of what I’d seen and done. I broke off the memory, my gut churning once more.
