Page 18 of Ruthless Ends

“What’s this I’ve been hearing about a blood shortage?” the man on Reid’s other side asks.

All eyes turn to Auclair. The younger advisor beside him shifts in his seat and loosens his tie as Auclair sighs and braces his forearms on the table.

“We’re trying to keep it under wraps to avoid panic, but I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors circulating. We weren’t prepared for the sudden demand increase, and pairing that with the recent mass loss of humans in the estate—”

Reid sits up taller. “What mass loss?”

“Earlier this week we had large groups quit and leave the region. We currently are down about half of our employees.”

Silence settles over the table as I chew on the inside of my cheek.

The humans working at the estate all leaving at once—either they got scared after seeing what happened at the Carrington estate or they realized the other side would be better for their own interests.

“Have you considered the potential security breach?” I find myself saying, then immediately regret it as everyone turns to me.

“Security breach?” Queen Carrington repeats, her voice sounding like a laugh.

I hold her gaze, refusing to let her make me feel small. “If those humans left to join Westcott, the first thing they probably did was tell them everything they knew about the estate, the region. Anything that could help him.”

“As if humans would be privy to anything of importance,” scoffs the queen.

I cock my head. Does she actually believe that? Are these people really that naïve? When Connor was working for the Carrington estate, he wasn’t trusted with any information, sure, but that didn’t stop him from knowing everything about everything that went on under that roof.

“But they’re observant. And they listen,” I insist. “I’m sure they know more than you’re aware of.”

“We’ll need to take extra precautions,” agrees King Auclair, rubbing the space between his eyebrows with two fingers.

“If we don’t find a solution to this blood shortage quickly,” murmurs the younger advisor, “I’m willing to bet our guests will start taking out what little staff we have left.”

Maybe that had been Westcott’s plan for Auclair all along. Everyone has been looking at the attack as a failure because he didn’t seize the estate, but trapping us inside and leaving us to starve and turn on each other will be plenty effective too.

“We’ve contacted the other blood farms in the region and are expecting shipments shortly, and some of the representatives from the other estates are graciously bringing prisoners with them, so we’re hopeful we’ll be able to get this under control soon,” says Auclair.

“This is ridiculous,” exclaims a woman at the far end as she slams her hands on the table and rises to her feet. She’s built like a mountain, and judging by her uniform, she’s part of Auclair’s security. The head, if I had to guess. “Does no one else see an issue here? No one else has a problem with her being in this room?”

To my shock, she points at me.

“She’s Westcott’sdaughter, for fuck’s sake. Talk about needing to take precautions. We’re supposed to take her word that she’s not a spy for him? Or that he is, for that matter?” She pivots toward Cam, whose mouth is now set in a firm line.

Anya scoffs. “Did he not infect her with the psychosis, kidnap her, then dump her in the woods with a bunch of werewolves? And you think she’sloyalto him? Are you out of your goddamn mind? Blood doesn’t runthatdeep.”

I blink. Is she…sticking up for me? What’s even more shocking, however, is the next person who comes to my defense is Queen Carrington.

“I’ve looked through Valerie’s memories myself. And I was present for Camden’s questioning,” she adds, though her upper lip curls as she says his name. “I don’t question the loyalty of anyone in this room.”

“Nor do I,” says Auclair. “And given the lack of intel from our teams on the ground lately, we’ll take all of the assets we can get. I’m an understanding man, Sawyer, but question my judgment again, and there will be no place for you here.”

The moment goes on forever as her hands remained curled into fists on the table. But then she bows her head almost imperceptibly and lowers into her seat.

“Has there been any news?” Anya asks.

“News?” repeats Auclair.

Anya spreads her hands wide as if her meaning was obvious. “From Westcott. Has he made demands? Offered negotiation terms?”

Auclair’s eyes darken, and the queen sits up straighter, lifting her chin as she does.

If what Westcott told me at the compound was true, hedidtry to negotiate with them a long time ago. Considering they stabbed him in the back and tried to execute him instead, it’s safe to say they weren’t interested.

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