Page 91 of Legacy of Temptation

“Not all of them. There’s one from last year that’s all about your parents. And she works for the fuckingAegis.” He shoved away from the desk and headed back to the kitchen, his voice getting louder with every step. “You know, the people who killed Shanea and Noah? The people who want to eradicate our kind?” He swiped up his cold coffee and rounded on Logan with a growl. “The people who tried to kill you and pretty much everyone we know?”

“I get it, Rade. I know the deal. I don’t need to be reminded every damn second. But give Eva a break. She was tormented for years by a nightmare demon. She’s got as much reason to hate demons as we have to hate The Aegis.”

Rade’s stare was practically hot enough to leave scorch marks on Logan’s skin. “I don’t care.”

No, he probably didn’t. But he didn’t usually get this worked up about anything. Something was off.

“Rade, man, this isn’t like you. What’s going on? Did you bust into my room just to tell me about the dirt on Eva?”

Rade popped the top of his beverage with a violent flick of his wrist. “I wanted to know why you didn’t tell me about Lilith and Draven. What the fuck?”

“You were busy with Masumi. I was going to tell you as soon as you were free.”

“So, you thought you’d get busy with the Aegi in the meantime? I’d expect that of Mace, but you?”

Logan stared at his friend. This was bizarre. Rade’s emotions usually read like a cardiac flatline. He was rarely happy or furious. Shit rolled off him, and even if it didn’t, he wouldn’t notice. Nothing got to the guy. He was ice on top of ice. On top of more ice.

“Jesus, man,” Logan muttered. “Seriously, this isn’t you. What’s really going on?” Abruptly, pain flickered in Rade’s eyes, ruthlessly quashed a second later, but Logan had seen enough. “Son of a bitch. It’s Stryke, isn’t it?”

Rade slammed his bottle down on the counter so hard Logan was surprised it didn’t crack. “Sabre’s forensic lab analyzed the weapon that killed Shan and Noah. The pistol and bullet casings are made from a metal found only in Sheoul, and the bullets are packed with a fluid Sabre says is enchanted blood, but he can’t identify it or the enchantment. He thinks it’s possibly of Divine origin. The weapon was definitely developed by StryTech.” Rade looked down at his feet with a subtle, sad shake of his head. “I was hoping what I got out of Eva’s head was wrong.”

“Dammit,” Logan snapped, angry at the confirmation, even though they’d all suspected as much. The Aegis couldn’t have pulled off the development of that kind of advanced weaponry, and no weapons manufacturer or tech company even came close to what StryTech could invent.

Others tried, but they merely copied or piggybacked on StryTech’s products and research. Advancements in human technology had largely stalled over the last thirty years, the focus instead turning to ways to combat, identify, or use demons. And StryTech had led the way since the beginning.

“Why the hell is he arming our enemy?” Logan cursed again. “I know he’s all about giving anyone who wants them weapons to destroy demons, but this is too much. DART should have had sole access to that weapon.”

“He should have at least told us about it,” Rade said, his voice rumbling with barely restrained anger. “The fucker couldn’t even be bothered to warn us, hisfamily, that The Aegis possessed guns that could kill us!”

That was definitely a dick move. No matter what had gone down between Stryke and his family after Chaos’s death, there was no excuse not to give them a heads-up. “Have you tried contacting him?”

Rade barked out a bitter laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? It takes him weeks to respond to my communiques. And that’s if I’m lucky. You think he’s going to want to talk to me when I’m mad? Blade has tried too. Nothing. We’re his damn brothers—we’re triplets—and he acts like we’re as unimportant to him as the nameless guy who delivers lunch to his high and mighty tower office.”

“Screw him.” Logan glanced around the undecorated apartment in an attempt to refocus his thoughts. Too bad there was nothing to look at besides the bizarre artsiness of the gray and copper pipes crisscrossing the ceilings and scaling the walls. Rade didn’t believe in personal touches. The guy lived an extreme minimalist existence. The industrial nature of the building suited him, as well as the stark white walls and exposed pipes with odd angles.

“I wish I could do something to help,” Logan said, “but he won’t have anything to do with me, either. The last time I went to see him in his office, it didn’t go well.”

“When was that?” Rade propped his hip against the island, his posture relaxing a little, shifting from angry and defensive to angry and tired. “I can’t believe he let you in.”

“It was a couple of years ago. Remember when we had that birthday bash for you and Blade? I went to invite him so we could celebrate all your birthdays. Maybe take a step toward mending some fences. Figured if I invited him in person instead of over an email or text or something I could convince him. When he said no, I said some choice things that got me kicked out of there.”

“What did you say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Logan glanced over at the only personal touch in the apartment, a family portrait on the desk, taken a few months before Chaos died. Before everything changed. “What I said was true.”

You’re still a selfish piece of shit whose selfishness got your brother killed.

Logan should have expected a violent response, but he’d been angry, too balls-deep in his own pain over that day that he didn’t see the blade coming. It stopped in mid-air, one millimeter from his pupil, hovering there like a spear.

“Get out,” Stryke roared. “Get the fuck out! Guards!”

And that was when a half-dozen armed goons had emerged from who knew where, andescortedhim out of the building. It was a lot more humiliating than Logan liked to admit.

Rade moved to the couch, his steps wooden. He sank down, braced his arms on his spread thighs, and gazed at the concrete floor. Logan had known the Sem his entire life, and aside from the blur of days after Chaos’s death, Logan had never seen the male this distressed. Usually, the guy was a solid shard of ice. There had been times when Logan wondered if the thing he’d lost during the time the demon had him was his soul.

“How’s Blade doing?” Logan asked. “Have you talked to him?” He didn’t need to ask about Crux. They all left him out of shit involving Stryke.

Rade didn’t look up. Just talked to the floor. “I don’t need to. I can feel him. He’s as fucked up about this as I am.”

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