Bryce slept heavily in her own bed, despite what she’d learned and seen about the synth.
But she woke at three. And knew what she had to do.
She fired off an email with her request, and regardless of the late hour, received one back within twenty minutes: she’d need to wait until her request was approved by the 33rd. Bryce frowned. She didn’t have time for that.
She crept from her room. Hunt’s door was shut, his room dark beyond it. He didn’t so much as come to investigate as she slipped out of the apartment.
And headed for her old one.
She hadn’t been on this block in two years.
But as she rounded the corner and saw the flashing lights and terrified crowds, she knew.
Knew what building burned midway down the block.
Someone must have noticed that she’d logged on to Danika’s account at Redner Industries today. Or perhaps someone had been monitoring her email account—and seen the message she’d sent to the building’s landlord. Whoever had done this must have acted quickly, realizing that she’d wanted to come hunt for any other clues Danika might have left around the apartment.
There had to be more. Danika was smart enough to not have put everything she’d discovered in one place.
Terrified, weeping people—her old neighbors—had clustered on the street, hugging each other and gazing up at the blaze in disbelief. Fire licked at every windowsill.
She’d done this—brought this upon the people watching their homes burn. Her chest tightened, the pain barely eased by overhearing a passing water nymph announce to her firefighting squad that every resident was accounted for.
She had caused this.
But—it meant she was getting close. Look toward where it hurts the most, the Viper Queen had advised her all those weeks ago. She’d thought the shifter meant what hurt her. But maybe it had been about the murderer all along.
And by circling in on the synth … Apparently, she’d hit a nerve.
Bryce was halfway home when her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her hastily repaired jacket, the white opal in the pocket clinking against the screen, already bracing herself for Hunt’s questions.
But it was from Tharion.
There’s a deal going down on the river right now. A boat is out there, signaling. Just past the Black Dock. Be there in five and I can get you out to see it.
She clenched the white opal in her fist and wrote back, A synth deal?
Tharion answered, No, a cotton candy deal.
She rolled her eyes. I’ll be there in three.
And then she broke into a run. She didn’t call Hunt. Or Ruhn.
She knew what they’d say. Do not fucking go there without me, Bryce. Wait.
But she didn’t have time to waste.
65
Bryce gripped Tharion’s waist so hard it was a wonder he didn’t have difficulty breathing. Beneath them, the wave skimmer bobbed on the river’s current. Only the occasional passing glow under the dark surface indicated that there was anything or anyone around them.
She’d hesitated when the mer arrived at the pier, the matte black wave skimmer idling. It’s either this or swimming, Legs, he’d informed her.
She’d opted for the wave skimmer, but had spent the last five minutes regretting it.
“Up there,” the mer male murmured, cutting the already quiet engine. It must have been a stealth vehicle from the River Queen’s stash. Or Tharion’s own, as her Captain of Intelligence.
Bryce beheld the small barge idling on the river. Mist drifted around them, turning the few firstlights on the barge into bobbing orbs.
“I count six people,” Tharion observed.
She peered into the gloom ahead. “I can’t make out what they are. Humanoid shapes.”
Tharion’s body hummed, and the wave skimmer drifted forward, carried on a current of his own making.
“Neat trick,” she murmured.
“It always gets the ladies,” he muttered back.
Bryce might have chuckled had they not neared the barge. “Keep downwind so they can’t scent us.”
“I know how to remain unseen, Legs.” But he obeyed her.
The people on the boat were hooded against the misting rain, but as they drifted closer—
“It’s the Viper Queen,” Bryce said, her voice hushed. No one else in this city would have the swagger to wear that ridiculous purple raincoat. “Lying asshole. She said she didn’t deal in synth.”
“No surprise,” Tharion growled. “She’s always up to shady shit.”
“Yeah, but is she buying or selling this time?”
“Only one way to find out.”
They drifted closer. The barge, they realized, was painted with a pair of snake eyes. And the crates piled on the rear of the barge … “Selling,” Tharion observed. He jerked his chin to a tall figure facing the Viper Queen, apparently in a heated discussion with someone beside them. “Those are the buyers.” A nod to the person half-hidden in the shadows, arguing with the tall figure. “Disagreeing about what it’s worth, probably.”
The Viper Queen was selling synth. Had it really been her this entire time? Behind Danika and the pack’s deaths, too, despite that alibi? Or had she merely gotten her hands on the substance once it leaked from the lab?
The arguing buyer shook their head with clear disgust. But their associate seemed to ignore whatever was said and chucked the Viper Queen what looked like a dark sack. She peered inside, and pulled something out. Gold flashed in the mist.
“That is a fuck-ton of money,” Tharion murmured. “Enough for that entire shipment, I bet.”
“Can you get closer so we can hear?”
Tharion nodded, and they drifted again. The barge loomed, the attention of all aboard fixed on the deal going down rather than the shadows beyond it.
The Viper Queen was saying to them, “I think you’ll find this to be sufficient for your goals.”
Bryce knew she should call Hunt and Ruhn and get every legionary and Aux member over here to shut this down before more synth flooded the streets or wound up in worse hands. In the hands of fanatics like Philip Briggs and his ilk.
She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket, flicking a button to keep the screen from lighting up. A push of another button had the camera function appearing. She snapped a few photos of the boat, the Viper Queen, and the tall, dark figure she faced. Human, shifter, or Fae, she couldn’t tell with the jacket and hood.
Bryce pulled up Hunt’s number.
The Viper Queen said to the buyers, “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, don’t you?”
The tallest buyer didn’t reply. Just stiffly turned back to their companions, displeasure written in every movement as the firstlights illuminated the face beneath the hood.
“Holy fuck,” Tharion whispered.
Every thought eddied out of Bryce’s head.
There was nothing left in her but roaring silence as Hunt’s face became clear.
66
Bryce didn’t know how she wound up on the barge. What she said to Tharion to make him pull up. How she climbed off the wave skimmer and onto the boat itself.
But it happened fast. Fast enough that Hunt had made it only three steps before Bryce was there, soaked and wondering if she’d puke.
Guns clicked, pointing at her. She didn’t see them.
She only saw Hunt whirl toward her, his eyes wide.
Of course she hadn’t recognized him from a distance. He had no wings. But the powerful build, the height, the angle of his head … That was all him.
And his colleague behind him, the one who’d handed over the money—Viktoria. Justinian emerged from the shadows beyond them, his wings painted black to conceal them in the moonlight.
Bryce was distantly aware of Tharion behind her, telling the Viper Queen that she was under arrest on behalf of the River Queen. Distantly aware of the Viper Queen chuckling.
But all she heard was Hunt breathe, “Bryce.”
“What the fuck is this?” she whispered. Rain slashed her face. She couldn’t hear, couldn’t get any air down, couldn’t think as she said again, her voice breaking, “What the fuck is this, Hunt?”
“It is exactly what it looks like,” a cold, deep voice said behind her.