Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Remi stepped in after her.
Nothing happened until they were at the bottom of the short flight. At which point, Auden reached to her left and pressed her thumb against another small depression, and the hatch slid shut above them.
The lights brightened at the same time, to reveal that they stood in a small room in front of the heavy steel cage of an elevator. The doors gleamed at them, their mirror images grim-faced.
Auden stepped forward and touched another depression, while Remi did a second scan.
“Still clean,” he said, slipping the device into his back pocket.
“We can talk,” Auden confirmed. “No one would dare monitor me in such a way.” Once again, her voice had shifted to a far icier version of the one he knew, but the fire in her gaze was his Auden, the way she stared at the doors to the elevator pure rage.
“What’s happening, Cupcake?” He deliberately used his private little name for her, wanting to touch that part of her that got all soft and happy when she heard it.
“I don’t know. But I’m me. The me that would die for Liberty—and kill for her.”
The last came out as grim as the cold dark of midnight. It didn’t bother him. He’d kill for little Liberty, too, would kill for any of the cubs in his pack.
He let his claws slice out as he brushed her cheek. “Let’s go find the fuckers.”
Her smile was deadly.
The lift doors opened at that moment.
Remi was already in position to attack should they find a threat, but the woman in the cage wore white scrubs with the Scott logo on the pocket and was holding an organizer. She was blond, about five feet four, her build stocky. And Remi hadn’t seen or scented her in the house even once since their arrival.
Her pupils expanded as she stared at Auden. Her gaze flicked to Auden’s belly, then back up.
“The plans have changed,” Auden said, the words clipped and remote and coming from the part of her that wasn’t her…but that had become infected with her love for her child. “The infant didn’t survive. We have to complete a permanent transfer to this brain.”
“Oh no.” The nurse or doctor shifted back, so Auden and Remi could step inside the lift with her. “Did Dr. Verhoeven authorize it?” A hesitant question as the lift doors closed. “You know he has significant concerns about this brain even though you prepared the telepathic interlock over many years.”
An ugly truth emerging in the recesses of her mind, Auden looked at the other woman without speaking until the blonde dropped her gaze. A pulse jumped in her neck, faint perspiration breaking out over her upper lip.
“I am making the decisions now,” Auden said, sick to her gut. “You would do well to remember that, Nurse Lomax.” The name fell from her lips as if she’d always known it.
“Yes, of course, sir.” The woman tapped at her organizer. “I was actually on my way to consult with the doctor. Your brain patterns are destabilizing even further.”
“How bad?” she asked, as the other part of her retreated without warning, but Auden didn’t need her anymore.
The monstrous truth was taking darker and darker shape inside her mind.
“A fifty percent decline in a matter of hours.” The nurse dared meet her gaze. “We might lose the pattern altogether if we don’t finalize the integration tonight.”
“Just as well I’m here then,” Auden said.
—how long this brain will function—
—integration—
—a pristine canvas—
—telepathic interlock—
—destabilizing—
Her gaze met Remi’s, and in the feral green-gold of his eyes, she saw the same realization as her own.
The doors opened in front of them.
When Auden stepped out, the nurse hesitated. “Should I fetch the doctor? He’s the only one you taught to oversee the mechanics of the integration—and he needs to be on standby in case of heart failure, as happened the first time you attempted a full transfer to this brain as a stopgap measure.”
Heart failure. And they wanted to do the same thing to her tiny, fragile, cherished baby?
Auden would murder each and every one.
The other part of her surged to the surface before she gave in to maternal rage—because that part had merged with her core nature, was her now. And that part loved Liberty, but could keep a cool head at the same time even in its murderous rage.
“Verhoeven can do nothing,” she said, frigid contempt in her tone. “His job was to maintain the pattern and the fetus—both tasks at which he has failed.” Her tone of voice made it clear that the doctor would not appreciate the cost of failure.
The nurse went pale.
Silent or not, everyone valued their skin.
“Yes, sir.” The nurse stepped out. “Should I come…?”
“Yes,” Auden said, as the other part of her faded out, a wave surging in and out. “You may as well give me a full update while we walk. I haven’t had a chance to read the latest report.”