• CHAPTER 12 •
DC Insider News
CONSORTING WITH THE
ENEMY?
If the heading hadn’t caught his attention as he sat down with his morning coffee, the picture of the rough-hewn, powerful male would have.
Pictures were attained of the Breed princess, Cassandra Sinclair, in the arms of who insiders are claiming to be her lover.
Known only as Dog, and according to several unidentified sources to be a known Genetics Council associate, the powerful Coyote Breed is listed as “rogue” within the national Breed database, meaning he’s declared no affiliation with the legitimate Breed community and is suspected of crimes against Breed Law.
Ms. Sinclair, known as the Breed’s foremost legal expert where Breed Law is concerned, and a consultant for the Federal Bureau of Breed Affairs, couldn’t be reached for comment, but other sources within the Breed community claim the affair to be no more than a fling or possibly a hoax. They say a news release is expected soon announcing the engagement of Ms. Sinclair to none other than the assistant director of the Federal Bureau of Breed Affairs, Rhyzan Brannigan.
Ms. Sinclair, a known companion of Deputy Director Brannigan, is rumored to have already committed to the engagement. So why then was the Genetics Council Dog seen carrying Ms. Sinclair through the entrance of the Western Bureau of Breed Affairs in Window Rock?
The spokesperson for the Bureau of Breed Affairs, Tanner Reynolds, is promising a press release soon, and the arrival of Breed leaders Lupine Gunnar, Coy Delgado and Prime Lyons, along with their wives, has already been noted. Alphas of the largest packs and prides, as well as Ms. Sinclair’s parents, Dash and Elizabeth Sinclair, are also known to be in attendance …
Senator Aaron C. Ryder’s attention shifted from the article. He didn’t give a goddamn about the Breed goings-on in general. It was like watching an animal shelter fucking free-for-all. And the damned masses were still so stupid over the animals that no matter their actions, the Breeds waltzed through the public like they owned it.
No, it wasn’t the gossip or the lovefest googly-eyed article that had him shuddering. It was the picture.
The young Breed female was sheltered in the Coyote Breed’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder. It was that Coyote’s face that held him, had him tracking every plane and angle of the imposing features.
Sharp, gunmetal gray eyes were piercing behind thick, sand-colored lashes. A high forehead, an aristocratic nose, and an imposing chin. Generations had gone into perfecting those features and building the tall, powerful body. The Breed DNA that now marred them only sharpened them, made the body more powerful, stronger.
But still, an abomination.
Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off the Breed’s face. He’d suspected he existed—hell no, a part of him had known he’d existed. When his father’s body had been returned, there hadn’t been so much as a whisper of a child, but there was no doubt a child had been born of the mother.
Her body had been found nearly a year after the escape. The scientists who oversaw the autopsy were certain she’d died just after whelping the bastard.
His fist clenched in fury as he scrolled down, finding several other pictures of the Breed. Most were fuzzy, the features not really clear. The Coyote was called reclusive, secretive, never allowing pictures to be taken. He shouldn’t have allowed that picture to be taken.
Because what he was could be revealed, and surely he didn’t want that. No, no one wanted that, and it had to be stopped before it happened. It had to be stopped before the world learned that Ms. Sinclair could possibly whelp his child. A child no test on earth would reveal as a Breed. A child who could infect the world if it bred.
“Hey, Grandpa.” The cheerful young woman who took her seat at the breakfast table had his head lifting, regret shaming him as he stared at her despite his return smile.
Those generations of careful selection had somehow bypassed this sweet girl. Her hair was a soft, nondescript brown, her eyes an unremarkable hazel. She was barely five-five, a little on the plump side, which he detested, but she loved him.
He was quite fond of her, just sorely disappointed in both her looks and her bearing. Finding her a husband should have been easy, would have been easy, but somehow it never quite worked out.
Not that he often regretted it, except for the fact that it still left him with no male heir. There was no way he could leave his fortune to this flighty, often forgetful child.
“Good morning, dear.” He shuttered his tablet and laid it aside. “Tell me, how do you feel about a little trip out west with your grandfather …”