Chapter 1
Three months later
“M-Mr. StoneCrow?” Briel straightened her shoulders and fought to harden her tone, closing her hand more firmly around the phone receiver she had jammed to her ear. “It’s me, Briel Solomon. I met you once with…my father.” She stalled out, not wanting to give up too much information, but she needed help, and she needed it now.
“Briel?” On the other end of the line, Monroe StoneCrow’s tone was hard, but he couldn’t mask the shock that laced his words. “Where are you?”
The urgency in his tone sent shivers skittering up her spine.
“I need your help.”
Monroe asked again, this time more firmly, “Where are you, Briel?”
She could hear movement in the background over the line, and it encouraged her to end the call quickly. “The General is dead,” she informed.
“I know. Where are you? I’ll send a team to you. You need to come in. You’re not safe.”
It was something she already knew. “I need money, not rescue. I’m done trusting anyone—especially your kind—but you owe my father. He died because of you, and your…” Too afraid to say anything over the line, she clipped out, “You know.”
Monroe’s tone was icy when he demanded, “How do I get money to you if I don’t know where you are.”
“Paypal. My account is,” she rattled off an e-mail address of an account she’d set up that day for this specific purpose. She’d have to transfer the money to her bank account to access it, but she could do that from anywhere. No one would find her, she was sure of it. “You owe us,” she ground out. “You owe my father!” Without another word, she slammed the phone down in one of the last phone booths in existence in Union Station. Stepping out of the booth, she took a moment to compose herself, eyes locked, as they had been the entire call, on the five-year-old replica of herself sitting with an ice cream sundae and swinging her feet merrily as she slurped chocolate syrup off her spoon. Briel used a trembling hand to dash away the tears that slid onto her cheeks. She didn’t want Fena to see her crying. The poor kid had already had it bad enough.
Too late. Fena’s tongue stilled mid-lick as her wide amber eyes locked on Briel. “S-Sissy?”
Briel plastered on a fake smile as Fena’s tremulous tone broke her heart a bit more. She beamed too brightly at her little sister. “Hey Bubba, how’s your ice cream?”
Fena’s eyes narrowed on her so Briel blinked faster and bent, scooping Fena up and settling her onto one hip. “You wanna go home and build a tent cave?”
Home! What a joke. They were staying in an elegant condo her father had purchased several years back. It was one of several locations in the DC area that the General had demanded Briel memorize just a little over a year ago. It was almost like he knew his end was coming and he’d prepared as best he could to provide for his daughters in the only way he knew how. While the condo was elegant, it was nothing compared to their lavish estate on Kingman Lake. She missed the lake. City life was no life that Briel enjoyed. She was homesick something fierce. Worse, while her father had set up multiple city hideaways—as he’d called them—he hadn’t left behind any financial aid. Well, none that Briel or Fena could get their hands on any time in the near future. In fact, all Briel had found in the safe inside the condo was a slip of paper. On it was a simple note.
Contact Monroe StoneCrow.
A phone number was provided, and Briel had been reluctant to use it up until now.
“Yeah!” Fena instantly brightened, drawing Briel’s attention back to her. “Tent cave!”
Eyeing their surroundings, as she’d grown much too accustomed to doing, Briel hurried from Union Station with Fena still plastered to her hip. She hated this. She hated every single second of running because…well, because she had no idea what in the hell she was doing. The realization that she’d been sheltered from too much was never as glaringly obvious as it was now that she was thrust all alone into her father’s world of politics, military, money, and secrets. She squeezed Fena closer as they hit the street and she amended her thought. Not alone. And thank God for that, because if Fena wasn’t here to keep Briel focused, she’d probably already be dead.
***
Monroe shoved up from his desk so quickly that his chair crashed back onto the floor. Slamming the handset of his desk phone back onto the receiver, he jammed his finger in the direction of his Chief of Security, who lounged in a chair near the door.
“Tell me you’re still tracing all incoming and outgoing calls to the Estate.”
The second Monroe shot out of his chair, King had stilled in the act of polishing his Desert Eagle with the hem of his shirt, eyes snapping up to watch the Dominant. In response to Monroe’s question, he dipped his head. “Absolutely.”
The grin that swept over Monroe’s features was terrifying if simply for the fact that the Dominant Skin Walker rarely smiled. “The reckoning is here.”
King lowered the hem of his shirt, stood, and slowly holstered his pistol. “Crow?”
“General Solomon’s daughter has just come out of hiding.”
Monroe had been searching for her for three months for two reasons. Firstly, her father had been a Skin Walker ally and Monroe was certain that the General’s recent death was in direct correlation with that fact. His second reason for hunting her down was far less noble than his desire to pay back the General’s loyalty by protecting his daughters. Still, it had to be done.
After her father’s death, Briel had taken her sister, Fena, and disappeared. Smart girl, but she was equally as foolish. Monroe and the General had talked at length about what would happen to the General’s daughters in the event of his demise or disappearance. Monroe had no qualms about vowing protection and a home for the two females. The problem was, Briel apparently had other ideas, which was unfortunate. Not only because Monroe wanted to ensure her and her sister’s safety as he’d promised to the General, but Monroe knew that the place and the protection he had in mind for Briel and Fena would be second to none.
Shock laced King’s tone when he breathed, “Holy shit!”
Monroe hurried around his desk. “Find Remy! I want a team in the air five minutes ago. No contact. Just verification.” He stopped mere steps from King to bark. “I don’t want her lost. They stick to her like fucking glue until I send word otherwise.”
“You’re sure it’s her? I mean…you’re certain she’s Tyce’s? This could all go wrong, and leaving her out there could get her killed.”
Monroe’s lips twisted in a sinister grin. “It’s her.” His eyes sparked with determination. “LILLY!” he bellowed at his personal assistant, who also happened to be King’s mate. “Get Tyce Steele on the line!” He turned and rushed back to his desk, bending to jerk his jacket from where it rested beneath his downed chair. “King, get a chopper ready. We’re going to Apex!”
The phone on his desk buzzed and he jerked it up, putting it to his ear before the other end had even stopped ringing. When it did, a hard tone greeted him. “This is Steele.”
Monroe smirked at the greeting. Steele. “Tyce.” He intentionally used the Dominant’s first name to irk him. “It’s Monroe.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m on my way to Apex. I’ll be there within the hour.” He hung up and smiled, feeling a little too excited over what was about to happen.