Chapter Thirty
Mallory nearly jumped out of her skin as the headlights of a car shone through her window.
She swallowed back her panic and pulled the curtain back far enough to see outside.
A sleek black car parked in the narrow drive, followed by four more vehicles pouring in behind it.
Letting go of the curtain, she leaned against the wall while attempting to slow her breathing.
A knock suddenly sounded on the door. “Miss Cahill?”
It was now or never, Mallory told herself, disengaging the locks and pulling the door wide.
A man stood on the porch, wearing a dark suit and a holding a gun. “Take a step back, ma’am.”
Mallory’s heartbeat kicked up a notch. She backed into the center of the room, her arms held out to her sides. “I’m unarmed.”
“That remains to be seen,” the guy murmured, stepping over the threshold. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
Doing as she was told, Mallory swiveled around and flattened her palms against the wall.
Hands were instantly on her body, patting her down with the efficiency of a general.
“She’s clean,” the guy barked before striding off to check the rest of the cabin.
Four more suited men entered the small space, followed by Vice President Pratt.
“Miss Cahill,” Pratt announced, stopping in front of her, his hand extended. “You can relax now.”
“Please, call me Mallory.” She slowly lowered her arms.
“I apologize for the rough treatment, but I can never be too careful.”
“It’s fine,” Mallory assured him. “Would you like to sit?”
Pratt glanced around before choosing a recliner that had seen better days.
Mallory took a seat on the sofa and clasped her hands together. “I have so much to tell you that I don’t really know where to start.”
“Why don’t you try the beginning.”
Mallory filled Pratt in on everything that had happened since the explosion that sent Hauke washing up on shore, ending with, “According to what Doctor Sutherland explained before he died, the virus is mutating at a rapid rate. It’ll be airborne soon, sir. Millions of lives will be lost if that happens.”
“My God,” Pratt breathed, staring at Mallory in shock.
“There’s more, sir. President Howell abducted Vaulcron and me. He held us at Winchester Industries, while forcing me to…”
Pratt leaned forward and laid a hand over one of hers. “Forcing you to what?”
Mallory took a shuddering breath. “He surgically removed my birth control and had a doctor inject me with a high dose of gonadotropins.”
“Gonadotropins?”
“Fertility medication.”
“What the hell for?” Pratt asked incredulously.
“He planned to breed us.”
Pratt jumped to his feet and began pacing along the edge of the oval-shaped coffee table. “This is unbelievable. Why breed more of the very thing he thinks will be our downfall?”
“Because he knows the Bracadytes aren’t responsible for any of this. The CDC is to blame for the virus, and President Howell is covering it up. Not only that, but he sent a direct order to the secretary of defense to blow up Aukrabah, the Bracadytes’ home.”
“Sir?” one of the security team interrupted. “You may want to turn on the TV.”
Mallory bounded up and ran across the room to switch on the old television set sitting in the corner.
The sight of Vaulcron sitting on her couch, calm and collected, took her breath away. She stood in awe, watching her interview with him through different eyes. He was the most amazing creature Mallory had ever known.
“That is Vaulcron?” Pratt stood next to her, his mouth hanging open in awe.
“Yes. He’s the Prince of Aukrabah,” Mallory explained with pride. “And my mate.”
Acceptance settled inside her heart. Her mind opened to Vaulcron, and all the love she felt spilled over through that connection.
“Mallory?” Vaulcron whispered through her mind. “I am here, my mate. Tell me where you are so that I may come to you.”
Mallory widened the connection, presenting him with a visual of her location along with the address. “I’m not alone, Vaulcron. Be careful.”
“Are you hurt?” The anxiety coming from him was palpable.
“No one has hurt me, Vaulcron. I’m with Vice President Pratt. Hopefully, he can help us.”
“Do not leave. I will be there very soon.”
Butterflies erupted in Mallory’s stomach. Vaulcron was coming for her.
“Miss Cahill?” Pratt’s voice penetrated Mallory’s love-struck brain.
“I’m sorry, sir. You were saying?”
“We have to get you out of here. This place isn’t safe. If they suspect that I came to you, the GPS tracker on the car will lead them right to your door.”
“I can’t leave,” Mallory insisted. “Vaulcron will be here shortly. If I’m gone before he arrives, he will tear this town apart looking for me.”
“Damn it,” Pratt growled, rubbing the back of his neck. “When he gets here, I want you to go to this address.” He pulled out a pad and pen from his coat pocket and scribbled something down before tearing the page loose and handing it to her.
Mallory accepted the scrap of paper and read the barely legible writing. “What is this?”
“It’s a rental house my mother-in-law has in New Orleans. It’s empty at the moment. You’ll be safe there until I can figure out what to do.”
“What are you going to do?”
Pratt turned and headed toward the door. “I don’t know yet. Is your phone a disposable one?”
Mallory nodded.
“Give me the number, and I’ll call you the moment I know what my next move will be.”
Mallory borrowed his pen, jotted down her number in his notepad, and handed it back to him. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”
“You can start by letting the Bracadytes know that I mean them no harm. And I’d like to arrange a meeting with their leader as soon as it’s safe to do so.”
“A meeting, sir? What for?”
“To try to come to some kind of an agreement. They can help us with this virus, and we can help them rebuild what we’ve done. Hopefully, some kind of peace can be found.”
“That’s all they want, sir. To live in peace. They truly mean us no harm.”
Pratt nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
Mallory stood in the open doorway until Pratt disappeared inside his car and backed out of the drive with his convoy in tow.