CHAPTER 27
At the insistence of their mates the Order’s meeting in the war room had broken up half an hour ago, sending the Breed elders up to the mansion to join the women. Mira’s comrades had invited Rafe to the weapons room for some sparring and the usual bullshitting and ball-busting that was a staple of warrior life in any of the Order’s command centers, but he had declined the offer.
He had other diversions in mind.
Namely, Siobhan.
He’d been surprised to discover she wasn’t in her guest room in the main residence. Curious to find she hadn’t even stopped by to see Renata or fawn over the baby, which she’d seemed to be so excited for whenever he spoke about the pending arrival of the Order’s newest family member.
As Rafe strode back down to the command center, the only place she could possibly have gone, he felt a niggling pang that he was tempted to call suspicion. He might have, if his faith in Siobhan wasn’t so complete. Had she gotten lost down in the maze of corridors that threaded through the labyrinthine nerve center of the warriors’ domain? She knew the area was restricted to Order members, but she was an inquisitive woman and maybe she had simply woken from her long nap and gone looking to find him.
The idea comforted him, sweeping away the colder sense he had that he was missing something. That he was blind to something right in front of his face.
That his obsession with Siobhan was making him weak in ways he didn’t quite comprehend.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered as he trekked through yet another twisting passageway and found no sign of her.
He pivoted to go back, then he noticed that the elevator that connected the mansion’s living quarters and command center was stuck on the lower level of the compound. There was nothing in the subterranean bowels of this place but basement storage.
The elevator never sat down there for this long.
Rafe pressed the call button, but nothing happened.
On a frown, he glanced to the stairwell. He took the steps in stealth silence, uncertain why he felt the need to approach whatever waited for him down there with the caution of a soldier. He froze in place as his gaze lit on the propped open elevator door and the crates of ultraviolet munitions that packed the car.
Siobhan was inside. She had something in her hand, wiring it to the crates.
Rafe’s warrior instincts scraped him with confusion. Suspicion. A dread so deep it staggered him.
He saw the scene for what it was: Siobhan with a detonation device in hand, a remote lying next to her.
Fury flared in him, burning past the weaker feelings of disbelief and apprehension.
“Siobhan. What the fuck are you doing?”
She wheeled around, her hand flying to her breast. “Rafe.”
Surprise filled her pretty face, along with an emotion he was tempted to call displeasure. But then she smiled and tilted her head, those hazel eyes of hers reaching out to him--into him--and making him wonder if he was wrong to feel the doubt the clawed at him.
“You startled me,” she said, her voice sweet and shy, utterly innocent.
He wanted to rail at her, but the words dried up on his tongue. “I’ve been looking for you. I just searched the whole damned place trying to find you.”
“Did I worry you?” she asked gently. “I’m sorry if I did.”
He stood there, bewildered and enraged, yet his anger seemed elusive when she was holding him in her adoring gaze. Her tender smile did something to him. Burned all of his negative feelings and suspicions away, as if he were seeing her through a distorted lens, one that could not maintain focus on logic, but only the beautiful woman he adored.
He tried to shake loose of the odd sensation, but it clung tenaciously. “What’s going on here, Siobhan? What are you doing down here by yourself?”
She drifted toward him, her lips still curved in a warm smile, her eyes still locked on his. God, she was so lovely. So petite and delicate looking. How could he entertain the idea that she was anything but the sensitive innocent that had so captivated his heart?
His eyes saw an angel, even though his blood was still hammering as though he were facing a demon.
“I got lost trying to find you after I woke up a few minutes ago,” she said, telling him the precise thing he wanted to hear.
He relaxed as she said it, his heart desperate to believe her. She came closer, until there was hardly scant inches between them. The more she held him in her steady, earnest gaze, the less he could keep hold of a single doubt.
Yet when he glanced over her petite shoulder to the crates of UV now wired for detonation, his vision wobbled. It felt as if he were looking through oil-smeared glass. And the warrior in him could not ignore the danger licking at his conscience.
“What were you doing with that shit?” he pressed in the moment his logic managed to penetrate the haze of his affection for her. “Why were you messing with it?”
“I found the crates in the elevator,” she rushed to explain. “Someone must be trying to move them out of the command center.”
She tried to lead him away now, her hand looped around his arm. Rafe’s feet refused to budge. He shook his head, pushing against the thick mud that seemed to entrench his sense of reason.
“No, Siobhan. You put those inside this car. The wires on the crates, the detonator box. You did all of this?” The accusation sounded like a question, one his mind still couldn’t seem to fully grasp.
She reached up to touch his cheek but he drew away--barely. It was hard to resist her. It was as if this female held him under a spell.
“Holy hell.”
Just like that, he saw through it. Only for the briefest second, but it was enough.
Rafe set her away from him on a snarl. “What have you done to me?”
With effort, he shook off the strange veil that seemed to cover him, obscuring his vision--his true sight. The power of his mind was struggling against whatever power she held over him, giving him little glimpses of sanity.
And the incredible depth of her deception.
“What the fuck have you been doing to me, Siobhan?”
“Me?” She tilted her head, her gaze reaching for his, working to draw him back under. “I haven’t done anything, Rafe.”
“Yes. You have. You’ve been lying to me. You’ve . . . Jesus, how are you doing this? You’re mesmerizing me somehow, trying to make me believe you. Trying to make me love you.”
Her expression fell into a pretty pout. “That hurts me, Rafe. How can you doubt me? I love you--”
“No!” He shook himself, tasting her lie like bitter acid. Poison she’d been feeding him for days. Christ, ever since that night he and Aric rescued her after the attack she’d barely survived.
He took hold of her delicate shoulders. “I can feel you in my head now, Siobhan. You’re trying to weave some kind of spell.”
“No,” she murmured softly. “No, Rafe, that’s not true.”
“It is, damn it.” He could feel her attempting it again. The surge of tender feelings she coaxed inside him, her false love pushing at his mind, at his heart. He growled, denying her access. Now that he could see the allure for what it was--a trick--it was losing most of its power. “Tell me what the fuck you’ve done to me, Siobhan!”
He shook her violently, dangerously close to wanting to kill her with his bare hands.
Her face turned sour, twisted. Then she laughed, an empty, awful sound. “Finally, you’ve pierced my thrall. Took you long enough.”
Anger lashed him. Humiliation too. “This is your Breedmate talent? Seduction? Enthralling a man into thinking he loves you, blinding him to the fact that you’re really a hideous gorgon underneath your pretty face and innocent words. This has all been a game to you, Siobhan? One big fucking lie.”
A sadistic sneer pulled her lips flat. “You saw what you wanted to see. That is the power of my ability. And you can stop calling me that name. I’m beyond tired of hearing it.”
Rafe frowned at this new revelation. “If you’re not Siobhan O’Shea, then who are you? Tell me everything, you deceptive bitch.”
Then it hit him. “Ah, fuck. Iona Lynch didn’t die in that flat outside Dublin. Siobhan O’Shea did.”
“I knew the Order had me in their crosshairs after they killed Reginald Crowe. It was only a matter of time before they closed in on me. I was preparing to leave when you and Aric Chase showed up at the flat I shared with Siobhan. I had already killed her to ensure her silence, but you arrived too soon. I had no hope of getting away fast enough, so I decided to hide in plain sight.”
“You’re sick,” Rafe seethed.
“No,” she said, unfazed. “I’m a soldier, just like you. And I’m very good at what I do.”
He grunted, despising her now. “Why not break loose as soon as we got you to London? You had ample opportunity. The Order treated you with nothing but trust and kindness. You could’ve bolted to freedom anytime you wanted.”
“I thought about it,” she admitted, no emotion in her voice at all. “I expected to be deposited somewhere in that city and then disappear. Instead, the Order informed me they intended to bring me to their headquarters in Washington, D.C. So, I decided to use that unexpected advantage to finish the work Opus Nostrum failed at before. Killing the Order’s leader, Lucan Thorne.”
Rafe’s curse was airless with his shock. “You never would’ve gotten close enough to him to try.”
“Maybe not. The last thing I wanted was this detour away from my goal. But then imagine my surprise when I learned that Lucan and nearly all of the Order would be coming here instead.”
“You’re the mole.” Rafe nearly spat the words. “I was so sure it would be Kaya, but it was you leaking intel to Opus.” He glanced once more to the crates of wired ultraviolet ammunition and his veins iced over. “Now you’re planning to kill us all.”
She smiled. “You’ve all made it so easy. How can I resist when you’ve brought me the very weapon I need to take out most of the Order in one fell swoop?”
Pretty, evil eyes looked up at him sweetly. “But now you have to die first.”
Pain seared him, a sudden sharp jolt to his gut. He didn’t realize she held a weapon concealed somewhere on her person. Perhaps whatever power she’d been wielding over him when he found her here a few minutes ago had obscured the threat from his notice.
She stabbed him again, driving the blade into the center of his chest. Directly into his heart.
His fangs erupted from his gums on the roar that ripped out of his throat. She darted back, out of his reach as he sagged to his knees, astonished by the accuracy of her strike.
Blood poured through his fingers, too much of it and the wound far too grievous. His ability to mend wounds with his hands only worked on others. As for his Breed capacity to self-heal, he hadn’t taken a blood Host for nearly a week, starving for the Breedmate who had denied him her vein only to smile as she now stood before him and took his life.
His vision fading, Rafe collapsed to the floor, a growing pool of blood gathering all around him.
Iona Lynch watched him suffer for a moment, then she turned and went back to her work.