“Satellite uplink complete. Cue image transfer.”

Jacques did not wear his customary impudent smirk. Not for this meeting. He knew enough about who he was dealing with to offer no expression. Every tick and mannerism on either side would be evaluated; every last word would be broken down and reconstructed in search of hidden meanings.

He had accepted the Greth trade agreement. He had accepted the Greth Ambassador. And now it was time for the formal meeting between the Greth and Bernard Dome leaders.

On the wall before them, in a secure room populated by the highest ranking individuals, appeared the massive image of a cold-blooded killer. Like the Beta Ambassador standing at Jacques’ side, slithers of black teased out from the collar of the large male’s shirt, marking a thick neck almost to jaw. The Alpha’s hair was a shade of brown, close cropped in military style, a scar slashed across his lips.

Like Jacques, Shepherd was entirely unsmiling. Like Jacques, he was formally dressed, though it was much easier to imagine the Alpha in fatigues, smeared with blood and sweat.

The images Ancil had uncovered of the man were often times much worse.

“Greetings, Chancellor O’Donnell.” Jacques gestured to the Beta Ambassador at his side. “Per your request, Ambassador Havel is present.”

“Jules.”

The Beta responded at once. “Sir.”

When no formal greeting was offered in reply, Jacques continued as if the faux pas were nothing. “Will Queen Svana not be joining us today?”

“My mate is grieving the death of our unborn son. All state matters have been left to my care until she recovers.” Shepherd’s candor, it would seem, was even more abrupt than his dispassionate Ambassador.

Jacques offered a sympathetic bow. “I offer you both my condolences.”

“Your condolences are unnecessary, Jacques Bernard.” The Chancellor eyed the Commodore of Bernard Dome, weighing him before cutting his grey eyed gaze to Ambassador Havel. Without preamble, Shepherd began grunting out a language translation programs could not decipher.

Whatever was said, Ambassador Havel responded in equal measure, the pair carrying on a clandestine conversation right before the provoked Bernard Head of State.

Mouth growing tight, open vexation storming into a vicious glance, the Commodore cut off further private conversation. “If you have taken the time to learn French, then speak it.” He switched languages, fluidly. “Or do you prefer the Spanish of Greth?” The Commodore’s voice modulated again. “Or the English of Thólos?”

“We will speak on Thólos in a moment.” There was a twitch at the corner of Shepherd’s lips, the nearest thing the psychopath might ever offer to an arrogant smile. “But first, I would like to congratulate you on your upcoming pair-bond. Jules tells me you found a solitary Omega amidst your population and prefer her over those we’ve offered.”

Holding the eye of a male who’d dare condescend, Jacques offered a cold response. “The Omegas offered in trade are lovely. Lucia has already been bonded to my Security Advisor and is with child.”

The mention of a child after having admitted the loss of his own changed nothing in Shepherd’s demeanor. The male was unflappable. Jacques would remember that. He would remember to keep his own temper in check… especially when the Chancellor was testing how far he might exploit it.

“Trade, it would seem, suits both our cities. When are my orange trees to be prepared for delivery?”

“My master gardeners assure me in three weeks’ time the roots will be ready to be packaged for replanting. For your patience, every tree should bloom their first year in Greth.”

At last. The news seemed to soften the male filling up the wall. “If they bloom as you say, I will reward you with more Omegas in our spring.”

It was as Ambassador Havel had said. The only thing Shepherd was interested in was pleasing his mate. From Jacques’ perspective, it seemed the rest of the world could burn for all he cared. “The queen must enjoy oranges very much.”

Darkness once again descended upon the Alpha on the screen, a bone-chilling finality in all he said. “There are no orange trees in Greth Dome, Commodore. The trees she loved were in Thólos, and as your intel must suggest, I destroyed that city. The trees are all dead, the people rot. It is a graveyard.”

Cocking a brow, Jacques simpered, the upper hand finally his. “Ten trees for ten fertile Omegas? An offer beyond believing… unless it was never the trees you desired.”

“My mate will enjoy your trees, and that will please me. But, no.” Shepherd leaned closer as if ready to reach through the screen. “What I desire is… assurances. Therefore, Jules will tell you exactly how and why I destroyed Thólos. I want you to see what the Red Consumption really looks like. And I want you to know that I’m watching. Bernard Dome controls the satellite systems and all external Dome communications. Greth controls a fleet of ships—ships that even now circle the globe intercepting said communications.”

Violent eyes narrowed, Jacques unyielding. “Your point?”

“Let me be clear. Any aid, any ships, any further attempted communication with Thólos, and I will bring a nightmare of horrors down upon you.” Shepherd carelessly cracked his neck, his gaze steady upon the Commodore of Bernard Dome. “We men stand in a position to be comfortable allies. It would be unfortunate to miss an opportunity to work together to advance both our kingdoms over a misunderstanding.”

Jacques was accustomed to court maneuverings, to dodging the knife in the back—not facing open threat to the front. But, it was not in his nature to acquiesce. He was Commodore, and had not become so by embracing weakness. That is why he ruled and his older brother was dead. “I will hear all your Ambassador has to say, while simultaneously reminding you that your ships’ navigations will not function without my satellites. Your threats are impotent.”

The Chancellor was prepared for such a statement. “Should communications go down, Bernard Dome would be riddled with plague in a matter of hours. The Red Consumption kills quickly, and you have nowhere to run.”

The wall went dark.

With a snarl, Jacques turned on the silent Ambassador, gnashing his teeth as he demanded, “Explain!”

A shadowy smirk crossed Jules’ lips, the very first expression he’d made since arrival. “Gladly.”

* * *

Waking alone, Brenya found she’d overslept. A slight headache lingered as a reminder of the awful night before. Blinking tear crusted eyes, she found it was more than her skull. Her body ached everywhere.

Jacques had been too rough with her over the couch. And his strange petting back in the room had not undone the damage.

But at least he had not made her… mate with him again. At least he had not turned her body against her and used the night hours to seek out her pleasure while taking everything he desired for his.

Jacques had done enough.

Sitting up in the bedding, Brenya looked at the white sea of soft things, a place he called her nest, and felt lonely beyond all measure.

He had not slept at her side; he had not woken her before he left. She should have felt some victory in the solitude, but after a lifetime with her Corps, Brenya was not accustomed to being alone.

It felt truly pathetic, but she brought up her knees and buried her face against them. Arms tight around her calves, trying to shut out the nest, the sunshine, and the memories, she cried.

Over the weeks in Jacques’ care, all other tears had been out of fear or pain. This was the first time Brenya Perin had ever cried because she was sad.

The motion of it, the jagged inhales and messy exhales… they were cathartic. Even soft wailing brought about its own sense of comfort until she was scrubbing her face with the heel of her hand beginning to calm.

She’d seen the look on Jacques’ face last night. She’d found him watching her in the dark.

This was it for her. Termination.

He’d said it himself. You are not the only Omega in Bernard Dome.

The weight of his family’s necklace was still fastened uncomfortably around her throat. It had to go. Fighting the clasp, she got the damn thing off, and left it lying on the sheets where it fell.

Whoever wore it next would fit this life better than she had. A real Omega, one who knew how to smile and what to say. One who would fawn over the Commodore, not shrink from him.

It was better that way, she supposed.

After a brief bath, the plainest clothing she could find was chosen. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, her hair, and walked out of Jacques Bernard’s rooms. The cadre of guards at the door silently followed behind like a shadow. No soul in those busy halls tried to stop her when she found an exterior door, and pushed it open to step into the palace courtyard.

It struck her the second sun hit her face—this was her first time outside beyond the breakfasts on Jacques’ terrace.

It might be the last.

She did not know when he would end her misery. It did not seem his way to waste time, and if that were the case, there was one person she wanted to say goodbye to.

But George was not in Central. And Brenya knew without a doubt that she would not be permitted in Beta Sector. He’d have to come to her.

COMstations dotted clean cobblestone streets. Rushing toward the nearest one, wondering why she had not thought to do this before, she knew a brief lightness of spirit.

“Unit 512XT.” All she had to do was speak his designation and the computers would handle the rest. Palms sweating, she held her breath, exhaling in a whoosh when a familiar face appeared on the screen. “George!”

The Beta was surprised, adjusting his glasses as if they were malfunctioning. “We were told you were grounded and reassigned to Central.”

Nodding, she grew breathless, grinning stupidly. “Yes. I’m in Central. Can you come here? Can you come now?”

The Beta replied immediately, “Affirmative, Unit 17C.”

“I lost my designation when he brought me here, George. I’m nothing but Brenya Perin now.”

It took him twenty minutes to travel the distance to Central’s gate, three minutes to clear through the line. When he stood before her, eyeing her odd clothing with confusion, Brenya threw her arms around him and clung as if he might save her again.

He couldn’t, she knew that.

But it felt good to hold a real friend.