Reborn (Alpha's Claim Book 3) Page 12

  There was a throat noise, a grumble, as the Alpha absorbed what was slated in the report. There was only one plausible explanation. Leslie Kantor, Svana, was planning this terrible thing.

  A fire in Shepherd’s eyes, a scent of righteous fury emanating from his pores, he said, “You were right, brother.”

  There was no vindication upon hearing Shepherd’s confession. Jules was above such things. “Svana would plan her strike midday, assuring the majority of your Followers were trapped inside. I estimate she would need less than fifty men if her plan is indeed to demolish the Citadel.”

  Of course she would plan mass causalities, take out as many of her enemies as she could with one blow; Shepherd had taught her that. It was exactly what he had done when he’d unleashed the prisoners from the Undercroft. “Push up launch procedure. I am calling for an immediate exodus.”

  “The order was already issued.” Jules had to state the risks, the chance of failure. “It will take a minimum of twenty-four hours to ready the ships. Your men will be scattered, occupied with loading and prepping transport. The Citadel will be exposed, the guard greatly reduced. The Followers might not be able to find all the bombs.”

  There would be no bombs to find. Svana had always preferred human cannon fodder. What they had to fear, was regular citizens ready to end their lives. “What are the current weather conditions over the Drake Passage?”

  Jules pulled up a new screen. “Not favorable.”

  Shepherd understood the consequences. An expedited Exodus had been discussed and strategized at length. “We will fly over the storms.”

  “It would take the twelve ships over three days to collect and deposit every last Follower.” The Command Center’s screens filled with a manifest of soldiers, battle plans, data logs. Jules pointed to the most relevant information. “If Svana stirs up a true rebellion, we may be under siege the entire time, both here, and while annexing Greth Dome. Projected casualties may more than double.”

  Exactly. Shepherd looked his subordinate dead in the eye. “Then it will not take three days... The final wave of our men will not survive to see freedom.”

  “Every last one of our brothers understands the sacrifice. All of them would die at your command.”

  Knowing all of this, Shepherd calculated. “Mated pairs, those who’d recovered their families after the breech will go first. Those in prime reproductive years will follow. The oldest and wounded will remain to defend their brothers’ future.”

  Jules offered, “If we put the Citadel on immediate lockdown, there is a greater chance for our brothers’ survival.”

  “No.” Speaking the truth as he knew it, Shepherd warned that Svana was not to be underestimated. “There is a possibility Svana had this planned all along. Our regime removed her every last adversary. She knows the inner workings of our organization. Taking Greth Dome would be more difficult than cutting down our authority. If we let her know before launch that we anticipate attack, she will strike all the sooner. We have to buy our men time.”

  Nodding, Jules agreed.

  “Svana must be detained immediately. Her capture will not stop true rebels from attacking, but we need her alive.” Though from the look in his eyes, Shepherd was greatly considering killing her himself. “Enforcer Corday is the key.”

  “I request that you assign me to track her.” There was a darkness under Jules expression, a bloodlust. “I know Svana very well.”

  Shepherd denied the request. “I need you here, leading our men from the Command Center while I defend the Citadel from attack.”

  It was very rare for the Beta to question a direct order. “Shepherd, we need her. Without Svana, there is nowhere for our transports to land.” Eyes so vibrant a blue they seemed unnatural, Jules asked for something he’d earned over and over again. “Trust me. I will find her. I will hold her accountable to us all.”

  The future slipping from his fingers, Shepherd conceded. “The instant transports light up the sky, Svana will know her plans were uncovered. You may have less than twelve hours before war begins.”

  In strategy and war, there was no mental match under the Dome to Shepherd. Jules knew that better than anyone. “You can hold her back, bring the city to its knees. Outmaneuver her men, and save our brothers.”

  The Dome would have never witnessed such carnage as what Shepherd intended to bring down upon Svana and her rebels. “I swear it to you, Jules.”

  Jules nodded, wasted no more words, and left Shepherd alone with his guilt and his great obligation.

  Thólos was making its death rattle. Shepherd let the fools scrounge up false honor in the eleventh hour, set a shadow perimeter around the Citadel, and ordered his men to prepare for war. If the rebels’ own bombs didn’t bring the Dome down on their heads, then Shepherd’s vengeance would kill them all.

  The virus would be set free. Thólos would be wiped away, and nothing would change that.

  Had the Followers no forewarning, Svana may have stood a chance at victory. Now all that would ensue was a bloodbath.

  Shepherd would stand as victor.

  When the battle was over, when his family was established in Greth Dome, he would be legendary. His success, a thing he had obsessed over once upon a time, would be nothing compared to the new world available for his son and the children who would follow.

  There would be peace... after an acceptable period for his mate to mourn, of course. Her breakdown was assumed once she learned the truth, especially as hormonal as she had been lately with the pregnancy.

  Claire would not take the frenzy of transport, of flight, and of settling in a new den well if she were unaware of what transpired. Shepherd had agreed with Jules in this, and each man had acted on his own to lay a foundation for her to build upon. Every brick had been fitted together, every hint prepared. All that remained was for Claire to let go of her attachments and willingly choose their son.

  Shepherd had absolute faith in her.

  His clever Omega knew more than she let on. She was also stronger than she realized. Though Shepherd recognized Thólos had been unhealthy for her for quite some time, his hands had been tied on the matter. But her suffering and unknown sacrifice would lead to great reward. All would be well in the end. He would make Claire happy.

  There would be no underground den in her future, only her sky and clean air.

  He would find orange blossoms for her.

  He would give her anything she wanted, anything in his power once this was over. She would be the most spoiled Omega on the planet, because she deserved it—because even if he showered her with jewels and material things it would never change her character. And there would be children, perhaps even a little Omega girl, like her mother... a girl who would probably boss any Alpha brother about.

  But first Thólos had to be destroyed. The world had to be set back in balance so that the woman sleeping in his den stood a chance to survive in it.

  His loyal Followers would stake claim to Greth Dome. No soul the wiser as they flourished while the contaminated bones in Thólos bleached in the arctic sun.

  A year, maybe two, and Claire would be all smiles. She would see all the benefits; she would forgive, because he knew her secret… he could feel it flowing from her even as she slumbered.

  Shepherd smiled.

  Chapter 8

  “Jesus, Claire, I only took one fry off your plate.” Maryanne gawked, wide-eyed, and a little stunned.

  Recognizing that she had barked at her friend, Claire took a deep breath, looking sheepish. She was tired, having been woken up and dragged upstairs when all she wanted was more rest. Shepherd had insisted she go see her sky, claimed he’d had special food prepared and Maryanne waiting as company. “I’m sorry, Maryanne. But if you touch another piece of my food, I might have to kill you. I can’t help it.”

  Maryanne snickered, tutting, “Sweet little Claire is all knocked up and nuts. Come on now, show me the baby bump.”

  Since that painful conversation with Shepher
d, everything seemed to keep coming back to the pregnancy... as if he were maneuvering her into a position where she had to speak on it over and over and over. Green eyes looked down at her cotton dress and the tiny bulge that had only just begun to show. “There is nothing to see yet.”

  A deep, rasping voice ordered from the corner, “Show her.”

  It was the first time Shepherd had interjected during one of her meetings with Maryanne, and it fed Claire’s suspicion. Looking over her shoulder with a pouty scowl, she let out a sigh and stood. Turning sideways and holding the fabric of her dress taut, she made her point.

  Maryanne cooed, brown eyes settled on her friend’s torso. “You do have a little one! Do you feel anything moving around in there?”

  Claire snorted, and looked down at her belly, smoothing the fabric in a small caress before she could stop herself. “What I feel is tired all the time and crazy if I’m hungry... I worry a lot.”

  “That’s nothing new.” Maryanne smirked as if trying not to laugh.

  Looking at the beauty of her friend, Claire muttered, “I was honestly nicer when I was starving to death than I am when I’m hungry now. I mean look at me. I just threatened your life over a fry. I can’t even imagine what other pregnant women in Thólos must be going through.”

  “Before you sit down, can I touch your belly?” The blonde asked, totally ignoring Claire’s mention of Thólos and already reaching out a hand.

  It felt very strange to have anyone but Shepherd touch over the infant that was going to be a boy. Claire had not meant to voice her misgivings, they just slipped out as she felt her friend rub the little bump. “It’s a strange feeling you know. I can do nothing for this baby...”

  Maryanne’s hand drew away and soft brown eyes looked to hers. “What do you mean?”

  Claire snapped out of her darker thoughts. The damage was done, Shepherd had heard her. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She wasn’t even sure if she was talking about the baby anymore. Something was very wrong with this meeting, with how hard Maryanne was trying. The whole damn world was wrong.

  “Well,” Maryanne cocked a little smirk back on her lips. “First you’re going to sit down, you’re going to take a deep breath, and then you’re going to eat the rest of those fries.”

  Feeling manipulated and cagey, Claire did as she was told until her plate was clean. When it was done, her eyes wandered to the window. It was nearing nighttime, the last of the blue sky peeking between the swollen clouds. Beyond the Dome was the real world, a place she no longer understood, no more than she understood her own thoughts as the hours wore on.

  It was obvious that Shepherd, Jules, even Maryanne had been especially obliging lately. And of course, because she felt crazy, Claire’s paranoia only grew at their unlikely dispositions. Shepherd had brought her to this room almost every time she’d been awake, listened for hours as she played the piano or just sat with her in the chair, always touching her belly, cupping, stroking, changing his patterns of touch so she could not disregard them and focus on whatever she was doing.

  Had the circumstances been normal, it would have been cute—the fanatic Alpha father already bursting with pride... just like her dad had been. She’d lost her temper with him twice for no reason; she just could not stand another moment of being touched. The thing about it that had been most unsettling, was that Shepherd had actually acquiesced.

  Then what had the bastard done? He’d pulled out one of his forbidden books... and read to her. And she’d actually liked it!

  While he was reading, Claire had glanced at the shelves, Shepherd’s windows, and glared at the spine of the baby book she avoided like the plague, wondering if there had been some suggestion on soothing pregnancy tactile aggravation with story time. She hated that book, hated that its bright white cover did not fit in with the other books, hated that she was always tempted to look inside, but had to fight herself, to keep distant, because she was afraid.

  To stop the whirlwind in her thoughts, she had pressed closer to Shepherd in that confusing moment, sniffing and humming, eyes closed as her hand stroked up his thigh straight towards the distraction she wanted. She’d fondled over the fabric of his cargo pants until he was as hard as she was wet.

  Claire O’Donnell had initiated sex.

  There was absolutely no hesitation on his end to give her what she wanted, Shepherd going so far as to crawl down as she pressed him lower, her body arching up to silently ask for his mouth. Like a greedy, self-serving woman, as soon as she had come all over his tongue she’d fallen asleep. He must have tucked her in, because when she woke she was deep in her burrow and he was gone.

  She had not woken happy... Claire had woken in complete distress.

  Shepherd was in a terrible mood again, but that was not her worry. It was that dream, that terrible dream of the Undercroft that seemed to come out of nowhere and wreck her mind—the prisoners foaming at the mouth as they watched through the bars as the devil fucked her.

  These horrible phantoms were always reaching; sometimes they touched her and she’d scream.

  Sitting up, trying to shake off the chill that followed her out of sleep, her world fell apart. In that moment Claire was certain the gods hated her, that she was cursed. Moving her hand to her belly, she sucked in a breath, and realized there was a sensation she could never ignore or forget. It was the quickening of her baby, the small internal flutter that let her know her son was alive, and that she was a mother, even if she refused to think about him.

  When Shepherd found her bawling her eyes out a few minutes later, he had rushed to her, his expression disturbed. Her reaction had been to initiate sex again, and for once he’d responded reluctantly, asking her what was wrong. She’d use her lips to kiss his neck, to mouth the claiming marks, knowing it was manipulative, knowing he would not stop such a thing, but absolutely unwilling to explain what a monster she was.

  Since that mating, he’d watched her closely, sniffing her frequently, hyper vigilant. He had a good right to be. He was the father of the baby she had been determined to kill for months, a child that was going to die if she suicided—a baby that existed but did not exist until she’d felt it move.

  But now... what was she going to do now?

  Claire put away her thoughts and forced herself to focus on the guest waiting patiently for her to speak. Smiling sadly at Maryanne, she asked, “Do you remember the night after my mother was termed a suicide, what the government did?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’d sat up with my dad that night. He was unusually quiet,” the unsmiling Omega began. “We were watching a film when they came banging on the door. Can you imagine how my father reacted?”

  Maryanne shook her head in the negative, but watched her friend very closely.

  “Our home was comfortable; my mother had flowers flourishing in the windows. I had friends, did well in school, played safely in the causeways. When they came, when orders were given, Dad grabbed me, no questions asked, both of us in our pajamas, and pushed past the Enforcers. His transport had been confiscated, so he dragged me behind him the final distance to the nearest bridge to the next sector. He pulled me so fast I did not even have time to turn around or look back. We went up the elevators, almost all the way to the top of the Dome. The Gallery Gardens... my dad took me to the orange trees before anything bad could touch me. He took me away from the sight of my house being stolen. We stayed in the highest level, for two weeks, some of that time I even forgot to miss my mother. He kept me there until his savings were depleted and we had no choice but to leave.”

  “That sounds like Collin.” Maryanne nodded, unsure what the point of her story was.

  “I can’t carry my baby someplace where he will be safe. There won’t be any orange groves. No playdates in the park, or family vacations.” Claire’s voice grew darker and slow tears fell down her cheeks. “I cannot even begin to imagine what there will be.”

  Brown eyes softene
d and Maryanne said nothing, could think of nothing to offer that would suit. She was not going to lie to Claire and say it would be okay. Her friend was a hunted woman with a mate who had the power to take down the greatest city in the modern world—a man millions of people wanted to see dead. The best she could do was ask, “Have you picked out a name?”

  “No.”

  “Are there any you like?”

  “No.”

  “Well you better pick one. I can see your Alpha thinking Shepherd Jr. is acceptable, and it’s just... isn’t,” Maryanne teased.

  Claire offered a tired chuckle, a small twist in her lips before her mouth grew hard. “I tried to kill myself, Maryanne. Shepherd found me preparing to drown in the Thólos water reserve. At this moment, I am only breathing for you. If I had died you would have died, Corday would have died, the Omegas...” It was the first conversation Claire had attempted of that nature in Shepherd’s presence, the man choosing not to interrupt. “I did not walk off the ice for my son. Now here I am, alive, and my child is in the hands of a man who is responsible for the genocide of millions and the-” Claire’s voice just stopped before she could add, the mad woman he still kneels to. Realizing she would have signed Maryanne’s death warrant by sharing knowledge Claire knew Shepherd would never allow her friend to walk out of the room with, Claire swallowed and continued, “-the army who follow him.”

  Narrowing her eyes, nodding, Maryanne looked a little disturbed at the course of conversation. “What are you thinking?”

  Reaching for her glass of water, Claire offered, “I am thinking I will name my son Collin, after my father.”

  Rubbing her crimson lips together, Maryanne looked over her distressed friend and agreed. “Your dad would like that.”

  A strange feeling came over her. Claire straightened in her chair and spoke bluntly. “I think you should leave now, Maryanne.” Standing she gave her friend a sad onceover, “I love you, but I don’t want you to come back.” Pale arms reached out before Maryanne could react. Embracing her friend, Claire spoke softly into Maryanne’s ear. “Shepherd is using you; we both know it, and we both know I can’t keep you alive forever. Whatever he wants, don’t do it. Save yourself.”