Darion's temper was a palpable thing, a force of power rolling from across the desk. "You still see me as a child in need of your protection."
Lucan set his pen down. "That's not true," he replied, sober now. Regretful that his conversations with Darion always seemed to end up in this same place. At this same cold impasse.
His son's jaw was clenched tight, a tendon ticking in his cheek. He scoffed, holding Lucan's stare, unblinking. "I trained under Tegan from the time I was twelve years old, because he is - in your own words - one of the best warriors you've ever known. Why send me to learn from the best, if you never intended to give me a place within the Order?"
Lucan couldn't tell him that he'd sent him to Tegan because of all the warriors ever to serve the Order, it was under Tegan's hard, merciless training that Dare stood the best chance of breaking. But Darion hadn't broken. No, far from it. He'd excelled. Smashed all expectations.
"You have your place here."
Dare grunted. "Advising on tactical stratagems and mapping out ops I'll never be part of in the field." He leaned back now, a negligent sprawl, with his long legs outstretched and one muscled, dermaglyph-covered arm draped along the back of the chair. His frustration was evident in the pulsing color that had begun to seep into the flourishes and arcs of his Breed skin markings. "Just once, I'd like to put my training to a true test, on a true mission, not mocked up in a computer program or scribbled on the walls of the war room. I could do more, if you'd only give me the chance."
"Your role with the Order is no less important than any other." Lucan picked up his pen again and calmly began to sign his name to the rest of the documents littering his desk. "I don't imagine you came here at this hour to reopen our same old argument. If you did, it will have to wait."
"No. That's not why I'm here." Darion took out his comm unit and touched the screen of the slim device. "I wanted to ask you about something I ran across in the headquarters' private archives today."
Lucan looked up at the mention of the chamber in the D.C. compound that housed a large and ever-growing history of the Breed and its otherworldly origins. A history the Order had been collecting for the past two decades through the sole efforts of an extraordinary woman. "You've been reading Jenna's journals?"
Dare's smile was dry. "I have a lot of free time. Not like I'm spending it all on Facebook."
Lucan chuckled, glad their conversation wouldn't end in a heated stalemate after all. "Tell me what you've found."
No sooner had he said it when Gideon arrived in the open doorway of Lucan's study. The Breed male's spiky blond hair was more disheveled than usual, raked up in all directions as though Gideon had just repeatedly run his hands through it, as he often did when faced with a problem he couldn't solve in three seconds flat. Or when he found himself appointed the bearer of disturbing news.
The look in Gideon's blue eyes as he peered over the tops of wireless silver shades told Lucan that nothing good was coming his way right now.
"Trouble with the security schematics?" he guessed, rising to face the other warrior as Gideon entered the room.
"Trouble in Boston a short while ago." Gideon gave Darion a slight nod in acknowledgment, then looked to Lucan for permission to speak of Order business in front of the younger male.
Lucan inclined his chin, a scowl furrowing deep in his brow. "Tell me what happened."
Lucan listened as Gideon gave a rundown of the incident at the club that had landed two of the Order's most decorated teams in JUSTIS custody. "She discharged deadly weapons to attack an unarmed civilian. Unprovoked. In a public establishment.
"Not that Mira needs me to make excuses for her," Gideon interjected, "but apparently the human she chased into the place has ties to rebel groups in the area."
"No, she doesn't need anyone's excuses," Lucan replied, his blood rolling toward a boil. "And you know as well as I do that she's got a hard-on for anything with a whiff of rebel involvement. That doesn't give her license to break half a dozen laws and defy my command."
Neither Gideon nor Dare said anything in the quiet that fell over the room while Lucan considered the female captain's fate. "Where is she now?"
"There have been no charges pressed, so both teams were released shortly after JUSTIS officers cleared out La Notte. They're all cooling their heels with Chase at the Boston Op Center."
Lucan grunted. "She's lucky this shit went down where it did. La Notte's proprietor probably forked over a good chunk of payola to JUSTIS so they'd forget the whole thing. As for the human Mira tried to shish-kebob, who knows why he let her slide. Doesn't matter."
Gideon nodded. "What do you want me to do?"
"Tell Chase I want Mira's team sent back to Montreal immediately. She stays behind. I want her on video call. Right. Fucking. Now."
Chapter Three
MIRA LET A CURSE FLY ALONG WITH HER BLADE AS SHE CONTINUED A VIGOROUS SOLO SESSION IN THE TRAINING ROOM of the Boston Operations Center. It was late - or, rather, early. Barely three in the morning, and she probably should have been in bed sleeping off a bad night that had only gotten worse with a well-deserved reprimand delivered personally by Lucan Thorne.
Instead, on her dismissal from the video-conferenced rebuke and the news that she was being pulled from active duty effective immediately, Mira had headed straight for the indoor target range. For the past hour, she'd been pushing herself hard, driving her body toward exhaustion in an effort to purge the tight coil of anger and frustration that was still knotted up within her.
Her training had taught her better discipline than what she'd demonstrated a few hours ago in the city, and apart from the disapproval of the Order's founder and commander, she hated that she'd let emotion rule her. All the more so when her actions had put a very public stain on both her team and Nathan's, as well as the Order in general - at a time, Lucan had reminded her, when the Breed and mankind needed nothing to derail their hard-won progress toward peace.
He was right, of course. No matter how deep her ache over the loss of Kellan, nor her contempt for those she held responsible, her duty to the Order had to come first. As a warrior, she should be above such weakness. She had to be stronger than that, damn it. But she'd failed.
And now she would have to pay the price.