Reborn (Alpha's Claim 3)

He didn’t know, but he was desperate enough to approach someone who might. “Give me one more day.”

Brigadier Dane frowned. “Fine. One more day to make your choice, or I choose for you.”

Corday left the woman with his precious data cube so she might study and memorize every last pathway. Hands shoved into his pockets, he walked the streets, squinting from sunlight glaring off dirty frost. Light snow invaded the Dome, crusting everything, the white flakes a sign the glass above them had cracked further.

It was going to be a long walk to the place where Maryanne Cauley hid.

Almost three months had passed since the first time he’d found out just who Claire’s old buddy really was.

During a standard reconnaissance mission, he’d seen a familiar face climb the Citadel steps. Blonde braid tied at her back, red lips smirking as if she were the true villain behind it all—the bitch who’d once burst into his apartment looking for Claire had walked right into Shepherd’s seat of power.

She was dressed in Follower’s blacks.

Corday had waited, sneaking closer. It was hours before she’d left, but when the scamp dared walk down those steps, he shadowed her home. It was easy to track her—so easy he suspected she was letting him follow her.

Seeing that woman, one who’d claimed to be Claire’s best friend, had stirred up the most sickening hope. After all, it was the Alpha female who’d come to his home looking for their shared acquaintance, who’d had the clothes Claire had last been wearing, who’d claimed that their mutual friend would have traded her life for theirs. Why else would that sneak visit the Citadel, smirking as if bearing a gold embossed invitation to tea?

Everything was about Claire.

He had not approached her then, could not risk the mission by engaging with the female wild-card. All Corday had done was watch her. Now, Maryanne Cauley might be Claire’s only hope.

Desperate to uncover any information about his friend’s prison, the back of his knuckles banged out three staccato knocks against a traitor’s door. A few seconds later Maryanne was there, smirking like a cat about to lick up cream.

The bitch had the audacity to purr at him. “I was wondering when you were gonna come crawling to me. The men always do, you know.”

Ignoring the female Alpha’s rich vibrations, Corday elbowed past her and barged inside.

Just as he’d hoped, there was a trace of Claire’s scent in the cluttered room... one that emanated from the pile of dirty clothes in the corner.

Moving deeper, tracing his finger over lines of furniture, Corday said, “You have been frequenting the Citadel. Why?”

Brushing against him as she moved to the couch, full red lips held a naughty smirk. “I’m a Follower, Corday.”

“Do you always lie? You know I’m an Enforcer. You know where I live... no one has come for me.”

“I survive. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

The very tone of her voice revolted him. “Knock off the whole temptress game. That shit is never going to work.”

“That’s too bad,” she chuckled, taking a seat on her couch. “I like pretty Beta boys.”

“I’m sure you hate me as much as I hate you.”

“That would only make the sex more interesting, don’t you think?”

Corday snorted.

“It’s okay,” Maryanne teased. “I can smell Leslie Kantor all over you. Going after the Premier’s leftovers...” She tutted. “You must have a thing for entangled women.”

“I want to talk about Claire.”

The Alpha’s shark smile withered, Maryanne grew deadly serious. “Talking about my dead best friend is the last thing that is going to happen here.”

“When you go to the Citadel, does Shepherd let you see her?”

“Claire is dead, Corday. Move on.”

“I know he has her.” God, it was hard to admit that out loud. “I have to get her out. If you love her, you need to help her.”

There was a look of honest emotion, a deep sadness in Maryanne’s lovely eyes. She took a tired breath and sighed. “Claire is gone, Corday. She killed herself. You need to stop whatever madness you’re cooking up.”

Voice curt, Corday admitted, “If I can’t get her out in the next forty-eight hours, she’s going to die. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Maryanne shrugged. “Keep on dreaming lover boy.”

He took a seat at the far end of her couch. Elbows on his knees, forehead resting against his clasped hands, he whispered the greatest secret under the Dome. “Leslie Kantor has convinced the rebels to blow up the Citadel. The bombs have already been built. There is nothing I can do to stop it.”

There was no reaction from the blonde; it seemed she didn’t care.

Corday’s scowl deepened, he looked her dead in the eye. “There are only two days left before they strike. Please, just tell me where he keeps her. Tell me so I can save her.”