“You’re kinda cute when you’re delusional. Now, if you’d like to fuck I’m still game.” Her sultry voice was back, Maryanne crawling towards him like a playful kitten. “Otherwise, go pester someone else.”
Disgusted with the woman and her malice, Corday told her to go fuck herself before storming out of her home.
When he was gone, Maryanne let out a long breath and let her head fall back against the couch. For a second there, she’d been so certain Claire’s other lovesick puppy could see right through her act. But she’d done well. Even Shepherd would have to agree, and she was certain he’d seen every last moment of the conversation from the surveillance equipment she knew he’d stashed all over her home.
Now she needed to brace for Shepherd’s reaction, because it was clear the psychopath had it bad for Claire and possessed no clue how to properly handle such feelings. Shit, he’d almost ripped her head off when Claire only kissed her goodbye once.
Did anyone appreciate how much she was actually doing to help these resistance assholes? And Enforcer Corday, Maryanne hated his fucking guts, and was keeping him alive when all she’d have to do to assure his slow death was hint that the Omega lived, or warn him that there was absolutely no plausible way to get to her.
But, if what the Beta claimed were true, Corday may have saved Claire simply by opening his big, fat mouth. Shepherd would not expose his mate to danger. Heck, he wouldn’t even expose her to anything but plastic cutlery.
Maryanne raised her head and decided she deserved a medal. After all, what if Corday had actually taken her up on the offer to bang her?
Shuddering at the thought, she stood and went to take a very hot shower.Jules watched the screen, having heard every last murmured insult traded between Maryanne Cauley and Enforcer Corday. Rooted, overlooking several monitors mounted on the Command Center’s wall, he issued an immediate order. “Summon Shepherd. Code Red.”
The Alpha was at the Citadel, less than five minutes away. That was all the time Jules required to initiate command sequence Exodus.
When his commander arrived, Shepherd watched the recorded exchange; he looked to his second-in-command. It wasn’t a ruse on the Enforcer’s part; Shepherd could read the pathetic resistance fighter too well. Onscreen there was no scheme or subterfuge. The man believed every word he’d spoken, was disturbed by it. Furthermore, Maryanne Cauley had begun to pace once the Beta slammed the door. Both of them had been infected with what would be dangerous intention.
Shepherd knew the cause of the disease.
Love.
Maryanne, Shepherd could control, but the Beta was going to be a problem. He would have to be disposed of, deal with Claire or no.
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.”