Branded by Fire

CHAPTER 31

The men and women tapped for the second San Francisco operation were loyal, had reasons to be loyal.

“A Psy killed my family,” one man said to his workmate, “but the Council covered it up, said there was no violence among their race. They made it seem like my father killed my mother.”

“Fucking bullshit,” his teammate muttered. “They’ve got those Jax junkies, strung out on the streets. That’s violence—they’re killing themselves every time they mainline that stuff.”

“I never thought about it that way,” the first man said, “but you’re right.” A pause. “Why did you sign up?”

“I’m sick to death of being at the bottom of the food chain.” A shrug. “Maybe we succeed, maybe we fail, but no one will ever dismiss us again.”

“DarkRiver and SnowDancer know we’re here,” his partner replied. “I almost got caught today.”

“We lost a bunch of supplies, too—no one can get near the pickup point.” A word that turned the air blue. “People are making mistakes. We do that, we might as well give it up.”

“You really think we can pull this off in wolf and leopard territory?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “They’re searching for a needle in a haystack.”

“Where do I put the wire?”

“Here.” The explosives expert completed the low-tech but stable bomb and handed it off to the third man. “You know what to do?”

The man nodded. “I’ll make sure no one sees me.”

“Hey,” the first man said. “Why are you here?”

For a minute, the other man was silent. Then he said, “One of them wanted something I knew. I wouldn’t give it to him. So he tore into my mind and took it.”

The word wasn’t used, but they all knew it—rape. The Psy had been getting away with it for far too long. Now they would pay. And if this attempt failed, the Alliance would rise again. And again. And again.

Because the Psy wouldn’t stop until they were forced to.