Page 339 of Immune

Static answers for a long, weighted second. Then Hale answers, clipped and cold. “Who is this?”

“You know who it is. Let’s not play silly games, because I’m all out of silly prizes,” I tell him down the crackling radio.

A pause again, this one too long.

Then he carefully says, “Kanai, this isn’t the time for insubordination.”

I ignore him, because I already know this song and dance. I know how this goes, it’s just a matter of going throughthe motions. “Porter said someone had to force the issue before her pack made it impossible.”

The lane goes eerily quiet. Hell, even the smoke seems to hold its breath like it needs it.

Hale says nothing, which is telling enough, and Fletcher’s face hardens into something carved from stone.

Ewan shakes his head and whispers, “Oh, you absolute tosser.”

Valeria stares at the radio like it has grown horns and claws made of razors and spikes. Mercer’s face completely drains of color, proving neither one of them knew what the hell their commander had planned to do. What their commander has done.

I press the button again and repeat lowly, “Where were you?”

Hale’s voice returns lower. “You’re emotional, son.”

That is when I know with absolute certainty. Not because he confessed, but because he chose the language of men who think feeling things makes the truth less jagged and sharp. My father used to do it all the time. He’d stand in a clean room after fucking it all up and then tell me my anger was proof that I couldn’t judge what he had done. He’d cause the damage, then tell me my reaction to that damage was the problem. He’d preach about control while leaving bruises disguised as lessons. He considered fear respect and obedience love.

Men like that don’t need to shout, because they simply need to believe their reasons are holier than the damage. The means justify the end or some stupid shit like that.

My hand tightens around the radio until the casing cracks dangerously.

“You opened the door,” I state, the accusation thick on my tongue.

There’s yet another pause before the asshole finally says, “I made a hard call.”

Valeria inhales sharply, because there it is. Confirmation. All the proof we need.

Fletcher closes his eyes once and Maine lunges for the radio like he can strangle Hale through the small holes his voice comes from, but Ewan catches him around the chest with impressive speed.

Hale continues, voice controlled. “The compound can’t survive hoarding a resource that could change human survival. Her pack attachments were compromising access. Vector was meant to be contained.”

Vector was meant to be contained.

My vision narrows but not to red. It’s white, clean and empty. “You used her as bait.”

“I forced exposure of hostile interests before they could gather strength,” he says, fancying up the words to try and downplay the clear fact that the fucker sold her out. That he betrayed her and used her and got her taken.

“They took her,” Fletcher says darkly. He doesn’t shout, and that makes it even worse. Hell, it’s terrifying to anyone who doesn’t know him. For anyone who isn’t sharing a bond with the same woman.

No answer comes again, only static. Then Hale says, “Bring everyone to command. We will discuss retrieval under controlled conditions.”

I release the button before launching the radio against the wall hard enough that it shatters into a bunch of plastic pieces.

Controlled conditions.

The words almost make me smile. Almost, because my father was a very big fan of controlled conditions too. He lovedrooms with locked doors and rules only he ever understood. Lessons no one else was allowed to interrupt.

I had learned that wanting something wasn’t the problem, but it was what you did with it.

Hale wanted survival so he sold her choice.

I look at Valeria. “Are you going to step in and stop us?”