Page 109 of Commanding Blood And Bonds
“Cheers,” I chuckled, handing her the laptop.
The three of us bumped fists as Brody began a smooth, reasonable victory crawl out of the parking lot.
“To correcting the balance.”
TWENTY-THREE
CRUCIBLE
FREYA
There’s nothing quite like a thief’s high, but seeing Blaz hyped up on adrenaline and talking a million miles a minute was a close second. “You thought of everything, you evil genius—how did you work through the cameras so quickly?”
“Practice,” Tessa said simply, shaking her head, but her lips were just as curved as mine. “Lots of practice.”
“You get a knack for evaluating surveillance over time, but everybody’s gotta start somewhere.”
“I’m not sure Reyna would particularly approve of the direction this conversation is taking,” Brody said from the front seat as he rounded the last corner onto her street.
“Cockblocker,” I jabbed, rolling my eyes as I passed Tessa the final cord—now neatly wound—and she tucked it inside her bag.
“No cocks were blocked in the making of this heist,” Blaz interjected, sending both Tessa and me into a fit of giggles.
“You’ve got a long way to go before we’ll classify it as a heist, kid,” I chided.
“Besides,” Tessa added, “if you’re clever, you’ll mimic your mentor over here and be in and out without causing a scene.”
“It really is the way to go,” I encouraged.
“Always so humble,” Alastair grumbled from where his long-ass legs were cramped into the back seat.
“Certainly not something anyone’s ever accused me of.”
“You sound like Alec,” Tessa pointed out.
Grinning, I said, “I’ll take the compliment.”
“Whoa,” Brody’s sudden tone had us all craning for a view of whatever he was seeing through the windshield.
“We didn’t have a strike scheduled,” Blaz breathed as we took in the litter of teens on the front lawn, Reyna and her inner circle weaving through them, healers busy in what looked like a designated injury line.
The high abandoned us as quickly as it struck. The second Brody rolled to a stop, we were flying out and around the hood. Reyna’s eyes locked on mine, and she jerked her chin in silent summoning. Tessa, Brody, and his brothers jumped to her side, but—for once—there were no taunts or smirks sent my way as Blaz and I jogged over.
“What is this?” Blaz demanded, taking in the thousand-yard stares of a mostly female cluster of mortals. “We didn’t have a unit deploying—”
“Sure as shit didn’t,” Reyna said, pursing her lips. “Woke up to a late Christmas present, it seems.”
Reyna’s “Flying Squad” had returned home over the last few days, filing in and all demanding justice for Darius with equal levels of fervor. To my surprise and utter delight, all her titled heads of coven were women.
Like their leader, there was a shrewdness to Reyna’s squad—unrivaled by any other unit I’d seen in my many lifetimes. Words like knives, eyes just as sharp, they didn’t give me the impression I’d get anything past them either.
Two of her coven leaders—sisters named Izzy and Makena—came down the stairs carrying cases of water, the mid-morning sun glimmering over their radiant mahogany skin and springy curls. Reyna’s girls came in every shape, size, and power ranking—the only common denominator was an inhuman perfection that rivaled their queen’s. The kind of beauty that left men dumb and women meek. And judging by the way they all carried themselves, they fucking knew it.
Makena broke left, handing her case to Montague with a nod before turning back for the estate. Her sister cut right, stopping at the healer’s table before whipping a blade out and flaying the case open like a salmon, passing the bottles out herself.
“No idea who brought them in?” I asked, gaze scraping over once-young faces, now stripped of innocence—some bruised and ashen, others eerily preserved.
Reyna shook her head, a strand of golden hair falling loose from her braided updo. “Just this,” she said, holding up a Polaroid with a crease down its center, the corner bent. When she turned it, I narrowed my eyes at the messy scrawl, goosebumps ghosting down my arms. Déjà vu.
