Page 37 of Truth or Lie

The prospect of a previously unknown terrorist organization operating across international borders to physically endanger high-ranking government officials—first in Romania and now in Belarus—had been enough to finally prod the West into action. Luca Fouchet, the guy Leo knew from Luxembourg, apparently had a fair amount of clout with his government. They’d agreed, on surprisingly short notice, to host a larger summit in Luxembourg City, where representatives and heads of state would discuss sweeping changes to alphomic policy. We were still waiting to find out if Prime Minister Fairbanks from the UFNA, or even someone from his Cabinet, would attend.

“They’ll need to do a better job of screening the staff this time around.” Alex still sounded understandably sour about it.

Alex, Flynn, and I were in the one of the guesthouse’s spacious meeting rooms, discussing the security situation while Leo and Kam were off filming another of her press releases with Nikolayev. A knock came against the frame of the open door. I craned around to find Beckett standing there, with a tiny bundle cradled in the crook of his arm.

Flynn lit up like sunshine through the bond, and I didn’t try to stop the smile taking over my face. Without a psychic connection, I couldn’t be sure what might be going through Alex’s mind. I hoped the presence of Beckett’s tiny daughter didn’t stir up bad associations with her own lost pups. If it did, she hid it well behind her usual cool facade.

“Heya, Boss,” Flynn said. “So, the munchkin’s finally ready to come out of the oven, huh?”

Anika Nikolayev had spent the first few weeks of her life in a portable neonatal incubator that her sire had ordered brought in as a precaution, when Beckett’s pregnancy had begun suffering complications. To my knowledge, while she’d spent short stretches of time outside the incubator with her parents, this was the first time she’d been out of the sterile white room inside Nikolayev’s private basement medical clinic.

“She’s met her weight goal with an ounce and a half to spare, and her lung function is good,” Beckett said, bouncing the tiny pup gently in his arm when she started to fuss. “I thought we’d make our first trip out of the house a short one and meet the rest of the family properly.”

“And it also gives you a chance to pick our brains about the summit, because you’re about to perish of boredom?” Alex suggested dryly.

“Yes, you got me. I’m slowly going insane in that damned room... so there’s that, too,” Beckett agreed, deadpan.

Flynn was already on his feet. “Fuck strategy meetings. I want to hold her,” he said, approaching Beckett with his arms out.

I rose, too—drawn by the tiny bundle and the intoxicating smell of a new pup. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to rein in the curse words around newborns,” I told him.

“For what it’s worth, she’s a bit young to pick it up yet. When she does start cursing like a sailor, it will probably be in Russian.” Beckett carefully handed his precious burden to Flynn, the pair of them taking care to support her head through the maneuver.

“There we go.” Flynn cradled her against his massive chest, a low alpha purr rumbling up. Anika freed one pink arm from the swaddling, waving her fist around.

“Look at you, Little One,” I murmured, tweaking the blanket aside an inch or two to reveal her scrunched-up little face.

Alex had also wandered over to look, though not to touch. “If you came for adult conversation, you probably should have left her at the house.” Her tone was tart. “I don’t think you’re going to get much beyond cooing and baby talk from these two for a bit.”

“Occupational hazard, apparently,” Beckett said without rancor. “Speaking of which...incoming.”

I focused inward along the bond, where the sense of Leo felt closer than it had a few minutes ago. She and Kam appeared in the doorway, along with our Russian host.

Nikolayev’s heavy brows drew together. “Solnishko. Should she be so far from the house?”

“Yes,” Beckett said simply. “She should. And you’re fussing again.”

To his credit, Nikolayev didn’t argue further. “So I am. Forgive me.” He took a deep breath, visibly refocusing. “The filming went well. I believe our attempts at public messaging are still successfully outstripping our enemies’. Our last sweep of the major news media showed a promising uniformity regarding public condemnation of the terrorist action in Belarus.”

He was talking to an audience consisting solely of himself, because Kam and Leo had already joined the rest of us in fawning over Anika. Flynn handed her to Kam, who settled her in his arms and gave her a soft smile that clenched something painfully in my chest.

If ever an omega had been meant to cradle newborn pups in his arms, it was Kameron Patel. I thought achingly of the nameless, faceless offspring I’d doubtless left behind in the breeding pens, and closed my eyes against the upswelling of rage at those who’d taken it on themselves to make human beings into commodities—like livestock to be bred or neutered as convenient.

“Aren’t you just the most beautiful little girl who ever was?” Kam asked, as he and Leo bent their heads close together over the swaddled, wriggling infant.

I didn’t need a terrorist drug to rouse every alpha instinct I possessed, urging me to take these two somewhere quiet and breed them until we had pups of our own running around the massive three-story guesthouse, filling it with shouts and squeals of youthful laughter. Never mind that it was irrational—Leo wasn’t in heat right now, and Kam could never have pups of his own.

It didn’t matter. Through the bond, I felt Flynn’s thoughts running on parallel tracks to mine. Our eyes met with perfect understanding.

Kam stroked the backs of his fingers against Anika’s soft cheek before handing her over to her sire. Nikolayev took her, his body language clearly communicating that no one else would be touching her for the foreseeable future, with the possible exception of his mate.

I wondered if she’d thrown up or peed on any of his suits yet.

“You were saying about the news media?” Alex said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, that part’s been promising so far,” Beckett replied, settling onto a comfortable chair by the fireplace. Like Anika, he’d had a rough time of things. He was still pale and his face appeared gaunt—but there was a sharp glint in his eye as he continued, “Personally, I’m more interested in the possibility of following the BLF trail. The Belarusian secret police succeeded in catching the operative who drugged the drinks. They took him into custody a couple of days ago.”

“Did they now?” Alex said, the same light kindling in her green gaze, like a hunter spotting prey.

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