The briefing room seems to be made entirely of steel, cold and stiff, with metal furniture. In each corner sits a camera; I've grown tired of attempting to sneak around them. It's safe to assume that every time we're in a public space, we're being recorded. 

Much as it was made to sound as if it were of our will, we had been instructed to come here to make a statement. Yet, I feel as though we are being blamed for Tonic's escape and Tonya's death-- this was a much different atmosphere when compared to the plush courts or even the city halls we frequented.

 I find myself dreaming of our home quite frequently nowadays, how we had wished for advancements, and now, I would give anything to return to the freshly farmed fields of my home. My castle, my wealth, my people-- only to have the stark reminder that I'd be dead if I had remained there. 

Tonic's words ring clear in my head as I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and tilting my head back as if extra blood flow might spark some moment of brilliance. We had switched sides; we were playing for the bad guys in his corrupted mind, which seemed odd considering he had helped orchestrate bringing us here. 

But Tonya had already confessed to having taken him off his medication. Could those tiny little pills really help someone so much as to change their personality completely? 

Sitting up, I turn my attention to Verando, who is painfully still. My warlord doesn't often twitch or fidget, where my leg bounces tirelessly; he feels no need to expend the energy on what we can't control.

"What do you think is happening?" I ask with a sigh. "I just can't stop thinking about Tonya. She had just invited us to her home; she wasn't on their side. There is no other way around it; Red is using some form of mind control. Wouldn't you agree?" 

I fidget in my seat, unable to stay still, my skin crawls at the very thought of another situation like the one we faced. I had died in that battle; my sister had become unstoppable. The undead wolves, running for our lives while watching the world burn around us, only this time I didn't have my father's book to blow her up with. 

"Randy.. if she has dark magic-"

Verando almost startles me with how quickly he unthaws, placing his hand on my knee to still the steady thump of my heel. His large hands are warm, and where they used to be rough and callous, they have smoothed over time as life has gotten easier. 

One thing the future had given me was longevity; he would live his most extended life here if I could help it. Instinctively, I place my palm over the back of his hand, and I trace my fingers over his, admiring the smooth skin that is considerably lighter than mine.

 He is no longer my sun-kissed warlord, as the sun had only recently begun to peer into this unholy land. 

I trail along the textured skin of the damaged, nerveless fingers that couldn't register my touch. I should be more grateful; things could be worse. Admiring the contrasts of my olive skin against his brings me some mild comfort; I had darkened with better health, and he had lightened. 

The gesture was simple, a reassurance that we would figure this out.

"Red is a solomonari. She must be working off a spell, or maybe she has developed an alliance with someone who can do it for her, but this is not what your kind was designed to do. We figured it out last time, and we'll figure it out again. Dark magic corrupts; if she is using, she will begin to slip up, and we will be there to recognize the signs and stop her."

Faith. 

I felt like I had had confidence in this cause for no good reason at all.

I had no political backing save for becoming a sort of secondary solution for Red's failures, and heroes weren't going to solve everything. This planet desperately needed leadership. 

Seizing his hand, I bring his palm to my cheek, relishing the warmth he radiates, which warms me to my core as my body threatens to chill. My heart goes out to Helen, losing her mother to her own fangs, if one wanted to look at it as a death by blood loss. 

It reminded me too much of my own mother's death; the circumstances of her demise at least didn't occur by my own hand, but for the longest time, I blamed myself for not doing more. Hell, I was about to marry the man who killed her. 

Kissing his wrist, I swallow back the mounting concern. We would figure this out; we had to.

"There's also the topic that Tonya changed Tonic's medicine, which means... we very well could have killed someone who was mentally unwell. We both know how that feels; that almost disturbs me more." Verando admits.

 I shudder at the thought of being held accountable for our actions when we were in the throes of a breakdown. Both of us had been in hell's clutches; we knew what it felt like, but at the same time, we both understood that our actions couldn't go without consequences. We paid heavy prices for those sins. 

"Speaking of-- What are we going to do about Helen and Tyler? That's not right what he was saying to her.. that's not-" 

Verando stops me with a hard look, though I see that it hurts him just as much as it does for me. "People's lives and bedrooms are not our concern. Unless she asks, we don't do anything. Tyler is-" Hesitating, he chews on his words, setting his jaw with a heavy exhale of what could be irritation. "He's different than us. We don't understand their dynamic. There are plenty of people who would raise eyebrows at some of the things I've said to you."

His hand slips from my cheek to my chin, thumbing over my lower lip before releasing me to lean back into his chair. It doesn't sit well with me; none of this does. 

"The thing he is damning her for is the reason why I am alive. You are the only reason I'm still-- I want everyone to have what I have, even if I know that's not possible. I just-" I stare into those icy pools, admiring the beauty in the unique blue of his gaze. Helen's confusing relationship had me reflecting on my own. Verando had been one of the few people to believe in me, even when I was his captive. Even if I didn't much care for Helen, I didn't wish for her to live a life of shame with the man who was supposed to be her partner. 

 "Helen needs to know that the wolf is not a curse. Tyler needs to understand." Leaning forward, I place my hands on the arms of his chair, bending to kiss him. His stubble feels rough against my skin as I tilt my head to deepen the kiss, exhaling as our lips part only for him to pursue me. 

His government-provided shirt and jeans make him appear too human. 

Without the wolf supporting us both, I wouldn't be here. Surely the celestial being sustains us, but what if there was more to it than that?

I retract my body, straightening just enough as I balance with my hands on the arms of the chair, watching him curiously. Breathless, he takes measure of my sudden modesty. Verando raises an eyebrow at my analyzing stare, glancing down to observe his outfit. "What? Is it that bad?" Plucking self-consciously at the shirt, he adjusts it awkwardly as if I could ever find this man unattractive. 

"No. No, it's not that." My voice drifts off as I contemplate the position I'm in, leaning over him;  he seemed to wish to entice me. His eyes meet mine, and I catch my lower lip in my teeth at the intensity of such a sultry expression.

 "Don't look at me that way, we're being filmed, you know?" I scoff at the boyish grin I'm met with; the man was never one to mind an audience. "What if.." It sounds so silly now that I'm trying to get it out, I shake my head with a nervous laugh.  "What if a Solomonari has to have a lycan to reach their full potential? We specialize. I was more gifted in the elements, but my healing is pretty much gone, and my hand-to-hand is shit. 

Loan was an incredible healer, but he never mastered any fighting technique or element control. Red was always good in hand-to-hand combat and could heal somewhat, but also struggled with the elements.  What if Red is using Tonic to charge herself?"

His expression becomes more serious as he takes in my words. "Well, while that is a possibility given the history of our people, he doesn't have any claim to my ancestor. So it seems a bit of a non-issue. Perhaps don't hand these cameras all of your family secrets though, hmm?"

It had crossed my mind not to speak so freely here, but I doubted the camera's ability to pick up the audio in such close quarters. "If they can pick up what I'm saying, then they've earned it. Now focus, I think she's corrupting him with dark magic? I'm just speculating, but I think it's something worth considering. Given our past experiences, this was a distraction.

 Little stepping stones on a bigger plan, perhaps. Tonya felt like an accident rather than an intended casualty. My theory is that Tonic would establish a divide."

I'm rewarded with a smirk. "You're delightfully paranoid." He leans forward to capture my lips, but as the door handle jiggles, I'm rewarded with a push towards my chair. I settle back with a grunt, grimacing at the discomfort of the metal seat.

  The cool chill creeps back into my chest, and I make a note to delve more into this when we get home. The tired, round man pinches the bridge of his nose as he drops a stack of paperwork on the table and slumps into a chair. 

"Mr.Mercer, you are quite the client, and I don't say that as a compliment." 

Verando shrugs dismissively. With a heavy exhale, Ron produces glasses and balances them on the bridge of his nose as he thumbs through the files. "I don't need to see the paperwork. What're we dealing with?" My warlord presses.

"The Mistress was spotted outside right when Mr.Tiberius showed up, but it is unknown if they arrived together. I had the twins tailing 'im, but he's slippery."

"Well, he's practically a god." Verando's reminder seems to be a welcome reprieve, as it allows Ron to relax. Perhaps it releases him from the blame of losing the man in the first place. 

"I got your text about the sniper. We checked it out, and there was a man in a window with a gun, a tranquilizer, not bullets. They aren't intending to kill you; of that, we can be sure. No one had eyes on the Mistress when Tonic managed to get out that window- How did you manage to let him go?" Ron's tone changes, mildly irritated, "That isn't like you."

Verando glowers back at him, gesturing to his abdominals. "Have you ever been punched by a robotic arm? It hurts." He reminds him firmly. 

Feeling out of the loop, I kick the gray-haired man to gain his attention. "A sniper was targeting you?" I demand. 

Ron interrupts me with an abrupt gesture. "And what're we going to do about him? If he leaves here with all the press swarming around, everyone will know he's alive. You've done a terrible job with this whole... fake death.. you're attempting to pull off." 

Never one to crack under pressure, Verando observes me in silence, as if he could consider a way out of the truth before he settles on deflection, "It hadn't come up yet. I was going to tell you."

Pursing my lips, I cross my arms over my chest. "Let them see me," I tell them both, earning a groan from Ron. "Let them know I'm alive. This has to start mattering: no more running, no more lies. We've been playing this too much from under the table if you ask me."

Scoffing, Ron tosses up his hands, pacing as he runs his hand through his failing hairline. "I suppose that's one way out of a horrible plan. And what do you propose, Mr.Mautesscu?"

"If our plan works, we will have a lot of cleaning up to do... things can not continue the way they are. I-" Glancing towards Verando, I check his reaction, and he appears indifferent to my knowledge sharing. My gaze returns to Ron, who seems skeptical. 

"There are things we can't tell you. But I have extensive political experience, and that experience is telling me that we are playing this too close to our chest. We haven't been doing enough in the public eye. I have been underground, working on the belly of this beast, but now it's time to start from the top. Red has her fingers in this community, and we must start pushing people until she makes a move."

Coming to a halt, the rounded man accepts this news better than I expected. Questioning me seems to be uncomfortable for him, but it's my warlord's gaze that has the man feeling twitchy. I think of Grayson, the warning of what Verando would do to anyone who laid a finger on me, and I can only assume that Ron was given the same instruction. 

 "Mr.Mercer told me you both came to this country through interesting circumstances. I'm just a bit hesitant about whether you're sure of what you're asking. You will be a prime target; we would have to put a guard on you-"

I stop him, shaking my head with a small laugh. A guard would only get in the way at this point. "That's where you'll have to get used to how I do things, Ron. Let them target me. Put me front and center, and let me speak. Your people can't be trusted; we've proven that. I have two weeks left before I must go to France, and then it won't matter what happens. 

We have to make a difference. I have the means to defend myself, and any man who stands between Red and me will be a liability. It will be tough, but it's what must happen if we're going to draw her out."

Glancing between us, Ron slowly sits, pulling out a pen and paper as he jots down some notes. "You're much too young to run for governor or mayor; I thought Senator Campbell was your friend...?" He trails off, clearing his throat at the lack of response from my lover. "Are you suggesting you'd like to start a campaign?" 

I shift my gaze to Verando for help, forcing him to unthaw.

"An independent?" Verando tries. "That is where Nic shines; he does best on his own, so no, not an actual elected position, but perhaps a moral high ground when it comes to acceptance and change. He should be presented as an outlander. Someone who is not associated with the government, I imagine Senator Campbell would be willing to speak on his behalf, and from there we could infiltrate some of these more private gatherings and see what people say when the cameras aren't rolling." 

Ron strokes his chin with a shaky exhale. "You would have to speak to the Senator if you wish to do something like that."  Nodding, he jots down a few more lines of notes before he straightens in his chair. "You sure have your speculations on what you think the elite do in their spare time..."

If only the man knew exactly what the elite did when no one was watching. As much as things had changed, it was more surprising how they were pretty much the same. I did not doubt that if we could find the right setting, people would start speaking. It would take a firm shove, but we had to get the ball rolling. 

"You'd be surprised what people say when the pressure is on and the room is dark. Please, go ahead and announce that I've been found alive but that I'm injured. Let us put the pressure on, say we suspect someone from the Mistress's own campaign, and begin running a slander ad against her. Get people talking, stir up suspicion.

 After Thanksgiving, I'll make a public speech. I'll move forward as simply a public speaker, looking for no seat in power but only acting to expose injustice. I have recovered from near-death, and we are investigating that attempted assassination." 

His eyebrows raise, and I hear the amused snort of my companion. "That'll piss her off," Verando assures me.

"Good. I want her furious; she'll be foaming at the mouth to get to me, and we'll be there to catch her. Ron. If you could keep the police off our trail, even for just these two weeks-" I see the reluctance and slow my enthusiasm, taking a deep breath and composing myself. "If you could release statements, helping them see that I'm on the side of the people, and maybe assist in keeping me from getting arrested as an agitator...?"

He nods. "That I can maybe do. Anything else?" The sarcasm isn't wasted on me.

"Put a tracker on those mechanical parts Tonic has, find me who upgraded him, and give me a name and address. I want to know where he goes when he's broken. Now that he's not medicated, I imagine his mind will struggle with getting back on medication. Right now, we should consider him dangerous. Put out a warrant for Tonic."

Ron scribbles in his notebook, dabbing at his forehead with a cloth from his pocket, sweat rolls down his temple from the stress of our requests. "By the way, Mr.Mercer. Insurance has assessed your home and confirmed arson. But when they tried to access your artifice, it was somehow encrypted. I suggest you hand over any footage of that arson that you have." Eyeing him suspiciously, the agent stands.

 "Gentlemen, what you're proposing is an all-out war on the underground. I hope you both know what you're doing for all of our sakes. I'll do what I can, but there's only so much I can protect you. I'll be in touch as soon as the ad is ready."

I watch his back as he leaves, wondering just how much we could trust this prudgy individual. Verando stands, opening the door for me, and we both make our way to find the remainder of our family. We were accustomed to difficulty, and the most challenging part had only just begun.