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Authors: Josie Litton

BOOK: Anew: Book Two: Hunted
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I never feel safer than I do when I’m in Ian’s arms but as
he fits the pieces of information together and comes to his own conclusions,
the look in his eyes hints at a completely different side of his nature, one
that I feel fortunate not to encounter before and can only be grateful now that
it’s directed at another.

“If either was the case,” he says grimly, “the HPF would
just have planted explosives and gotten out before detonating them. Instead,
they tried to hack past the firewalls protecting the customization tech.
Unknown to them, there was a failsafe device. They tripped it, blowing
themselves up along with everyone else.”

Slowly, I ask, “But why would Davos fund an anti-replica
terrorist group if what he really wanted was replica tech?”

Ian shrugs. “My guess is as a smokescreen to conceal his
true objective. It became clear during interrogations that the HPF leadership
didn’t know the ultimate source of their funding. They were too glad to get it
to question where it was coming from anymore than they questioned the
instructions they received to acquire the tech.”

The thought of what a man like Davos could do with the
ability to create selectively designed replicas tailored to his own purposes
horrifies me. In the propaganda that I read on the link, the HPF ranted about
the threat of a replica slave army driving humanity into extinction. I wrote
that off as a paranoid fantasy but now I’m not so sure.

As casually as I can, I say, “There’s nothing else he can do
now, is there? The tech is gone.”

The pang of loss that I feel takes me by surprise. Almost
from the beginning, I’ve understood that however many replicas exist, it’s unlikely
that any other has been left free to become her own self. I’m grateful for
Susannah’s choice more than I will ever be able to express yet at the same time
I feel the burden of my isolation. It’s a weight that I will bear forever.

Ian’s eyes are locked on mine. The savage determination in
them sends a tremor through me. I fight to remember him as he was at the beach
house, the lover who held me with such tenderness and passion. The man I would
trust with anything including my life.

He brushes a fingertip along the curve of my cheek, coming
to rest gently on my mouth where I still taste the essence of him. So softly
that I hardly hear him, he says, “Our intel indicates that there were only
three real targets of the attack at the Crystal Palace. Two were supposed to be
killed, the other was to be taken alive. Based on what you’ve just told me, I’m
betting that Edward and I were in the first category. Our deaths would have
left you effectively unprotected, clearing the way for Davos to acquire the
only remaining source of the tech he wants badly enough to kill for--you.”

The thought of the two men I care for deeply, albeit in
entirely different ways, being harmed sends a wave of nausea through me. My
throat is tight as I say, “I’ve put you and my brother in danger just by
existing. But how could Davos have found out what I am?”

“He may not have. He may just suspect. Whatever the case,
you’re not at fault in any way. You really have to understand that, Amelia. You
bear no responsibility for any of this. Davos has asked for what he’s about to
get and I’m more than happy to give it to him.”

For a moment longer, he touches me with such tenderness that
I have to blink away tears. Even as I do so, his face hardens again, his manner
becoming remote, unreachable. I watch in unwilling fascination as he completes
the transformation from the Ian I know and cherish to someone I’ve always
sensed within him but have never had to face before. The warrior who Charles
Davos has so foolishly awakened, born for battle and capable of acting without
a shred of mercy.

Chapter Twenty-one

Ian

 

“T
here’s nothing to
discuss.” I can’t believe that Amelia thinks there is. We’re back in the
penthouse where I brought her as soon as Davos’ sick plan became clear. I have
to give the bastard credit, he concealed his interest in replica technology so
well that not even Gab unearthed it. If not for the knowledge hidden in Amelia,
we still wouldn’t know. I’d be worried that he hated replicas and wanted to
harm her for that reason but I wouldn’t have put it together with the attack on
the Crystal Palace to realize what he truly intends.

I don’t doubt for a moment that Susannah was right about
Davos’ efforts to acquire the most advanced replica technology for his own
perverse purposes. She was a highly intelligent woman, meticulous in her
approach to everything she did and never inclined to jump to conclusions. But
beyond that, my own instincts have been telling me all along that he’s an enemy
who needs to be crushed. I should have listened to them the moment he showed
the slightest interest in Amelia.

My priorities are starkly clear. I want Davos’ throat in my
hands. I want to feel him struggle as all hope drains from him. I want to look
into his eyes at the moment that the light in them flickers and dies. A garrote
would be faster, a knife or a gun even more so. But given the threat he poses
to Amelia, I won’t be satisfied with anything less than the personal touch.

“You can’t just go after him on your own,” she insists.
We’re standing in the great room. Hodge is hovering, discretely out of sight
but nearby. He’ll take care of her. I’ve already given orders that she isn’t to
leave Pinnacle House until I say otherwise. There’s nothing more to keep me
from what needs to be done except that Amelia won’t stop talking. Worse yet,
she doesn’t sound hysterical or pleading or anything like that. Instead, she’s
calm, clear and determined. I can’t help but admire how she stands up to me at
the same time that I wouldn’t mind just a little of the submission that she
gives to me when I’m deep inside her.

“The Council is already aware of your role in destroying the
HPF,” she continues, dragging my thoughts away from the contemplation of her
exquisite body arching in ecstasy as I make her come. “They must also at least
suspect that you had something to do with what happened at the Crystal Palace,”
she goes on relentlessly. “If you add killing one of the most powerful men in
the city to that list--”

“Not ‘if’,” I say emphatically. “When.” I’m not about to
give any ground on this. If she can’t understand what I’m about to do, she has to
at least accept it.

Instead, she says, “You aren’t above the law, Ian, however
unjust it is. If you’re seen as posing a threat to the established order, there
won’t be any limits to the response against you. What happens then?”

“Look around you, Amelia,” I snarl. “You’re standing on top
of a fucking fortress. I command the largest private military force in the
country. Hell, in the world.”

I didn’t set out to create that but it happened all the
same, yet another example of nature abhorring a vacuum. The willingness of
public leaders to take credit for every success while shielding themselves from
responsibility for any failure makes the existence of private forces to
covertly handle the really tough jobs essential. I don’t like that but I don’t
regret it either, especially when it means that I have the resources to protect
what is mine.

“I understand that your people are fiercely loyal to you,”
Amelia says, “But what happens if you can’t intimidate the Council into letting
you do what you want? What if they order the MPS or other forces they could
bring in to stop you and fighting breaks out? Here, in a crowded city filled
with civilians--men, women, children. Can you honestly say that there won’t be
collateral damage, possibly a great deal of it? And what about afterward? Who
picks up the pieces and how? You’ve told me yourself that you’ve seen the
effects of anarchy first hand. Are you willing to be the cause of it?”

“What are you suggesting?” I fire back, not concealing my
frustration with her stubbornness. “That I should leave Davos to the so-called
authorities? Do you think for one moment that they’ll go after him? They won’t
lift a finger. For you to be safe, he has to die. There isn’t any other way.”

“So that you carry the burden of that for the rest of your
life? You’re a good man, Ian. I’ve seen how what happened to you when you were
a boy haunts you. How much worse will this be?”

“Amelia…I’ve killed before. What do you think happened at
the Crystal Palace?”

“You were in a battle then, as I’m sure you’ve been all too
many times. This is different. Vigilante justice is an oxymoron, there’s no
such thing. What you’re talking about is murder.”

“It damn well is not! It’s self-defense, which under any
legal definition includes not only protecting myself but also protecting an
innocent party who is in danger and can’t defend herself.”

“From
imminent
danger, Ian. As in no time for the
authorities to intervene.”

Oh, my god, she’s sounds like a lawyer. A gorgeous,
fierce-eyed upholder of legal ideals that are preserved these days far more in
theory than reality. I want to tell her that but she’s put her hands on her
hips--the same ones I love to grasp as I fuck her--and she’s glaring at me.

I know that she doesn’t have any real idea of what Davos
intends to do to her and I’m not about to enlighten her. To understand the
complexities of the tech used to imprint her would require far harsher and more
destructive techniques than those employed in even the most rigorous
interrogation. He would have to drill down layer by layer through not just her
brain but also her mind, shattering her psyche and leaving her catatonic, if
not worse.

There’s no power on earth that can compel me to put those
thoughts in her head. “We’re not going to agree on this, Amelia. All I’m going
to say is that Davos is capable of evil beyond anything you know. I can’t live
with the possibility of him ever getting near you, which is why I’m going to
stop him once and for all.”

She stares at me for a long moment before a sigh escapes
her. Quietly, she says, “I know more than you think I do about the human
capacity for evil.” She sounds resigned yet at the same time profoundly sad in
a way that I don’t believe any knowledge she received from Susannah could ever
make her. This is different, more personal, hinting at what I’ve sensed that
she’s withheld from me.

 “How can you know?” I ask softly, forgetting Davos for
the moment and focusing entirely on her. “You’ve been in the world only a short
time. How much can you have perceived?”

“I’m twenty-two years old, Ian, hardly a child.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I have a tendency to forget that
you didn’t just arise from the sea like Botticelli’s Venus. You have every
right to be angry about what you were denied, even to hate the people who kept
you from living for so long.”

Her expression is guarded as she looks up at me. “Why do I
have that right? Because I’m a person now? What about before? What was I then?”

“You know what you were, Amelia.” I don’t want to dwell on
the years she spent without consciousness, her existence maintained only for
the day when she would be gutted and harvested. It hurts unbearably to think of
her that way but the fact is that I don’t. To me, she is entirely the woman
whose awakening has changed my life forever.

Frustration rips through me as she looks away. Without
thinking, I take hold of her, turning her so that she has no choice but to face
me. She’s trembling and her eyes are even more luminous than usual. My throat
thickens as I see the sheen of tears gathering in them.

Easing my grip enough to make sure that I’m not hurting her,
I say, “I trust you, Amelia. So much so that I’ve told you things I’ve never
revealed to anyone else. But something is troubling you deeply and you won’t
tell me what it is.”

For the first time, I let myself admit that I resent her
unwillingness to be as open with me as I have been with her. It leaves me
feeling too far out ahead in our relationship, vulnerable in a way I’m not okay
with.

“I want to.” Her voice is little more than a whisper but I
can’t doubt her sincerity. “I’m just very…conflicted. Please, try to
understand. I’m deeply grateful for my life but I can’t hide from the fact that
it’s come at a high cost. I lost years of that life before I was finally
allowed to begin living. But others are losing even more.”

I frown, not following her. “What do you mean? Who’s
losing?”

Softly, patiently, she says, “Ian, while it may be true that
I don’t have any personal responsibility for what’s been happening, my
existence is still the reason why people are dying. More than a hundred men and
women lost their lives when the HPF attacked the Institute. How many more were
killed two nights ago at the Crystal Palace? And now you’re planning to go
after Davos with potentially catastrophic repercussions for you and everyone
else.”

“You really need to stop worrying about me,” I tell her even
as I cherish the fact that she does. “I’ll be fine. I wish that I could change
the rest of it but I can’t. All I can do is make sure that your future is a
hell of a lot better than your past.”

We’re at a stalemate and I think we both know it. I’m trying
to figure out what I can say that will give her some small amount of comfort
when we’re suddenly interrupted. Hodge steps into the room.

“Pardon me, sir,” he says quietly. “The Council is convening
in half-an-hour. They’ve sent word that they want you to be there.”

Normally, I’d balk at a summons from the venal half-wits who
pretend to run the city but under the circumstances, it feels like a reprieve.

Hodge spears a glance in Amelia’s direction. “Shall I tell
them you’re busy, sir?”

“No, that’s all right, I’ll go.”

His surprise is matched only by her own. “Don’t get your
hopes up,” I caution her. “I’ll hear what they have to say. If there’s a chance
that they’ll listen to reason, I’ll tell them about Davos. But the odds that
I’ll join forces with the Council to deal with him are vanishingly small.”

“At least you’ll talk with them,” she says with an
encouraging smile. “That’s progress.”

I don’t share her optimism but I don’t want to dampen it
either. Davos can live a few more hours if that’s what it takes to make Amelia
happy. After that, he’s all mine.

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