Chapter ThreeMason Jerah was dead.
Those four words echoed around his head, long after he had ripped the knowledge from Bryan's mind. It was the only thing he could think, the only coherent thought in his head. Everything else was noise, static.
Alaric knew he'd blasted his grief out to his people, knew Bryan had been forced to knock him out to keep him from hurting anyone. His touch had not been gentle, and Alaric's head still resonated with the residual effects.
It was Mason's death that saved them, kept the strike team from coming after them.
Alaric sat up slowly in the gloom of the borrowed bedroom, blinking as he looked around the room. His hand still held the pendants and he lifted them, letting the sensation of Mason fill his senses. He could almost believe Mason was alive, but
