Chapter 15 · Cages of the Damned

"Take your hand off me, Ronin."

His grip tightened around my wrist instead.

The cryo-dock alarm screamed above us. Red lights snapped on across the steel chamber, washing the rows of glass tanks in pulses of blood-colored light. Inside the nearest tank, a pale hand floated against the frost.

My brother's hand.

I drove my free elbow into Ronin's ribs. He caught that too, pinning me against the control console with his chest pressed to mine.

"You break the lock, you kill him," he growled.

"Then stop standing between me and the controls."

"Vira. Look at the tank."

I did.

The name burned across the cracked display.

KELLAN STORM.

My lungs locked. For three years, I had watched my pack burn, watched officers drag my brother away in chains, watched Kyle Damon swear Kellan had died during the purge.

Ronin knew.

He had known the whole time.

I slammed my forehead into his mouth.

His head snapped back. Blood ran from his lower lip. His eyes went black for half a second, and the bond beneath my ribs flared like a hooked wire.

"You lying bastard."

"I never told you he was dead."

"You let me believe it.