Slowly, Dex entered the workshop, biting down on his tongue to keep quiet. Sloane stood in the middle of the workshop, arms high above his head, a couple of thick chains hanging from the ceiling binding his wrists, another around his neck to keep him from shifting to his Therian form. If he shifted, he’d end up breaking his neck. His ankles were bound by duct tape, and he was bare-chested, his black T-shirt on the floor. There were cuts and lacerations spread over his torso and arms, along with small burn marks. That son of a bitch had tortured him. Dex couldn’t tell if Sloane was breathing. His head hung low, his black hair falling in disarray.
“Sloane?”
On hearing his name, Sloane’s head came up, his eyes widening. He shook his head, his muscles straining and pushing as he tugged against the chains holding him. Dex took a step forward when Pearce stepped out from behind one of the pillars, a steel poker with glowing tip in his hand.
“Hello, Dex. Thank you for coming.”
“Pearce.” Dex managed to say the name without spitting it out. Normally he could be objective with his feelings when it came to a case. That’s where his sense of humor came in, keeping him from falling into the ugliness that was the world around them sometimes. But now? Right now, he hated Isaac Pearce, and the worst part was that he had to act as if he didn’t. “I’m here, like you asked. Can we talk? I’d like to understand what all this is about.”
“All right, because you asked so nicely. But first, you can put your equipment over on the couch. That includes weapons, vest, gloves, everything in your pockets, and your earpiece—make sure you turn it off first. And don’t try anything or….” He put the tip of the fiery poker near Sloane’s skin, causing his partner to cry out, his eyes shut tight. The muffled scream shook Dex down to his very core. “At this temperature, this will go through his body like butter.”
“I understand.” Dex released his rifle, letting it hang from its straps, and put his hands up. He walked to the couch and started removing all his equipment including his earpiece. He’d have to find another way to communicate with his team. Pearce’s eyes watched his every move.
“You’re going to ask me why. This is about doing what we do best, Dex. Seeking justice.”
“For Gabe’s death.” Dex unfastened the straps to his vest and laid it down on the cushions, followed by his thigh rig. He needed an opportunity to get closer to Pearce. From what he gathered, the guy wasn’t carrying any firearms, though this place was filled with tools that could easily be fashioned into a weapon, which was exactly what Dex had hoped. Finished with taking off his gear, he turned with hands held up, and Pearce motioned him over to where he’d stood previously.
“Exactly! See, you do understand. I knew you would. He has to pay for what he did to my brother. It’s his fault Gabe’s dead.”
Dex did his best to sound sympathetic. “Isaac. It’s not Sloane’s fault Gabe was there that night. We talked about that, remember?”
“You’re right. It wasn’t his fault Gabe was there,” Pearce replied through his teeth, his hard gaze on Dex. “But it was his fault I was.”
What? “You were there when Gabe got killed?” Dex recalled the conversation they’d had at the pub when it dawned on him. Pearce hadn’t been blaming himself…
“We argued that night, said things we didn’t mean. Next thing I know… he’s dead. If I’d walked away… I think it’s the guilt eating away at me. If I’d left him alone, maybe he’d still be alive.”
He’d been confessing.
Pearce nodded, his eyes glazed. Suddenly he let out an anguished cry. “I never wanted to hurt him. I loved him!” Tears sprang in his eyes, his face red, and contorted with anger and pain. “I was trying to keep him safe, talk some sense in to him. I thought if I kept trying, he would eventually come around, but instead he became angrier and more frustrated. The night he went to meet his informant behind The Styx was supposed to be his last night before he took off on his vacation, so I went to warn him, to tell him he deserved better than some Therian piece of shit. He told me he’d had enough. That I had to choose. Can you believe it? He told me, me, his own brother that I had to either accept his relationship, or he’d walk out of my life for good.” Pearce grabbed Sloane’s jaw, squeezing until Dex saw Sloane wince. Dex had to do something quick before things got out of hand.
As if they weren’t already.
“That must have hurt you,” Dex said carefully, moving so he could be in Pearce’s field of vision. “What happened then, Pearce? What did you say to Gabe?”
Pearce turned his attention back to Dex, the hand carrying the poker dropping to his side. “Well I sure as hell wasn’t going to accept it. My baby brother with a Therian? No. No way. So we argued, and the more we argued, the more he defended this bastard. I was livid. Gabe was choosing him over his own family. He shoved me, so I shoved back.” Pearce wiped the tears from his cheeks. “It was only when he was lying on the ground with his neck broken, that I realized what I’d done. When that Therian punk showed up, I knew what I had to do. Afterward, I watched the chaos. Front-page news, “THIRDS Human agent killed by Therian informant.” The worse the news stories became, the more I saw how little it would take to start a war in this city.” Pearce’s lips lifted in a truly sinister smile. “It’s already begun.”
“So you had those HumaniTherians killed?”
“I didn’t have anyone killed,” Pearce stated proudly. He wa
ited, watching Dex intently, until realization dawned on Dex. He took in the shop around him. All the materials, the tools, the means, everything was there before his very eyes.
“You did it yourself?” Dex asked, stunned.
“See,” Pearce wagged a finger at him, smiling broadly, “I knew you were one of the smart ones. The moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you.” He walked over to the large furnace, the one not in use, and stuck his hand inside, reaching high. When he removed it, he had a long metal box in his grip. He placed it on the table, carefully opened it, and slipped his hand inside. When he removed it, Dex couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath.
“It’s a work of art, isn’t it?” Pearce held up the contraption of iron bands and rings measured to fit Pearce’s right arm with complete precision. It almost resembled a mechanical arm, but with Pearce’s flesh and bone inside instead of wires and electronics. The ends of the metal fingers contained four large metal claws, curved and sharp. “You see these? Each one is the exact same size, shape, and width of a jaguar Therian claw. Four exact replicas, except made of beautiful iron. I figured if I was going to pass the killings off as having come from a Therian, I would need to be inspired.” He walked over to Sloane, placing a claw under his chin. “Guess who my inspiration was?”
Dex discreetly shifted to his left, in front of the drafting table. “Why those HumaniTherians?”
Pearce removed the horrid contraption and placed it back in its box, returning it to the furnace, the poker remaining in his hand. “Because they set Gabe up on the road to ruin. Bennett was the one who started Gabe on that HumaniTherians bullshit in college, encouraging him to take courses, spreading his LiberTherian lies. He got his claws into Gabe real good. And then that bitch gives him a job, starts introducing him to all these Therians, dragging him under. When Gabe asked me to help him get into the HPF, I thought he was leaving it all behind, but it was just so he could work his way up to the THIRDS.”
“And Ortiz?”
“The first two were personal, but it was time to take things to the next level. Think big. Sadly, it all had to end a little sooner than I’d planned. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. On your last day, after I dropped you off at your car, knowing you were going to be his partner… it was difficult. I got sloppy, went after Ortiz the same day after visiting The Styx instead of waiting. When you showed up on my door, I knew the time had come.”
“For what?”