Bryce blinked. “She never told me she ran into you.”
“Ran into is an understatement.” He whistled. “She hadn’t even made the Drop, and she nearly kicked my balls across the lobby. Declan had to … involve himself to stop it.”
It sounded like Danika all right. Even if everything else she’d learned lately didn’t.
60
“It’s a stretch,” Hunt said an hour later from his spot beside her on the sectional. She’d filled him in on her latest theory, his brows rising with each word out of her mouth.
Bryce clicked through the pages on Redner Industries’ website. “Danika worked part-time at Redner. She rarely talked about the shit she did for them. Some kind of security division.” She pulled up the login page. “Maybe her old work account still has info on her assignments.”
Her fingers shook only slightly as she typed in Danika’s username, having seen it so many times on her phone in the past: dfendyr.
DFendyr—Defender. She’d never realized it until now. Fury’s harsh words rang through her head. Bryce ignored them.
She typed in one of Danika’s usual half-assed passwords: 1234567. Nothing.
“Again,” Hunt said warily, “it’s a stretch.” He leaned back against the cushions. “We’re better off doubling down with Danaan on looking for the Horn, not chasing down this drug.”
Bryce countered, “Danika was involved in this synth stuff and never said a word. You don’t think that’s weird? You don’t think there might be something more here?”
“She also didn’t tell you the truth about Philip Briggs,” Hunt said carefully. “Or that she stole the Horn. Keeping things from you could have been standard for her.”
Bryce just typed in another password. Then another. And another.
“We need the full picture, Hunt,” she said, trying again. She needed the full picture. “It all ties together somehow.”
But every password failed. Every one of Danika’s usual combinations.
Bryce shut her eyes, foot bouncing on the carpet as she recited, “The Horn could possibly be healed by the synth in a large enough dose. Synthetic magic has obsidian salt as one of its ingredients. The kristallos can be summoned by obsidian salt …” Hunt remained silent as she thought it through. “The kristallos was bred to track the Horn. The kristallos’s venom can eat away at magic. The medwitch wants some venom to test if it’s possible to create an antidote to synth with her magic or something.”
“What?”
Her eyes opened. “Ruhn told me.” She filled him in on Ruhn’s half-joking request for more venom to give the medwitch.
Hunt’s eyes darkened. “Interesting. If the synth is on the verge of becoming a deadly street drug … we should help her get the venom.”
“What about the Horn?”
His jaw tightened. “We’ll keep looking. But if this drug explodes—not just in this city but across the territory, the world … that antidote is vital.” He scanned her face. “How can we get our hands on some venom for her?”
Bryce breathed, “If we summon a kristallos—”
“We don’t take that risk,” Hunt snarled. “We’ll figure out how to get the venom another way.”
“I can handle myself—”
“I can’t fucking handle myself, Quinlan. Not if you might be in danger.”
His words rippled between them. Emotion glinted in his eyes, if she dared to read what was there.
But Hunt’s phone buzzed, and he lifted his hips off the couch to pull it from the back pocket of his pants. He glanced at the screen, and his wings shifted, tucking in slightly.
“Micah?” she dared ask.
“Just some legion shit,” he murmured, and stood. “I gotta head out for a few. Naomi will take watch.” He gestured to the computer. “Keep trying if you want, but let’s think, Bryce, before we do anything drastic to get our hands on that venom.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
It was apparently acceptance enough for Hunt to leave, but not before ruffling her hair and leaning down to whisper, his lips brushing the curve of her ear, “JJ would be proud of you.” Her toes curled in her slippers, and stayed that way long after he’d left.
After trying another few password options, Bryce sighed and shut the computer. They were narrowing in on it—the truth. She could feel it.
But would she be ready for it?
Her cycle arrived the next morning like a gods-damned train barreling into her body, which Bryce decided was fitting, given what day it was.