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“Yeah,” Kade agreed. “You don’t think anything is wrong, do you?”

Although Brock wasn’t liking the suddenly serious vibe that was coming over his brethren, he assured himself that everything was fine. The day trip Jenna and the other females were on was just a quick drive to the Cape. A visit to a seventy-year-old nun, for crissake.

Jenna had a weapon on her, and so did Renata, and both of them knew how to handle themselves. There was no reason at all to be concerned.

Dante walked over, frowning darkly, while Niko waited in prolonged silence for his mate to pick up his call. “Any answer?”

“No,” Niko replied quietly.

“Madre de Dios,” Rio blurted as he pushed away from the wall. “Something has Dylan frightened. I can feel her fear in my veins.”

Brock registered the alarm traveling through each of his brethren now. “The both of you, too?” he asked, shooting a grim look at Kade and Niko.

“My pulse just kicked into overdrive,” Kade said. “Ah, shit. Something bad is going down with Alex and the others.”

“It won’t be dark for another hour, minimum,” Dante reminded them, sober with the warning.

“We don’t have that long,” Niko said. “We’ve got to go after them now.”

With Dante looking on, Brock fell in alongside his three fellow warriors, feeling lost and adrift, dependent on their instincts to help guide him toward whatever threat was now facing Jenna and the other males’ Breedmates.

Holy hell. Jenna was in danger and he’d had no clue.

She could be dying that very moment, and he wouldn’t know until he was standing over her body.

The realization was as cold as death itself, reaching into his chest and seizing his heart in an icy fist.

“Let’s go,” he barked to his brethren.

Together the four of them raced out of the weapons room, gathering their guns and gear as they went.

At the same instant, Jenna and Renata both had their pistols drawn and leveled on the smiling nun—the Minion, whose dead eyes looked through them as though they weren’t there.

As though they were nothing, meant nothing.

Which to this woman, Jenna knew without question, they weren’t, and didn’t.

Behind Sister Grace, two bulky men now stood. They’d been lurking in the shadows of the hallway at her back, summoned forward even before Jenna and Renata had raised their guns to shoot. The men’s eyes held the same cold stare as the nun’s. Each of them held a large pistol—one aimed at Renata, the other leveled on Jenna.

The standoff played out in wary silence for a long moment, time that she used to calculate possible ways of disabling one or both of the men without putting either Alex or Dylan in harm’s way in the process. But damn, it didn’t seem viable. Even if she hoped to use the implant-enhanced speed her reflexes seemed to have now, the risk to her friends was too great to chance it.

And then, more bad news.

From somewhere to her left, another male Minion stepped up and rested the cold nose of a revolver against her head.

The nun smiled her false smile. “I’m going to have to ask you girls to put down your weapons now.”

Renata didn’t budge. Neither did Jenna, despite the metallic click of turning gears as the Minion at her side chambered a round.

“How long have you been working for Dragos?” Renata asked the female mind slave. “He’s your Master, am I right?”

Sister Grace blinked, unfazed. “One more time, dear. Put down your weapon. The rug you’re standing on has been in my family for more than two hundred years. It would be a pity to ruin it by having Arthur or Patrick here blast a fucking hole in your chest.”

Jenna’s own chest constricted with fear at the thought of any of her friends being hurt by these Minion assholes. She waited in tense, terrified silence, watching as Renata’s lean arm muscles lost some of their tautness. Jenna thought she was about to comply, but the subtle, sidelong glance Renata gave her seemed to indicate otherwise.

Jenna acknowledged that look with a barely discernible shift of her own gaze. There would be only one chance to make her move. A split second to