Judging from their condition, the sacrifice he'd intended would not have helped the pack enough. Jones was afraid, and he'd pumped them all too full of silver. Adam, though, was now free of the effects of all those darts. He could do more for the pack, but he didn't want Mercy to deplete herself keeping him healthy. So he would wait until it was necessary.
Perhaps the soldier who moved like water through the densely populated room would give him other opportunities. The human stepped over Warren's still body and crouched, finally, in front of Adam. He settled in close, because Adam could feel the disturbance the man's breath made in the air.
"Alpha," said the man who'd reprimanded Mr. Jones after he'd shot Peter, the one who seemed to be in charge of the military or pseudo-military rank and file.
Adam opened his eyes. The other man was crouched so his head was level with Adam's, close enough to see the whites of his eyes. He was wearing the familiar black armor, and his face was blackened and mottled with a fresh application of greasepaint.
Warren was lying just behind him, and Adam saw the gleam of his eyes in the darkness. Darryl slid closer, his chains silent as the big man moved. Adam made a move with the hand away from his enemy observer, and Warren, then Darryl subsided.
Adam was in no danger. Free of the silver and drugs, Adam could have crushed his throat before the man took his next breath. It was tempting. Very.
But this one wasn't the man who'd killed Peter, so Adam waited to see why he was here. Killing was easy. It could be done at any time.
"We are going," the other man said in a conversational voice. "Leaving our employment here."
Adam lifted his head and met the other man's gaze. After a brief count, his opponent turned his head.
"You aren't as foggy as my employers think, secret knock 'em out darts that work on werewolves or not," said the enemy soldier. "They don't affect you the way they are supposed to, I saw that right off, even if Jones chooses not to. So you might have picked up that I had some men waiting at Kyle Brooks's house with orders to capture your wife, your daughter, and Ben Shaw because our intelligence said that was where they would probably go. Early this morning, the police broke up the party - " He quit speaking for a moment and stared at Adam's face. "And how do you know that?" He shook his head and spoke to himself. "Freaking supernatural bullshit. I told them we should stay out of it, but the money was too good, and we always like to keep the government happy with us. Keeps us employed."
He sat there in front of Adam and thought some more. Patience, Adam counseled himself, there was more information here, and it would be easier if the man chose to tell him about it himself.
"So we ended up with one of ours dead and three in custody - and your wife is talking to the police about how someone kidnapped your pack and wants you to go kill the good Senator Campbell. I thought maybe one of my boys talked out of turn - which they wouldn't. But maybe she knew about it the same way you know what went down this morning, huh?"
He waited a moment, but both he and Adam knew that Adam wasn't going to respond.
"Now my outfit is pretty big news, and we make good money. With no civilians dead, it didn't take our lawyers long to get the rest out - and once out, they're all the way out. Too many eyes on them to make them useful for this operation. No worries, we have the resources to replace them with operatives with clean slates and redeploy the hot ones somewhere less worrisome - out of the country until certain people forget the ones who work for a paycheck and keep after the people who pay the money, you know what I mean?"
Adam didn't say anything, just waited for the man to get to the point.
"I'll tell you the truth," he said slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Maybe he did. "I asked to be in on this. You are demon spawn, you werewolves and the fae and the witches. All of you need to die, and someday I hope to be one of the people called upon to rid your scourge from the earth."
And Adam smelled the fear on him for the first time, fear and eagerness for blood. Adam was sympathetic; he was afraid for his people, for Mercy - and hungry for blood, too.
"But I didn't get where I am by working against the rules," the mercenary said. "Rules keep people alive and keep the money flowing. Rules say that the people who hire us don't get to kill us when we've served our part or because we know things they don't want to get out. We don't talk - and we police our own if someone thinks about singing inconveniently." He met Adam's eyes briefly again. "You know about rules, you wolves. I've heard that."
The mercenary paused, waiting for a response that didn't come. When it was clear his invitation to talk had been turned down, he continued. "So these guys had a flight out of here for the morning, but Slick - one of the ones who got away - he went over to the hotel where everyone should be and surprised a government cleanup crew and the bodies of my men who should have been alive. He managed to get away and contact me. All casualties, no survivors but Slick. He's taking a roundabout way to a rendezvous, and I'm taking my boys out. The word to eliminate the men who were arrested didn't come from our company - no one who works for our company is that stupid. We're leaving; and then we'll deal with the betrayal."
Adam asked, "Why are you telling me this?"
"I don't like your kind," said the mercenary. He looked around and spat on the dirt floor. "But that's personal. Someone screws us over? That's business. They killed my boys because they didn't want them to talk. Don't know what we know that is so valuable, but I'm telling you what I know in hopes that it torpedoes their plans." He paused. "Those men took my orders, and that makes their deaths personal."
"I understand," said Adam.
The other man frowned at him. "I'd heard that about you, that you wore the uniform."
"Ranger," said Adam.
The man examined him, taken aback.
"Doesn't mean I'm not a monster," Adam continued. "But I do understand how a soldier works. You follow orders, and in return, you expect the men above you to have your back while you risk your life. When they don't ..." Adam shrugged. "Something needs to be done."
The other man nodded, took a deep breath. "That's right. Okay. Folks pay us - we work for them all the way. We don't take better money, we don't talk. But our employers broke the rules. If they're afraid of something getting out - well, maybe I think that might be a start on teaching them not to betray the soldiers who work for them. The folks giving us the orders - they're regular government - Cantrip Agency. You know, the ones who are running around screaming that the fae and werewolves and all the rest are dangerous and need to be exterminated when their job was supposed to be learning about the supernatural world and acting as intermediaries between you and the government. The rhetoric they're spouting is that they want the power to go wolf hunting before some other agency gets it. They're tired of having to call the cavalry because they can't have their own army."