To the public, verbally crucifying a dead Leslie Kantor as a traitor was not enough, confirmation Shepherd had been killed, insufficient. They wanted the culpability of the living. Who better than the dead terrorist’s mate, the one found half-dead and draped lovingly over his body.

The Alpha’s corpse had been confiscated, she’d been taken away, and each time Corday had fought his way into her sickroom to see her, Claire had been in a coma, surrounded by armed guards, savaged and only breathing by ventilator.

Standing as Premier, Dane extolled Claire’s vital role in the resistance, advocating for the woman as much as she reasonably could without inviting riots. As the weeks carried on and survivors began to slowly recover, more stepped forward to speak for her. Strangers holding her flyer testified that she’d been their inspiration, claimed the Omega had offered her strength for the entire city.

That did not stop Premier Dane’s soldiers from taking her away.

Dane refused to speak with him on the matter. It took Corday six months to find what they had done with her, petitioning any member of the hastily scraped together government who would listen, demanding to see his friend. He stirred up trouble until the Premier had to assure the torn public that Claire O’Donnell, war criminal, was not being mistreated.

But Corday was about to judge that with his own eyes.

The location of her imprisonment was classified, yet there Corday waited, Dane at his side in the only place under the Dome that was still warm. There were manicured lawns and stunning architecture, a quiet corner of the only functioning region above ground crafted into Claire’s new prison.

It was a location Corday knew.

All this time, Dane had kept Claire in the Premier’s Sector, out of the grime of the Undercroft, and hidden away where no one could touch her. And not only her, but many Omegas who would never survive the close, dirty quarters trapped with the masses underground.

The North Wing’s barred doors were pulled open, and inside Corday saw a place of beauty. There were so many windows that light drenched everything, and though there were armed guards, they seemed employed to keep people out, not force them to stay. Everything was clean, the furniture rich, an Alpha doctor stood waiting to escort the Premier and her guest to the Omega.

The man in the white coat glanced suspiciously at the unwanted visitor.

To Corday, the entire thing was awkward, backward.

Her door was a heavy oak thing, carved and weighty on its hinges, the last barrier Corday would have to cross to get to her. Premier Dane unlocked the panel and pushed it in, the robust Alpha female moving before them to announce her arrival in a jovial voice, nothing at all like the tone in which she’d greeted Corday.

“Good afternoon, Miss O’Donnell. An old friend has come to see you.”