The issue had to be solved internally. Shepherd and his Followers had to be removed. The contagion had to be destroyed. And the infection—men like the thugs Dane twitched to kill—purged. An example made for others to follow.

A day or two of surveillance and her team would demolish the upstart syndicate. Brigadier Dane smirked at the thought of a much-needed victory, eager to see the look on the wretches' faces when she shoved something unwelcome inside them—something pointy—to see how they liked it.

Claire was gaunt, blinking rapidly as she kept as far from Senator Kantor as the small space would allow. With Corday gone, the Senator had remained to question her in his absence, so they might discuss options for the Omegas.

The options, it seemed, were limited. But anything was preferable to the other outcome. Namely slavery, rape, or murder.

But help came at a price.

Senator Kantor was wise enough to keep his distance, to speak gently to the shifty-eyed woman pacing madly back and forth. "You must tell me about Shepherd. What you might know could save us."

Just hearing that name sent her attention to all the corners, as if the Alpha could be conjured with only a word. Stopping her feet, Claire wrung her hands. "I keep telling you, I can't. I don't know anything."

"You can do this," Senator Kantor urged. "Any information you divulge will help us all."

"You don't understand." Impatiently pushing her hair behind her ear, she tried her best not to trip up the words. "He didn't talk to me..."

The look of pity in Kantor's expression first inspired her anger, then shame. After what had happened, that look was one she would receive until the day she died.

The Alpha coaxed out the subtleties of what he needed. "We can just talk about the man, your observations."

"Okay..."

Senator Kantor started off simply. "The Da'rin markings, do you know what they are?"

Quoting what she'd been taught in school, Claire said, "Outcast tattoos—markings to depict whatever crime a prisoner was incarcerated for."

Nodding, Senator Kantor offered further insight, "Yet most are earned in the Undercroft, given from one inmate to another—a testament prisoners coax into patterns under the skin."

"Coax?"

"They are not made from ink. Da'rin is a parasite."

Brows drawn tight, Claire asked, "You purposefully infect convicts?"

"The men in the Undercroft live without sun, are exposed to difficult conditions. We subject them to a beneficial symbiotic relationship so they might tolerate the environment they labor in. And, should they escape, they are unable to hide amongst the general population. Not only because they are branded—you see, sunlight makes the marks burn."

But Shepherd openly wore his arms and neck displayed wherever he went, his large flexing muscles detailed with black for all to see. "That doesn't make sense."