Hybrid by K. T. Hanna Page A

important than a little irritated skin.
    This time the meeting room is refreshingly empty. Jeffries, Kayde, Iria, and Mason are already there. Mason seems more irritated than she’s ever seen him, and she frowns at him. “You okay?”
    He glances at her and manages a tight smile. “Good to see you up and about without your cane.”
    Sai glances down and belatedly realizes she left it behind. “Yeah, that was intentional.” She grins at him.
    He smiles, easing a little of the tension in his shoulders. “I’d say you should take your time, but that’s probably not a good idea.”
    Her first instinct is to scowl at him, perhaps snap something nasty. But it’s not his fault—it’s no one’s, not completely, not solely. Instead, she counts to three and nods. “Yeah. Time has a habit of running away from us.”
    Mason grins, but his lips barely curl and it seems forced. On closer inspection, the lines around his eyes are deeper, more like gouges than wrinkles.
    “Are you okay?” she asks him, suddenly needing to hear him say it, even if it’s not true. Just like Bastian, Mason has to be okay. Always.
    “Tired. Worried. But I’m okay.” His smile doesn’t reach the rest of him, but Sai can’t figure out why he’s lying, and he changes the subject too fast for her to pursue it. “I have a gut feeling this news isn’t going to be good. We’ll probably need your fighting strength sooner than later.”
    “You don’t know, then?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Retaliation?”
    “I’m assuming.” Mason flicks his hair back out of his eyes. “I’m hoping that’s all it is, but Dom’s message only said he had news from the top and would be with us by eighteen hundred hours.”
    Mention of Dom makes Sai’s gut twinge in a weird, confused anger, but she shoves it down and focuses on the matter at hand. “Dom won’t be late. I don’t think he’s capable of it.”
    Mason nods and looks over at Mathur as the old man walks into the room. Sai sits herself between Iria and Kayde and waits along with the rest of the room for the stragglers. James is the last person to arrive but for Dom, who pretty much makes it into the room with one minute to spare.
    Or, she decides, perhaps he’d been there all along because his slow reveal of himself is anything but obvious. It takes about a minute for him to revert back to his original color tones. Sai has to stop herself from gasping at his appearance. There’s something off about it, like he’s still not quite himself. If he were closer to her, she’d reach out—or maybe she wouldn’t. Conflicting feelings sit like lead in her stomach.
    Dom nods at the room and declines the offered seat. His gaze briefly connects with everyone, but lingers just a second more on Sai before he looks away. Or, at least, that’s what she tells herself. Just like she tells herself she’s still angry at him for his role in her injuries, regardless that logic might dictate otherwise.
    “I need you all to listen carefully and try to be logical in how we approach this.” He glances at Mathur and Mason, who nod.
    “I’ve been scouting out Central and the actions of the GNW post-infiltration. Suffice it to say that anyone who is not myself or perhaps one of the other dominos will have no luck getting in to speak to Bastian. Which is what I was doing when Deign and Zach surprised him with a gathering of the board of directors.”
    “Which ones?” Mason asks curtly, reader in his hand, ready to notate.
    “Harlow and Selwyn.”
    Mason raises an eyebrow. “Not Davis? He’s always been a golden child.”
    Dom’s lips curl into a slight smirk that doesn’t suit his face. “Davis is nothing now. He’s deceased.”
    A collective soft gasp goes around the room, fading into a heavy silence that hangs over the room and threatens to suffocate Sai.
    Dom closes his eyes for a moment. “Deign has moved for the Damascus to be taken out of stasis.” He holds up a hand as Mathur stands