Sorev exhaled, pleased against his will.
“You engineered submission,” Lyra concluded. Loyalty and control. They were the same to men like Merrow and Sorev; they simply had different methods of gaining them.
“Yes.” The answer came out loaded with reverence.
“Compounds like that are derived from years of experimentation and meticulous testing,” she contended. “They would be impossible to perfect under the pressures of Alphas with no respect for artistry. There must be flaws.”
For the first time, the knife did not press harder in response. Sorev had the grace to sound offended. “I am not a butcher improvising with swamp herbs.”
“Then where are the records?”
Nesrin did not move, but Lyra felt the room sharpen around the question. Their trust in her was dangerously close to evaporating.
