Men in packs tended to think with their balls rather than their brains, believing themselves too intimidating for anyone in their right mind to target. That could give a nice advantage, if you played it right.

TamLin played it.

He strode right up to the three cybans and took advantage of their half-second of disbelief, before the macros kicked in, to twist the right wrist of the leftmost soldier and impact his knee.

The man was too well-trained to not respond appropriately to minimize the damage, but TamLin hadn’t expected to take him down that readily. His target spun—aiming to distract TamLin while the two others nabbed Raleigh, who was foolishly trying to engage them.

But she had programming to override, some of it hard-coded—beacons had all sorts of lovely side effects—and so TamLin ducked around his first target and grabbed (and broke) a nearby glass bottle and stabbed the man closest to snatching Second’s cyban roommate.

The three men swapped mutters that they obviously didn’t expect TamLin to be able to translate, because they were caught off-guard when he snapped counters in advance of their blitz.

One down, two to go.

Apex universes were so predictable.

Case in point: Raleigh, frozen in position and eyes dancing as programming took hold. He glimpsed her gills fluttering, too, which meant somebody was hacking her.

So maybe, instead of getting captured, Janni was playing with wireless networking and the cyban’s programming. That would’ve fit Second’s expression, too. Particularly since Janni could’ve done that months ago and avoided this whole mess.

He let out a snort and took care of the second of the three by driving the stem of a cocktail glass to a kidney.

The remaining one had some silver at his temples, marking him as likely the oldest of the three. That made him the most practiced at manipulating his own macros. Possibly even the team leader—but Second had mentioned a commander, so likely not. The highest-ranking part of the team would be kept with the command staff, by their exit point. Ostensibly to guard it, of course, not to give the cybans’ on-site handler a quick scapegoat and way out if things went to hell.

“She’s not from your universe,” the remaining man said. “What do you care?”

TamLin pointed at his own uniform. “Public security.”

Whether he cared personally was irrelevant to the fact that he was supposed to care professionally. One of the reasons he’d applied at StretSec to begin with, when he was new to this somewhen and in search of a job.

“She belongs to us.”

If this cyban was redefining ‘us’ to omit himself, TamLin would allow that they certainly thought Raleigh belonged to them. “Y’all dumped her here. We take care of our own.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at him. “You’re not from this universe, either.”

“Astute,” TamLin said dryly, redirecting the fist aimed at his cheek by shunting the man’s wrist aside with his forearm. “Is that why your boss sent you to get your head torn off?”

Concern flickered across the cyban’s face, so he already knew that he was too adept at dodging protocol for his handlers’ comfort. “If you know so much about us, why didn’t you do anything about her beacon?”

“When I find my ex, I certainly will be asking her that,” TamLin answered agreeably.

Janni knew what apex universes were like, knew about the beacons handlers put in cybans—how cybans were usually slaves in all but name, and made out of people nobody would know to miss. Raleigh had been with Janni long enough that she should have at least checked things and incorporated failsafes.

Janni knew to check that shit. That she’d left it meant she’d intentionally left Raleigh vulnerable.

Fucking with someone’s sovereignty was a dick move. And she called him heartless.

He sashayed out of the way of the cyban’s knee, and he noticed that the cyban was going a little slower, a little sloppier. So the man wanted TamLin to take him down, didn’t want to take Raleigh back to whatever awaited her in her native universe, which suggested she was slotted for…

“Processing?” TamLin asked.

The cyban grimaced.

Processing it was, then. He let his expression harden. “You scout, grab, or hold?”

“Grab,” the cyban answered, query and fear-ridden hope in his eyes.

“Yeah,” TamLin answered, not letting himself sigh. Janni would’ve noticed the scouting party, which meant she’d let all this happen on purpose. “Figured.”

He palmed the injector of pinchette from his equipment and took advantage of the next opening in the fight to dose the cyban. The body booster was banned in most somewhens—sure, it upped survival in certain types of emergencies, but it always hit the street and killed too many, thanks to what it did to the aorta. This somewhen was still in the difficult-but-legal-to-procure stage of production for the drug, which he was taking advantage of.

The cyban’s medical protocols recognized the drug as potentially lethal and kicked him into trance mode to reduce risk to his life. TamLin caught the man before he hit the floor and gently lowered him the rest of the way. No need to add to the bruising.

Drugging a person without their consent wasn’t TamLin’s usual schtick, but he could understand why it appealed to some. Then again, he could understand why some assholes got off on rape, so comprehension wasn’t exactly endorsement or condonation, where he was concerned.

“What did you give him?”

TamLin whirled to face Misha, who was holding a green fizzy drink and looked uncertain if he should be pleased at the lack of civilian damage or appalled at the method TamLin had used.

“Something to keep him from being able to attack us for the time being.” He glanced around, but Kasy wasn’t in sight and Raleigh was still getting hacked. “Where’s—”

“She found, um, your ex? I think?” Misha gave a self-conscious shrug and sipped his drink. “Jane, Jean…”

“Janni,” he said flatly, giving the name she used rather than the one she’d been given at Naming.

The fact that his bondmate was letting all this happen on purpose said she was bored—and that boredom explained Second’s reaction to Janni’s presence. Kasy and Misha didn’t understand enough of what was going on to be able to recognize her games. Second, on the other hand…

“Ass,” Second muttered.

He glanced back, startled that she’d approached without him noticing. From her crouch, he assumed she’d just jumped down from the second floor. That had been swift.

And her voicing of his thoughts was both troubling and dangerous for her.

He commented, “Exposure to me seems to have had a deleterious effect on your vocabulary.”

She studied him for a moment, though not as if he’d startled her, and then shrugged acquiescence.

“You got the sei?” he asked. Considering the distance she had to travel and the quantity she had to take down, the timeline was odd. Maybe she had Jumped?

She wrinkled her nose. “Norms.”

He blinked. Norms couldn’t usually cross universes. That they could enter this somewhen meant it qualified as a ‘convergence’—which meant Shadow Corps would notice soon, which meant there was going to be a purge.

As if he didn’t already have enough problems.

“Fuck,” she cheerfully agreed.

He eyed her sidelong.

She shrugged. “Mom’ll assume Shadow Corps got Nev.”

There was benefit in that. He was unconvinced the upsides outweighed the downsides. Second’s mother could just send various Named from her own universe. Shadow Corps, though…

“You’ve never encountered Shadow Corps before,” he realized. Competent mergers usually didn’t, unless they chose to or unless they violated timespace so egregiously that Shadow Corps could track them down.

Second shook her head, but she was watching him, curiosity in her eyes. “You don’t trust Janni to hide you?”

He gave Second a flat look.

“I think she would,” Second said. “It’s fun for her.”

“Unless I tick her off too much.” He glanced at a nearby bar and signaled the bartender for…something. Anything. He was far too tense for anyone’s safety.

Second just watched him.

TamLin snorted as the obvious occurred to him. “But she wouldn’t dare because you’d retaliate if she didn’t. That’s what you’re saying?”

She answered with a flicker of a smile.

Nice. He was protected from his bondmate by an alternate-universe version of her that legally wasn’t even a person. As if that wasn’t fucked up.

“Janni doesn’t mean to be mean,” Second said quietly.

And that was the root of why TamLin couldn’t hate his bondmate, no matter how much he resented her. “I know.”