Last Guard (Psy-Changeling Trinity #5) by Nalini Singh

She pretended to claw him, the game one she would’ve never played with anyone else, lest they see it as a sign of mental instability. But with Canto, she was free. She didn’t have to pretend.

Growling in his throat, he made as if to bite at her. The two of them were rolling around the bed, skin sliding on skin and breaths mingling, when Nikita Duncan’s cool voice entered her mind.

I have unlocked and reinitialized the archive.

PAYAL and Canto had together decided it’d be best for her to be in the tech room when she went into the archive, in case she needed to meet with the others on visual comms.

Having changed into a work-suitable outfit in preparation for that eventuality, Payal took a seat before stepping into the PsyNet. Unlike when she did anchor work, she was present in the physical space to a degree, while also in the psychic space. But it wasn’t until she was deep in the old vault that she realized she hadn’t given even a single thought to the fact Canto was present in the same space.

He could knife her and she’d never see it coming, but she knew he wouldn’t. She trusted him. No walls. No shields. Pure trust.

Because Canto would always choose to use his power to protect her, not hurt.

She entered the vault together with the rest of the Ruling Coalition. Of them all, Aden proved the most efficient searcher. Possibly because Arrows were hunters and not just for people, but for data. He got them to the right time period in the vault, then they spread out. Payal considered her search strategy, thought of what an efficient A would’ve done, and dropped into the Substrate.

A small beacon pulsed below the fabric of the PsyNet.

Having fixed the location of the beacon in her mind, she returned to the PsyNet, overlaid the Substrate grid on it, and made her way to the correct point. It took her only four minutes and twenty-seven seconds to locate the file. “I have it.”

Her words reverberated around the massive vault.

“Fast,” commented the vast obsidian mind that was Krychek.

“An anchor stored this here—and they left a marker.”

Not waiting for further questions, she opened up the file. The information rose to float on the black walls of the PsyNet. She reached out to Canto at the same time: Shadow my mind. We have the data.

The two of them looked at the data. It was a pale and silvery ghost against the black of the Net, data so old that it was in danger of fading away. Someone, however, was reinforcing it as it emerged—a person clever enough to make the fix without altering the data or otherwise causing damage.

Her first thought was that it had to be Aden. Arrows were skilled at subtle maneuvers. Then, all at once, she understood that she was behind the correction. I don’t have this skill. She was a cardinal telekinetic with low-level Tp; such delicate power dynamics required a level of telepathic subtlety she simply didn’t possess.

I can do it. Canto had a frown in his voice. I’m not feeding you anything but you are in my anchor zone. So is this vault. It could be I’m fixing it instinctively.

It’s okay, Canto. Even if you are feeding me the information, I don’t mind. Because it was him. Her 7J. Isn’t it strange, though, that the vault exists in the same psychic space as you?

Coincidence.

Or the NetMind playing a very long game.

His response was a gruff sound that made her blood warm. Smile.

“Excellent work,” Nikita murmured. “It took me many years to be so proficient in such delicate repairs.”

Payal didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on the data in an effort to capture the secret of how the other As had pulled off … “An occlusion,” she said. “That’s what they called it. Look.”

Her brain began to pull pieces of the puzzle together without her conscious command, each piece flaring with light in a coordinated cascade so she couldn’t miss it.

It’s been coded for anchor brains. Canto’s crystalline voice, sharp with an excitement that echoed her own. The others have no idea.

“How did you see it?” Ivy Jane said at the same time. “I only saw chaos until you pointed out that one area.”

“Because only anchors are meant to know this,” Payal said shortly, not because she was annoyed—the question was relevant and she liked Ivy Jane—but because she was processing too much data at once and needed to understand it.

She blanked everyone but Canto. Working together, they unraveled the information left behind for them by anchors long turned to dust. But their legacy might yet save hundreds of thousands of lives. Because there, in the encoded data, was a plan that meant they didn’t have to move people one by one.

Fucking beautiful, Canto declared. I can see how they did it, how they encoded it so only an anchor would understand the message.

Because it’s dangerous. Anyone else who tried this would collapse the Net. She double-checked their final conclusion. We’ll need twenty hub-anchors to pull it off. Five more for backup in case anyone overloads.

I can make it happen. They’ll follow your lead.

She knew at once that was wrong. No, Canto. I might be the battle tank, but you’re the navigational star. They’ll follow you. Payal could talk people into doing as she wanted by showing them that it was the logical course of action because of her skills or contacts—but Canto could make people follow him simply by being who he was.

Charisma?