He’s carrying the weight of the pack, Kade projects, his mental voice laced with profound sorrow. He thinks his abduction was a tactical failure.
He’s eleven years old, I reply fiercely, tightening my hold on my son. He’s not a soldier. He’s a child.
"Asher," Kade says aloud, his physical voice a deep, warm rumble. "Look at me."
Asher lifts his head, looking at his father.
"You are the Mortar," Kade says, his green eyes locking onto Asher’s mismatched gaze. "But the Mortar doesn't hold the foundation alone. The bricks hold each other. We let them take you because we were protecting the pack. It was a tactical retreat, not a failure."
Asher sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "But they had the silence-tech. They had the programmable matter."
"And we destroyed it," I s
