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I see a flash of dismay cross his features.

“You are mine,” I whisper, grasping his hand and threading my fingers through his.

He closes his eyes as a shiver courses through him. When he opens them again, they briefly glow with his magic.

“You are mine,” I repeat. “You aremine. My eternal mate.” It is not a declaration of love, but it doesn’t matter.

He smiles then, so big it threatens to split his face in two.

I grin back at him, feeling light, giddy. This damn giddiness.

Memnon’s emotions are pouring down our bond. I’ve made the man incandescently happy.

Memnon leans forward and kisses me. Against my lips, he whispers, “I am yours,forever.”

CHAPTER 44

I assumedthat spending my days holed up with Memnon would make the time move at an unnervingly slow rate, but between strategizing and reacquainting myself with Memnon, the days fall away one by one.

I continue sending my parents daily texts letting them know I’m alive, I fill Sybil in on my absence at Henbane, and I let myself actually enjoy a period of time when no one is actively trying to harm me or my familiar.

Well, perhaps theyareactively trying, but Memnon has successfully warded this place against our enemies.

The news still focuses heavily on the killings in San Francisco and the mass murderer on the loose, and there is precious little about the Fortuna empire, aside from a brief mention of a donation the Fortunas made to the Bay Area Politia.

Whatever whistleblowing might be happening by the supernaturals freed from Juliana’s influence, none of it is being broadcast. There’s also no mention of Juliana herself or her untimely death—there isn’t even a simple obituary. It’s as though her death never happened.

I cannot know the Fortunas’ reasons for such secrecy, but it’s clear that whatever they are, they place them in higher regard than publicizing their grief.

Halfway through the week, Kane sends me a series of texts:

Fourteen shifters have forced bonds. They’ve been quarantined away from the pack.

From what we know, the Politia has gathered a few testimonies from supernaturals who were bonded to Juliana, but they don’t have enough evidence to make arrests, nor do they have enough probable cause to involve themselves in the upcoming auction.

I hadn’t been holding out for the Politia’s help, but it’s still a punch to the gut to hear how they’ll do nothing. The two final texts from Kane, however, make up for it.

The rest of my pack voted, and the decision was unanimous.

We’ll be there.

Relief floods my system. Memnon and I will have help. I don’t focus too much on the fact that Kane doesn’t suggest we meet up and exchange notes, nor do he or his pack seem interested in joint strategizing. Their help will be entirely separate from us.

It’s better than nothing.

During the week, I resume using my notebooks, and it’s like reacquainting myself with an old friend. Though I no longer need my journals to assist my memory, I now fill the pages with notes and pictures of the Equinox Building, the murderedvictims, the auction event, and finally, the Fortuna family themselves.

When the day of the new moon rolls around, I find myself lounging in Memnon’s bed and studying these photos of the family behind this whole mess.

There’s Juliana, with her dark brown hair and doe eyes. On the next page is her sister, Sophia. Her hair is a little lighter than her sister’s, and her face is a little broader. I haven’t met her, but from what I’ve heard, she’s just as awful as Juliana.

On the following page is Leonard, the brother of the two sorceresses. He’s handsome, but there’s a cruel edge to his expression that makes my gut churn with unease. I haven’t met him either, but in my bones, I sense he’s the worst, and he’s the one most closely involved with the murders.

Well, him and his father. Luca Fortuna has black hair that has gone gray at his temples, and honestly, the guy has really great skin. How is this guy sixty? Is this some drinking-the-blood-of-innocents shit?

I stare at the family. Aside from Leonard’s slightly cruel edge, they look like normal people. I hate that. I hate that evil can look entirely benign. I wonder what their worries are, what their cares are. I wonder how they love and how they mourn the death of Juliana. I wonder what that looks like for them. How they grieve. I assumed it would be showy, but so far, it seems as though they’re trying to cover it up.

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. I pull it out, ready to ignore it, when I see the caller.Kane.