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ten

Four hours later, I got the text from Mercer okaying me to punch in the code to unlock the panic room.

I didn’t waste any time getting out of there.

I also didn’t make it far. A wall of sentinels awaited me, and it came as no surprise that Bowie was the one to grip my shoulder and blaze a path through the others.

One guy was too slow to avoid bumping into me, which solved one of my problems as I threw my weight into him.

Hands falling to his waist, I apologized as I thumbed the release on the dagger sheathed on his belt.

I drew it as I shoved off him, tucking it into my waistband under my shirt with rusty sleight of hand.

Sadly, my weapon of choice was at home. Even if it had been at work for me to grab, I couldn’t risk bringing it to Dad’s attention. He would have kittens if he knew I fought with silver.

Sloane hustled behind us, not letting me out of her sight, and I was grateful for it as Bowie nudged me up the stairs and out the front door into a waiting SUV. With both rear doors standing open, I missed the copper tang of blood until I was locked in with the scent that stung my nose.

Instinct nudged me to keep on scooting across the bench until I could let myself out and run.

“Child locks are on,” Sloane said softly from beside me as Bowie got behind the wheel.

Once he got comfy, I drew the stolen dagger and held it to his throat, counting on Sloane to subdue the front passenger if they got any ideas. “What’s happening?”

“Do you really want to do this?” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Right here? Right now?”

“Are you guys required to complete a training course on how to answer questions with questions before you get that pay bump to sentinel?” I pressed the blade deeper. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Let us…get you…” a ragged voice panted from the front passenger seat, “…somewhere…safe first.”

The blade wobbled in my hand as I whipped my head toward the speaker. “Fayne?”

“Hello again, darling.”

“You’re working with her?” I gaped at the back of Bowie’s head. “With the Walshes?”

Apparently she wasn’t as DOA as I had been led to believe on that bluff.

And the mystery pet owner? I was willing to bet it had been Bowie who got caught on camera making the drop. But if he was posing as her owner, who was the vampire in the potting shed? What was his role in all of this?

“It’s complicated.” He tapped my wrist. “It’ll get more complicated if we don’t get out of here now.”

During the time I spent locked in the panic room, I had berated myself for not getting to the point with Fayne faster.

She had been sitting there, about to enlighten me, then bang .

Gone in a blink. Along with my answers. Or so I had thought.

Now that I was getting a second chance, I wanted Fayne to finish what she risked her life to tell me.

And maybe, just maybe, I could talk to the Walsh alpha and plead my case to stay in Brentwood.

“Fine.” I released Bowie and sat back, staring at Fayne, marveling that she survived the shot. “Let’s go.”

Not wasting a moment, Bowie threw the SUV into gear and spun out toward the gate and the highway.

“You’re going to let him kidnap you?” Sloane looked primed to snatch the dagger. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m starting to feel that way.” I rested my head on the back of the seat. “Someone start talking.”

Surprise, surprise. Neither of them did. Though I gave Fayne a pass, after almost dying in front of me.

“Stop the SUV at the next gas station.” Sloane made it an order. “I’ll get Ana home myself.”

“That’s not happening.” Bowie cut Fayne a glance. “It’s up to you, Gran.”

“Gran?” I choked on the word. “What do you mean Gran ?”

“Tell…her…” Fayne leaned her head against the glass and shut her eyes. “About Rían.”

“Rían.” A shiver prickled down my arms as the name struck home. “Rían’s alive?”

Cranking his head around, Bowie gawked at me. “How do you know about Rían?”

“I found him.” I sat back when Fayne twisted in her seat toward me. “In the potting shed.”

“You’re the one who protected him?” She pressed a hand over her heart. “Oh, darling, thank you.”

“You saved his life.” Bowie’s tone held real gratitude. “I didn’t know how I was going to get him out.”

Well, that explained how the sentinels on patrol had missed the copious amount of blood.

Bowie discovered it and hid it from the others. Not that I had any room to talk.

“He’s a vampire,” I grumbled, fidgeting with the dagger’s worn hilt. “He’s already dead.”

Wheezing laughter burst from Fayne until tears streaked down her face, and she had to clutch her belly.

“He’s not a vampire.” Her eyes twinkled at me. “He’s far more interesting than that.”

“He was cold as ice when I found him.” I curled my fingers into my palm. “ And he flashed a fang at me.”

“Blood loss,” Fayne mused, her eyes slipping shut again. “We don’t run hot like wolves do, but we’re not corpselike.” A delicate snort blasted out her nose as she elbowed Bowie. “Well, not most of us anyway.”

Bowie shared the laugh, but he sobered after catching the annoyance pinching my face.

“As to what he is,” Fayne said, noticing my expression too, “I imagine he’ll want to show you himself.”

“Anything to avoid giving an answer.” I considered using the knife handle to smash the window. “You and Dad have a lot in common.” I stared at the back of Bowie’s head. “He’ll kill you for betraying him.”

“He’ll have to catch me first.” He flashed a broad smile at the open road. “I’ve spent the last year in this form, and as of tonight, I’m free of it.” He slid a glance at Fayne. “As soon as Gran is up to unraveling me anyway.”

“This form?” Sloane scooted closer to me. “What does that mean?”

“Bowie Ferguson—the boy you grew up with—died in a collision. He flew to Los Angeles to race in an invitation-only event on Mulholland Drive. Bowie took Dead Man’s Curve too fast and flipped his Maserati GT2 Stradale at two hundred miles per hour.”

“And you let everyone think…?” The moisture dried from my mouth. “What about his parents?”

“He and Lyra are estranged from their parents, who sought to keep Sartori’s favor after the tooth incident.”

Unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I snarled, “You’re trying to say this is my fault?”

“Not at all, darling.” Fayne reached back and patted my knee. “Not one bit of this is your fault.”

“Does that mean,” Sloane asked, “their parents don’t know Bowie is dead?”

“They’re aware of the wreck, but they believe Bowie survived.” His hands flexed on the wheel, betraying his discomfort with the topic. “Any inconsistencies in my behavior, including gaps in my memory, have been chalked up to a catastrophic head injury even shifter healing couldn’t entirely fix.”

“That worked out well for you,” I said coolly, hating that Bowie’s parents were about to lose him again. For good this time.

Far too soon, Bowie—or whatever his name was—cut the wheel, putting us on Main Street in Brentwood.

“As happy as I am to have Ana one step closer to home, you can’t think stopping here is a good idea.” Sloane scoffed a disbelieving laugh. “We’re forty-five minutes away from pack lands. Sentinels will be here in minutes if not sooner. You sure you’re good with making your stand here?”

“Brentwood is now Walsh territory.” Blue light kindled in Fayne’s eyes. “Let him try to cross our borders.”

As soon as Bowie patted the brakes, angling into a parking spot at GSG, a man wearing a hoodie prowled from beneath one of the many flowering magnolia trees lining both sides of the quaint street, right up to my window. Shadows concealed his face, but they couldn’t hide the size of him.

Tall. Stupidly tall. Ridiculously tall.

No one needed that much leg. Except maybe a giraffe. Giraffe shifters weren’t a thing, right?

The guy tested the handle then knocked on the glass.

“Oh.” Bowie laughed to himself. “Forgot the locks.”

Then the door was open, and the hood was shoved back, revealing a rugged face sprinkled with old scars and a chiseled jaw with a scab pulling his cheek down. His lips, the bottom one uneven thanks to a faded injury, twitched in the promise of a smile. But his eyes… They held me in thrall.

I had been wrong about them before. I hadn’t seen the whites of his eyes that night. No. They were pure white, almost glowing, from corner to corner. And when Sloane opened her door and suction dragged a burst of his scent to me, I recalled its warmth with unnerving certainty.

“Hello again,” he rumbled, almost a purr. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Promise twisted the words until I heard one thing but felt certain he meant another.

“You didn’t die,” I stated the obvious, flaunting my keen observational skills.

“You protected me.” His gaze lowered to my collarbones. “You’re not wearing your necklace.”

“Beware strange vampires who come bearing gifts.” I fought down the burn in my cheeks as he chuckled at the joke. “Thanks for returning the charm, but you can have the chain.”

“The necklace is yours.” He studied me with those liminal eyes. “Consider it as a thank you.”

“Thank you for…thanking me…?” I fumbled behind me for Sloane’s hand. “Is my friend safe here?”

“For now,” he allowed, nodding to Sloane. “Come, mo chuisle , I’m sure you have questions, right?”

“Do you plan to answer them?”

“Talk about answering a question with a question,” Bowie huffed, killing the engine.

“Shut up, body snatcher,” I bit out then returned my attention to Rían. “Let’s go inside.”

Predators felt safest in their dens. I wasn’t sure I qualified as a predator, but I would feel better on home turf. The knife helped too. Bonus point to Rían for not demanding I fork it over to him.

Most of the pack would have smirked, snatched it away to prove they could, or ignored me outright.

For him to allow me to keep it, to give me an opening to use it, felt…respectful somehow.

Always a nice trait in a kidnapper.

As soon as my feet hit concrete, I missed the slight advantage the SUV had given me height-wise.