Alison had never been to Pierce Point, even though it was only two hours from Shifter Falls. She’d never been anywhere outside of the Falls, in fact. So the trip to Pierce Point, as insignificant as the town was, was a novelty for her.

It wasn’t just that Pierce Point was bigger than the Falls—though in the scheme of things, Pierce Point was a small place. It was that Pierce Point was human. Everyone here was human—the people on the streets, the shopkeepers, the people in restaurants, the staff of the small motel she was staying at. Humans and shifters didn’t look different to the untrained eye, but Alison could always tell: shifters were bigger than human men, more powerful, and they moved with quiet animal grace. Even aging shifters, like her own father, gave off a heightened vitality that middle-aged humans didn’t have. So when Alison walked the streets, and went to her first press conference, she found herself staring discreetly around her, looking at all of the humans in her midst.

It was exciting, that first day. They’re all like me, she thought with wonder. No one gave her a second glance, though she felt like she could be wearing a sign: My daddy is a werewolf, and so is my mate. But no one in Pierce Point had a shifter’s sense of smell, and none of them could smell the alpha of the Donovan pack on her.

She put on a carefully chosen outfit for her first press conference: a dark gray pencil skirt and a cream-colored blouse, topped with a black cardigan for the cool weather. She added a small silver heart on a chain around her neck, and silver hoop earrings lent to her by Tessa. She topped the outfit with her fake credentials—Alison Masterson, journalist for Women’s Week Denver—on a lanyard around her neck, black flats, and her usual light mascara and lip gloss. She kept her hair down. When she looked in the mirror before walking out the door, she saw a professional woman, pretty perhaps, but serious and a little plain. She wondered what Brody would think, but she pushed the thought away. He’d liked her in a waitress uniform, after all. And he’d liked her in nothing. Which she thought now was her favorite outfit for him, too.

She missed him, even though it had only been one night. She’d slept alone last night in a strange hotel bed in a strange city, far from Brody and everything she knew, and in the darkness of the wee hours the adventure hadn’t seemed quite so fun. But now it was daylight, and she was about to go do some work that could seriously benefit the pack, and she pulled out her phone and texted him. How are you?

Worried, he wrote back. Are you okay?

She smiled to herself. It was okay to text him, she knew, because for some reason he could read texts all right. Fine, she wrote back. Off to collect intel. Report back later. You will be proud of me, I promise.

There was a long pause. The dots on her phone weren’t even moving. The silence stretched longer and longer, and she wondered if she’d said something to offend him. Then again, Brody didn’t seem easy to offend.

I will fix everything, he finally wrote, by the time you come back.

That was strange. Shifters usually just said what they meant instead of being vague. But Brody, she knew, was complicated. He kept so much to himself that the usual shifter honesty was buried deep. If she had been anyone else, the message wouldn’t seem strange.

But she was his mate. Mates were two halves of a whole. They didn’t play games with each other or make each other guess, any more than you would make your own arm guess what you wanted it to do. Brody’s text—I will fix everything by the time you get back—was both something and nothing at the same time. Which meant he had something on his mind that he wasn’t telling her.

Her gut did a quick flip of unease. It’s too soon, she thought. They’d only just paired up, after years of loneliness for both of them. Alison had given up her virginity; Brody had let her in. Or at least, he’d started to. Despite how excited part of her was, another part thought it was too soon for them to be apart. They needed time together, to get used to how things were now, to trust each other and read each other.

But these were not normal times. The pack needed information. So Brody would have to wait. A few days wouldn’t kill them. I’ll call you when I’m back, she said, and left the room.

The press conference was being held at City Hall, a squat, square building that looked more like a warehouse than a government building. Carrying a purse and a notebook, Alison ascended the steps with a small handful of other people, trying to look casual. She was sweating beneath her cardigan when she showed her credentials, but the bored-looking deputy just waved her through. And that was that: Alison Masterson, Shifter Falls waitress, had just become an accredited journalist.

In a small room labeled PRESS ROOM, a dozen people had gathered. At the front of the room was a dais. Alison sat in one of the folding chairs and waited until a handsome, distinguished-looking gray-haired man approached the dais, putting his hands on it and clearing his throat. The room was so small that there was no need for a microphone. The man, Alison knew, was Michael Archer, the mayor of Pierce Point.

“Thanks for coming,” he said to the room. He had a politician’s voice, calm and melodious. His gaze scanned the reporters in front of him, then fell on her. “You,” he said. “I’ve never seen you before. Do I know you?”

Way to be inconspicuous, Alison. It hadn’t crossed her mind that the mayor would know every face by memory. She half-rose, trying to keep her calm, like this happened every day. “I’m from Women’s Week Denver,” she said.

Mayor Archer’s eyebrows rose, then he seemed to shrug to himself. “Covering a few quick things today,” he said, carrying on to Alison’s relief. “I have a busy schedule today, so I’ll move quickly.” He began talking about something to do with smoking bylaws and a protest by one of the local business improvement associations. Alison sat with her notebook poised on her lap, hoping she looked like she understood.

Someone next to her nudged her arm. “Interesting, huh?” he whispered.

Surprised, she glanced over. The man next to her was about thirty, with dark blond hair. He was wearing jeans and a navy blue button-down shirt, and he was smiling at her with unmistakable interest.

The mayor was still talking, so Alison turned back to the front.

“I bet I know why you’re here,” the man said in a whisper, and then he raised his hand and stood up. “Mayor,” he said in his full voice, “is there an update on Shifter Falls?”

“Sit down, Ethan,” the mayor said, his voice just a little tired, as if this happened every time.

“It’s just that the people of Pierce Point are waiting for news,” the man—Ethan—persisted. He seemed rather pushy, considering he was talking to the mayor. “Last night, Sandy Kennedy’s beloved cat went missing, and there are traces of blood on the fence at the back of her yard. Her neighbors say they heard strange noises last night. Can you say, Mayor, with perfect confidence, that the people of Pierce Point are safe?”

Mayor Archer gave him a stern look, and suddenly Alison saw it: this was a show. A display, with both men playing their pre-decided roles. The mayor was trying to look put-upon, but in fact he wanted to answer that question. “Fine. If you insist.” He looked around at the faces in front of him again. “The fact is, our law enforcement team has discovered evidence that we are, in fact, in grave danger from the population of Shifter Falls. That in fact they do pose a threat to our safety.”

There was a surprised murmur.

“So we are taking action,” the mayor continued. “We are prepared to call in state and federal authorities if we have to. With the effort we’ve made, I believe we can safely say that we can put down this threat before it becomes a danger to our citizens. That although the shifters have bad intentions toward us, we simply will not let those bad intentions become reality. We will defend our town, defend our citizens, and defend our laws from the half-human creatures we’ve put up with for too long.”

Alison sat rooted to her chair, as if made of ice. Her notebook was forgotten in her lap. What did that mean? Evidence? Defending the town? State and federal authorities?

More questions were tossed at the mayor from other reporters, but with his well-rehearsed speech over with, he declined them and left. The reporters milled around, talking quietly as they filed out to pursue their stories.

“Well?” The blond man approached Alison as she rose from her seat, wondering what the hell to do next. “I think that was a pretty good show, don’t you? My name’s Ethan, by the way. As I’m sure you heard. I’m the senior news reporter for the Pierce Point Daily.”

He held out a hand and Alison shook it, the reflex automatic. “I’m Alison. What was that?” she asked him. “That… show? What’s going on?”

He looked impressed. “You caught that, did you? I didn’t think that Women’s Week Denver would send their top reporter.”

Alison felt herself flush. He didn’t doubt her, she realized—he was just putting down her pretended publication. “We want to run a story about what’s happening with the shifters here,” she said. “Things have been peaceful for so long, and now it seems they’re not.”

“Well, that’s their fault, not ours,” Ethan said. “I can fill you in on anything you need. Let’s go for a cup of coffee.”

She hesitated. It sounded an awful lot like he was asking her out, but she couldn’t quite be sure. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he said with a smile that probably charmed a lot of women. “It’s just coffee, Alison. That’s all. I like having coffee with pretty women.”

She blushed harder. This was awkward. “I have a… boyfriend,” she said. Completely inadequate, but there it was. In the shifter world, she and Brody were married, but in the human world they weren’t, since they hadn’t stood in a church and said words in front of a stranger. Boyfriend would have to do.

Ethan looked around. “I don’t see him here,” he said lightly. “I think you can get coffee without him, right? Especially if it helps you with your story. Let’s go.”

He turned and she followed him reluctantly. She had spent a lot of time with alpha wolves in her life—pretty much the bossiest men on the planet. And yet never once had an alpha wolf annoyed her the way this man just had. There was a difference, she realized, between being an alpha and simply telling a woman what to do because you couldn’t be bothered to listen to her. But she was here for a reason, and he was right—it was just coffee. The sooner she got her questions answered, the sooner she could go home.

* * *

He led her to a shop around the corner from City Hall, where people sat with laptops and sipped their lattes while some kind of jazz fusion music played. If you wanted coffee in the Falls, you either went to the Four Spot—Patty’s coffee was as powerful as jet fuel—or you stopped at Nick’s, which was a corner variety store. Inside the store, Nick always had a pot of coffee brewing and a few fresh-baked goods. He made both for himself to enjoy as he sat behind the counter, but for a dollar he’d give you some of his supply.

Ethan ordered coffees for both of them, without asking what she wanted, and sat them down at a small table for two. “Okay,” he said. “What do you want to know for your nice little magazine?”

Alison bristled in defense of her nonexistent employer. “I told you, we want to write a story about this. If there’s going to be trouble with the shifter population, it’s important.”

“Here’s the deal,” Ethan said. “We had a killer werewolf a few months ago. Ripped a guy’s throat right out.”

“I heard about that,” Alison said, thinking of Devon Donovan. She pretended to look at her notes. “The dead man’s name was Christopher Wagner, also known as the Silverman. But my sources tell me he was a murderer who had just killed a cop.”

“Which means he should have been arrested and put through due process,” Ethan said, stirring sugar into his coffee, “not ripped to pieces by some animal. The same animal that probably killed two humans before that.”

“That wasn’t him,” Alison said. When Ethan gave her a look, she backtracked. “My, um, sources say that the two previous murders could be traced to the Silverman as well. He made them look like werewolf kills.”

“The evidence is inconclusive,” Ethan said, “and considering the lead on that case was Sheriff Walker, who then left town to go live with her werewolf boyfriend, it’s considered suspect. Her motives were definitely compromised.”

Despite herself, Alison was shocked. No, she wanted to shout. Nadine would never compromise an investigation like that. But she wasn’t supposed to know Nadine, so she said, “I hear that Sheriff Walker had a pretty good reputation before she left.”

“You hear a lot for someone who just came from Denver,” Ethan said. Alison gave him a vague shrug, and he nodded. “You’ve been doing your research, I see. It sounds like you don’t need me at all.”

“I need you to tell me what the mayor meant when he said he had new evidence.”

“Ah, that.” He gave her his charming grin again. She wondered if he had any idea she was immune to it, or if he cared. He wasn’t bad-looking, maybe, but she’d take Brody’s dark, serious looks over his any day. “Well, I’ve already written and filed my story with the mayor’s okay, so I can tell you. You’ll be reading about it by morning anyway. There’s no way you can scoop me.”

Alison felt her spine prickle with unease. “I’ll be reading about what?”

“There’s a doctor from the Falls,” Ethan said. “His name is Carson Dunne. Got arrested for dealing drugs to his patients—caught red-handed, in fact. Not good for him at all. But it turns out he used to be a doctor in the Falls. He was close to the old alpha. And he offered a deal.”

“A deal?” Alison breathed.

“He has inside information. Something about how the shifters plan to take over Pierce Point,” Ethan said. “All of Grant County, in fact. The new sheriff is my cousin-in-law, and I’ve known him for ten years. He says this doctor is willing to spill every secret he ever learned about those filthy animals in return for his freedom. So the sheriff’s office is more than happy to make a deal. They’re working out the details with his lawyers, and then he’ll give a full deposition. Hey, you look pale. Are you okay?”

“A full deposition?” Alison said, the words sticking in her throat. It felt like the world was swirling around her. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Alison, that the doctor is going to sing,” Ethan said, laughing. “He’s going to sing until he can’t sing anymore. And with the evidence he gives, the Feds and the state can put an end to the shifters forever. I hear through the grapevine that the plan is to round them up and put them in a detainment camp until they can find somewhere for them to go. A reservation, maybe, or out of the country completely—who cares? Not a damn soul, as long as they’re gone for good. Then the mayor wins his election, everyone is safe, and we all live happily ever after.” He grinned again. “Unless you’re a shifter, of course.”

Carson Dunne. The doctor who had done the postmortem on Charlie Donovan. Carson Dunne knows, Brody had said. He’d left town, but he obviously hadn’t gone far enough.

Carson Dunne knew about Charlie’s plans, his many years of unpunished crimes, everything. He knew that Brody had murdered his father.

What if Brody learned about the deal? Learned what was on the horizon?

No. No.

“I have to go,” she said, pushing back her chair and rising on shaking legs.

“Hey,” Ethan said. “We didn’t finish. I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to go out later.”

“I have to go,” she said again, picking up her purse, her useless notebook. Seriously, this guy could not take a hint. Shifters never pushed themselves on women who weren’t interested. “I told you, I have a boyfriend.” Who might commit murder if he hears about this. If I don’t stop him.

“Give me your number,” Ethan said.

But Alison was already running out of the coffee shop, pulling her phone from her purse.

Brody didn’t pick up. She called again, then again. She left a message—“Call me”—and texted him. Call me.

Sitting in her car in the City Hall parking lot, she tried to think. He wasn’t calling her back, which was bad. She didn’t have any of the other brothers’ contacts on her phone, because they all hated their phones and barely used them. She didn’t have their mates’ numbers either, and there was no such thing as a phone directory in Shifter Falls.

“Damn,” she muttered aloud to herself. She should be there. She should be there, instead of two hours away. Then she remembered she had the number of the Shifter Falls police department, programmed into her phone because of those late nights working at the Four Spot.

It was Nadine who answered. “Shifter Falls police, Nadine here.”

“Nadine, it’s Alison.”

“Oh, hey.” Alison could picture Nadine at the shoddy desk in the tiny old police station, her uniform on, her dark brown hair tied back in its usual braid. “What’s up? How’s Pierce Point?”

“I need Brody,” Alison said. “He isn’t answering his phone.”

There was a second of silence.

“Nadine?” Alison said. “Do you know where he is?”

“No,” Nadine said. “But I’m going to find him. Right fucking now.”

“That’s weird, right?” Alison almost felt relieved. “That he isn’t picking up? I’m not overreacting?”

“He’s your mate,” Nadine said. “Mates always pick up the phone.”

“Something’s wrong,” Alison said.

Nadine didn’t question that. She had a mate, too. “I’ll call you back.”

“Get Devon and the others,” Alison said, starting the car. “I’m coming back.”