Hope knew the second she rolled through the door that her plan had worked.

I am the greatest sister in the world, she thought smugly, and waited for Ivy and Hugh to tell her their good news.

To her surprise, however, the happy announcement didn’t come. For some reason, Hugh and her sister seemed hell-bent on pretending that they weren’t now mated.

They still maintained a constant, careful distance, sidling round each other as though terrified they might spontaneously combust if they so much as bumped shoulders. They exchanged only the minimum of words, their voices polite and strained like two strangers stuck in an elevator together.

But though they were still determinedly keeping their hands to themselves, their eyes were all over each other. Hope could have toasted marshmallows in their heated gazes. They were basically walking heart emojis.

Hope guessed that Ivy’s pride was holding her back from admitting what had clearly happened. After all, Ivy owed all of her newfound happiness to Hope’s awesome matchmaking skills. Now she’d have to finally accept that her little sister was actually smarter than her when it came to some things.

Hope would, she’d already decided, not make a big thing of it. She would accept Ivy’s grudging apology gracefully, like the mature adult she was. She wouldn’t rub her sister’s nose in it.

Well, not much.

For now, though, Hope played along. She obediently lay back on the couch and held still under Hugh’s tingly-tickly healing hands, and secretly laughed her head off over the way that Ivy was clearly checking out his butt whenever he bent over.

Not that Hope could blame Ivy for that, she had to admit. Hugh was easy on the eyes, if you were into the whole angst-and-muscles thing. And dudes, of course. Ivy could have done a whole lot worse, when it came to a mate.

He’d be good for Ivy, Hope decided. Whatever his inner animal might be, he was clearly no pushover. He could handle her sister. And maybe, in his magic hands, Ivy would finally chill out a little. Let Hope live her own life at last.

So Hope held her tongue, even though it just about killed her to pretend that she hadn’t noticed the way they were drooling all over each other. She knew her sister well enough to know that it was better to let Ivy come clean in her own time, when she was ready.

After all, she’d have to admit the truth soon. It wasn’t like any shifter could actually keep their hands off their fated mate for long. It was kind of hilariously tragic, watching the pair of them try.

At least, it was funny at first.

As the morning wore on and they still didn’t admit their secret, it started to get old.

By the afternoon, it was downright irritating.

When Hugh went off after lunch to take a nap—apparently healing wore him out, although Hope herself felt as refreshed as if she’d been floating in a hot tub all morning—she couldn’t hold her silence any longer.

“Well?” she demanded of her sister, once they were finally alone.

Ivy didn’t look round from washing up her tin plate and cutlery from lunch. “Well what?”

“Are you going to tell me about Hugh or not?”

Ivy’s fork and knife clattered against each other as she twitched. “I don’t know his animal. And don’t you dare bug him about it, either. It’s rude to pry.”

The tense line of Ivy’s back, the too-quick answer to a question Hope hadn’t actually asked…Hope knew when her sister was lying.

But why? she wondered. If Hugh had shown Ivy his shift form last night—and Hope would now have bet her busted wheelchair on that—what reason could she possibly have for lying about it? Especially to her own sister?

She set the mystery aside for later consideration. “That wasn’t what I meant. Come on, Ivy. Tell me what’s up with you and Hugh. You know you have to eventually.”

Ivy’s shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. She seemed focused on her task, dumping each cleaned item back into the Box o’ Death, as they called the red-banded plastic container where Ivy stored everything she’d handled with bare hands.

“Ivy. Ivyyy.” When her sister still didn’t respond, Hope scaled her voice up to her most annoying whine. “Ivyyyyyy. You know I can keep this up all day. Ivyyyyyyyyyyy.”

Steel clanged on steel as Ivy threw a fork into the Box o’ Death with a rather excessive amount of force. “I am so not discussing my private life with you.”

“I knew it!” Hope cackled with delight. “You totally did it! You banged Hugh and now you’re mated!”

Ivy wheeled on her, face red with embarrassment. “Will you shut up? He’s only upstairs, he'll hear you! And no, we did not and we are not and this is none of your business anyway!”

Hope lifted her eyebrows at her sister. “Excuse me, but it definitely is my business. Or are you going to tell me that we’re still going to be moving out of Brighton once this is all over?”

Ivy’s eyes slid away. She fiddled with the cuff of her glove.

“Well…no,” she admitted. “I mean, we haven’t worked out all the details yet-“

“Because you were too busy banging,” Hope interjected smugly.

Ivy shot her a death glare. “Because it’s complicated. It’s…really complicated.”

Something about the way Ivy’s voice fell on the last few words made Hope pause. She looked at her sister. Really looked at her.

Ivy had been lit up like a neon sign when Hugh had been around, but now that secret glow had guttered out. There were dark smudged circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept at all. Hope had assumed that Ivy had been up all night…but for reasons that should have left her satisfied and smug, not pale and drawn.

“Ivy,” she said in concern, rolling a little closer. “What’s wrong?”

Her sister turned away, bracing her hands on the edge of the sink as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. She stared out the window, but Hope was pretty sure she wasn’t seeing anything but visions of a certain hot paramedic.

“It’s really complicated,” she said again, quietly. “I can’t say much more than that, Hope. I promised Hugh I wouldn’t tell his secrets to anyone. Not even you.”

“But you are mated, right?”

Ivy let out a long sigh. “We’re mates. But we’re not mated. That’s all I can—what’s she doing here?”

“What?” Hope craned her neck, but her wheelchair was too low down for her to be able to see anything out the window other than sky. “Who?”

“It’s one of Gaze’s thugs.” Ivy had ducked out of sight herself, as if taking cover from a sniper. “She’s across the street, staring at the house.”

“How do you know she’s one of Gaze’s people?”

“I recognize her from the party, and she was at the cafe with him yesterday, too. Actually, she asked after you. Tall black girl, cornrows, wears motorbike leathers?”

Hope’s heart skipped a beat. “Betty?”

Ivy raised an eyebrow at her. “You know her?”

“Betty? Oh w-well, kind of, I guess,” Hope stammered. “I mean, yeah, I know her a bit. She goes to my school. We’re in some of the same classes. She’s my partner. In biology. At school, I mean.”

Both of Ivy’s eyebrows had now risen. “You’re lab partners with a juvenile delinquent?”

“Betty’s not a delinquent,” Hope said defensively. “She’s smart. Really, really smart. And funny and brave and loyal and—” She noticed that Ivy’s eyes had narrowed suspiciously, and hastily changed tack. “Um, and just a really good partner. Biology partner. At school. Like I said. Yep.”

Was she babbling? Oh God, she was babbling.

“We’re more casual acquaintances, really,” she finished lamely. She tried to stop there, but couldn’t help herself. “Uh, so, you said she asked about me?”

“Yeah.” Ivy had gone back to peering suspiciously out the window.

Hope waited, but Ivy didn’t say anything further. “Well?” she prompted. “What did she ask? How did she look? Did she seem angry, or worried, or, or—look, just tell me exactly what she said and how she said it, okay?“

“If Hugh hadn’t vouched for your innocence, I would definitely be worrying about now,” Ivy muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ivy let out a long-suffering sigh. “Hope, about this crush—“

“I don’t have a crush on Betty!” Hope yelped. “Who said anything about crushes? I just like her for her brain. Because she’s so smart. Did I mention she was smart?”

“Yeah, you did. Several times.” Ivy rubbed the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache. “Hope, don’t you get it? She works for Gaze. No doubt he ordered her to cozy up to you in order to get to me. She was using you.”

Hope flinched from the stark statement. It was exactly the fear that had been gnawing at her ever since the disastrous party. The worry that had kept her from responding to any of Betty’s increasingly frequent messages.

“Betty wouldn’t do that,” she said, trying to convince herself. “I’m sure she’s not part of anything bad. She’s only knows Gaze because his charity runs her shifter orphanage.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “So she’s one of his little street minions. Wonderful. And now he has her spying on us.”

Hope caught her breath as the truth dawned on her, chasing away her deepening clouds of misery. “No she isn’t! She can’t be working for Gaze!”

“She is right there, Hope. I can see her.”

“Exactly! If she was really spying on us, you wouldn’t! She’s a hellhound, she can do their invisibility thing. If she’s letting us see her, it’s because she wants us to know that she’s there.”

Ivy stared at her, clearly having only heard one word of this explanation. “Your so-called lab partner is a what?”

“Hellhounds aren’t all bad, you know,” Hope said defensively.

“The clue is in the name! There’s a reason they aren’t called heavenhounds!”

“Oh, like you can talk, wyvern? At least Betty doesn’t literally spit acid!”

“What’s going on?” Hugh had appeared in the kitchen doorway. He rubbed his eyes, his hair sleep-tousled. “What’s all the yelling about?”

“We’re being watched,” Ivy reported tersely.

The bleariness vanished instantly from Hugh’s face, his muscular shoulders tensing. “Gaze?” he asked, striding to join Ivy at the window.

Ivy moved over to give him room, though her right hand twitched as though she’d nearly reached out to touch him. “One of his minions.”

“She’s not—“ Hope started, but neither of them was listening to her anymore. They both stared out the window with inhuman, predatory focus.

“Shifters,” Hope said under her breath, like a swearword. She waved her hands futilely, trying to attract their attention. “Come on, guys. Snap out of it. I’m not going to let you eat Betty.”

“I know that girl.” Hugh’s ice-blue eyes didn’t warm at all. “She’s the one who called the fire department the other night. She told us that Hope was trapped in the elevator.”

“There, see?” Hope said triumphantly. She started to swivel her wheelchair round. “I told you Betty was good. I’m sure she’s just here to check that I’m okay. Let me go out and talk to her.”

Ivy grabbed onto her handlebars, hauling her back. “You aren’t going anywhere. I’ll handle this.”

Hugh’s hand shot out, gripping Ivy’s shoulder before she had taken more than a step. To Hope’s infinite satisfaction, he held her in place.

“I’m not letting you risk yourself,” he said. “It could be a trap to lure you out.”

“It could be a trap to lure you out,” Ivy countered, glaring at her mate with the protective possessiveness that Hope knew so well. “You’re not going out there alone either.”

“Oh, good.” Hope folded her arms in exasperation. “So I guess we’re all just going to sit here until we run out of food and are reduced to eating cat kibble.”

“No.” Hugh’s jaw tightened. He looked like a soldier steeling himself for a deadly battle. “It’s time to call in reinforcements.”