The wires shot us into the night sky and pulled us into the belly of the waiting helicopter. The open hatch clamped shut after us, and Navan and I found ourselves standing within a small chamber lined with metal panels and long benches against the walls. Two lycans waited, in addition to the four who had escorted us up, and they grabbed us roughly by the wrists, fastening cold metal handcuffs around them. I wasn’t sure if Navan would be able to break out of them, but it was a moot point—we’d have to cooperate if we wanted a chance of meeting with the chief.

I shot a worried glance at Navan, who was standing a few feet away from me, and although I could sense nervousness behind his eyes, he was keeping his calm. He gave me a firm, reassuring look, and I tried to latch onto it, instill some of his calm into my racing heart.

One of the lycans led me to a bench and sat me down, and the others did the same with Navan, seating him next to me. A second later, black fabric was pulled over my head and I couldn’t see a thing.

“Is this necessary?” I asked nervously, but the lycans ignored me. It sounded like they were walking out, but I managed to make out one of them saying, “Sergis and Masta said they’ll deal with the cleanup job.”

I felt Navan’s warm hand touch my knee, as if to reassure me. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “They just don’t want us to see how to get to their headquarters.”

I swallowed as the sounds of the lycans’ voices faded behind the closed door. “What do they mean by ‘cleanup job’?”

“I imagine they have their own memory-wiping formula,” he replied. “I doubt they’ll bother with the people at the concert, given that I never revealed myself fully—you’ll probably see the story on the cover of tomorrow’s National Enquirer. But that scene in the alleyway was too graphic. They’ll have to go after the humans who’d gathered at the end of the street.”

The hairs on my arms stood on end as the chopper propelled forward to God knew where. I felt terribly vulnerable. We had no idea what these lycans were going to do with us, or if they would even arrange the meeting we needed. They could be on their way to a remote location where they could execute us. If anything was keeping us alive, it had to be what I’d said regarding blood being on its way to Vysanthe. We had to hope that would last.

I slid closer to Navan on the bench, craving his warmth. It was chilly at this altitude, and although I knew Navan’s heat would fade soon, he still held some warmth from the mild city night. He must’ve sensed my insecurity, as his hand touched my knee again, squeezing. “You’re doing great,” he said. “I mean that. You really are brave.”

If those words had meant something to me before, they meant a whole lot more now. “Thank you,” I whispered, squeezing him back.

It was hard to say how long the journey lasted—maybe a few hours, though with the black hood over my head, it felt like eternity.

We knew we were nearing our destination when the cockpit door opened, and footsteps spilled into the room. They stopped a few feet in front of us, where they remained, until the aircraft slowed, and then descended at a rapid speed, making my stomach flip.

When we shuddered to a stop, the footsteps moved forward and a viselike grip hauled me up. I was lofted over somebody’s shoulder in a fireman’s lift, and I spluttered, winded from the unexpected movement. I had no choice but to get used to the position as the lycan carrying me descended a set of stairs, and then stepped onto what sounded like rocky terrain, judging by the crunch beneath his boots. I heard more footsteps climbing down the stairs— Navan and the others following us—and my lycan continued to move forward, in what quickly became a very bumpy ride.

The air felt distinctly different from New York. It was also chilly, with a sharp wind that carried the scent of saltwater. We were by the ocean, but which ocean? Were we even still in the United States?

Finally, the lycan put me down. We walked forward, and after a few feet, the gravel turned into a sharp ridge that I would’ve tripped on had it not been for the strong man gripping my arm and pulling me over it. We then stepped onto a flat surface, perhaps polished stone or marble. I heard the sound of doors sliding apart in front of us, and then closing once we were through. We had stepped into some kind of hall, perhaps a lobby or a reception area, judging by the soft echoing of voices.

We stopped in front of something hard and wooden that felt like a desk, and my escort spoke up. “Is Interrogation Room 3 available?” he asked gruffly.

“It is. You can go through,” a higher-pitched voice replied, which I suspected belonged to a female lycan.

We started walking again, the lycan guiding me across the room, and I heard another door slide open in front of us. He yanked me through and then after another minute of walking, we came to a stop. There was a beep, the swish of another door opening, and then I could sense a blinding white light. The fabric over my head was tightly woven, but this light was so bright, some still managed to get through.

I was lowered into a seat, and I heard Navan settling next to me. Then the bags were pulled off our heads, forcing us to face the full brunt of the fluorescent lighting. I had to cover my eyes with my hands, the light stinging my pupils, and was only able to look around after a minute, by which time our escorts had left the room—except for one. I glanced at Navan, who seemed to have adjusted to the light faster than me, his eyes fixed on the remaining lycan.

His mask was still on, his vibrant coral eyes glaring through. But as he lowered himself into a seat opposite us, he removed the mask, revealing a face that was… quite extraordinary. Its bone structure was narrow and angular, with eyes set deep beneath an overhanging forehead. He had ashy brown hair that was more like a mane about his face, with the longest sideburns I’d ever seen on a man, and fine brown hairs covered every inch of his face and neck. His thin lips parted, revealing two sets of jagged teeth, and as he clasped his hands together in front of him, I realized just how inhuman they were—gnarly and elongated with unretractable claws.

He looked between Navan and me, raising a thick eyebrow. “So,” he said, his voice gravelly, “who would like to start?”

I looked uncertainly at Navan, but he was staring straight ahead, a cool expression on his face. “Before we begin, surely you don’t mind telling us what your rank is?” he said. “I carry sensitive information that needs to be relayed directly to your chief, or whoever makes the decisions around here.”

“Well, I am not the chief,” he replied tersely. “I’m the head of interrogation—it is my job to decide what matters are worthy of the chief’s attention. Did you honestly think he meets with just anyone we pull off the street? I suggest you start talking, coldblood, or the guards will go with their first instinct to execute you, and wipe the memory of the human girl and pack her back to her city.”

A muscle in Navan’s jaw twitched, but he kept his composure. I knew the potential consequences of Navan’s betrayal, if any of his people back home found out that he had given information about Vysanthe’s activities to the Fed.

Navan cleared his throat. “I take your point. I will explain everything, but, as I’m sure you can understand, I won’t reveal my identity until I have a guarantee that you will keep what I say in complete confidence. You need to understand that I’m putting our lives in danger by coming to you and spilling secrets. My homeland would kill me for it.”

The head interrogator had a good poker face, but not so good that he could pretend his interest wasn’t piqued at the mention of “secrets.” Navan looked at one corner of the ceiling, where a camera was positioned. “I will also ask you to switch off that camera, and obliterate the footage of us stepping in here,” he said.

The lycan’s eyes widened at the request, as though he couldn’t quite believe that Navan had dared to ask it. He opened his mouth and I was sure that he was going to refuse, but then he seemed to have second thoughts, and instead detached a device from his belt, and issued the order, “Rus, switch off the camera in IR 3—and wipe all footage from the last five minutes.”

“Are you sure about that, sir?” a gruff voice spoke back through the loudspeaker.

“Just do it.”

“Camera’s off, sir, and working on the footage deletion.”

The lycan shut off the device.

I understood that the camera was there for safety reasons, and was a little confused as to why the lycan had bent on this request. His curiosity must be overshadowing his caution.

He looked back at Navan and nodded. “Proceed.”

Navan shifted in his chair, positioning himself in a more upright posture, before launching into his explanation. From the fact that Vysanthe had become obsessed with seeking an elixir for immortality, to Navan discovering Earth, to his desire to keep it safe from his compatriots, to how he came across me, and everything that had happened since we left Texas. The main thing Navan omitted was the fact that he had killed the lycan agent who discovered his bunker—and fortunately, this lycan didn’t seem to know about an agent going missing up north… which might confirm Navan’s earlier suspicion that the Fed agent who came after him had been working alone.

By the time Navan was finished, the lycan was frowning, his expression unnervingly difficult to interpret. The look he was giving Navan could be either disbelief or deep thought.

“That shapeshifter who took Navan’s friend hostage in order to follow us,” I ventured, wanting to break the quiet that had descended, “was he an ally of the Fed? Was he working for you?”

The lycan’s eyes switched to me, and he barked out a dry laugh. “Absolutely not. We would no sooner work with shapeshifters than we would with coldbloods. Dishonest, conniving creatures.”

I felt some of the blood leave my face as I glanced over at Navan. “Then who was he?” Why had he been waiting in Navan’s bunker, and why was he following us? Had it been the shifters who somehow discovered Navan’s lair, and stolen all his equipment?

Navan looked confused and disturbed by my question, but he pushed it aside, as we came to the crux of the matter. “So will you help me fix my ship or not?” he asked. The Fed might not have his tools after all, but Navan had seemed sure that they’d at least have their own advanced tech that could help.

The lycan looked away and stood up, before prowling up and down the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “The problem is,” he began, and my stomach instantly dropped at his cold tone. “I have no idea if anything you have told me can be trusted. It all sounds very urgent and life threatening, but I’ve never come across a coldblood in my life who wasn’t a scheming bastard.” He paused and looked at Navan. “That’s the downside of belonging to a race as sadistic and depraved as yours, you see. Everyone always expects an ulterior motive.”

“Please,” I urged. “You’re wrong—he isn’t like the others, I promise. Why would I be helping him if he wasn’t acting for the benefit of my kind?”

“He could be blackmailing you, and you could be an exceptional actress.” He rolled his eyes. “You could even be a shapeshifter, for all I know, who decided to ally with a coldblood.”

I exhaled in frustration. “So, what? You’re going to dismiss everything we’ve told you? Aren’t the risks far greater if you don’t help us?”

The lycan returned to his seat, and gave the two of us a considering look. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t help you—that decision isn’t even up to me. But given that we have limited resources, which are stretched to the max at this current time, my job is to gauge the truth of information that is presented to me, before relaying it to my superiors for consideration.

“While our usual response to a coldblood would be to shoot him through the head, I admit that what you’ve told me is concerning, if true. It could also be designed to lead us up the garden path—perhaps even put some of our agents into danger. So, before I even consider relaying your information to our chief, I need to be damned sure of your intentions. As a bloodsucker, you’d better expect to jump through some hoops.”

“We’re telling the truth,” Navan said. “So we’ll do what you ask.”

The lycan breathed in, leaning back thoughtfully in his chair, and then stood up again. “Wait here.”

With that, he moved to the door and left the room.

“I can’t believe this,” I said, unable to keep the frustration from my voice. I was painfully aware of the seconds ticking by, that little pod containing my blood drifting ever closer to Vysanthe. We didn’t have time to be doubted!

Navan, while clearly annoyed, didn’t seem all that surprised by the lycan’s response. “Like he said, it’s what I get for being a coldblood,” he replied. “He’s right not to trust my word. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t trust me either.”

I flinched at his self-deprecation, knowing that it couldn’t be easy to be judged like that—to be discriminated against purely on the basis of his physical appearance—in spite of how much he was risking for Earth’s benefit. It made me want to reach out and touch his shoulder, reassure him that I knew he was a good man, but I refrained, since if there was one thing I had detected about Navan in the brief time I’d known him, it was that he didn’t seek sympathy.

The lycan reentered the room carrying a black folder filled with documents, which he dropped on the floor in front of Navan.

“I’m going to give you an opportunity to prove your intentions with action,” the lycan announced. “A little task that will help me buy into your motivation. Now… on the subject of shapeshifters, it’s coincidental that you happened to run into one. We have reason to believe that there has been a recent infestation of them here on Earth, in spite of Earth being forbidden territory to them—the Fed made that clear decades ago.

“This folder contains evidence suggesting that the shapeshifters have established—or are in the process of establishing—an organized base here. Their motives are yet unknown. What I’m asking you to do, with the help of these files, is two things: one, uncover the coordinates of their base, and two, gauge an approximation of the base’s size. We want an estimation of how many shapeshifters we’re up against. Then, you will report these two pieces of intel back to me. Fairly straightforward.”

Navan paled. “That is no small task, lycan. It’s going to take time to uncover their base, given their camouflage abilities, and that’s the one thing we don’t have—time. Not to mention there’s no guarantee I’ll return alive. Until a few hours ago, we were being hunted by one with a clear intent to murder.”

“It won’t necessarily take a lot of time—it depends on how smart you are,” the lycan replied, “but I’m not saying it will be easy. We will equip you with weapons and equipment, however, which will lessen the risk, as well as provide guidance in the form of these files. Either way, if you want to gain our trust, these are our terms. If you succeed, I assure you that our chief will be much more likely to take a chance on you, and trust what you have to say.”

Navan glanced down at the folder for a moment, then exhaled, his breath uneven. “Okay. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you to listen. But in addition to providing me with equipment, you also need to return my bag to me.”

“That is not a problem,” the lycan replied, and I realized only now that Navan didn’t have his bag with him. It must have been confiscated when we were in the helicopter.

Navan nodded curtly, though the concern in his eyes remained, setting my nerves on edge.

The lycan gave him a brief, wolfish smile, then rubbed his hands together. “Then let’s get moving.”