I’d tricked Jorge into smuggling me over to see Rafe under the guise of needing medical assistance for digestive distress. So it was probably only fitting that by the time I’d left Rafe’s office, I was shitting my proverbial pants over the disturbing information I’d gleaned from the wacky doctor.

Before I’d left, I had pressed Rafe about the strange “mind block shit” comment he’d made to Raul during our meeting with him the day prior. Rafe explained that most humans couldn’t survive the initial shift into a werewolf without magical assistance from a werelock. To do so, the attending werelock needed to be able to control bodily functions and processes related to the initial shift by redirecting commands through the brain and central nervous system.

Which meant they needed access to the shifting human’s mind.

And according to Rafe, my mind had been blocked at some point by an “enemy” werelock.

The notion that an unidentified “enemy” supernatural creeper had been inside my head before to set up some sort of deflector shield around my brain was disturbing enough. When Rafe reconfirmed his prognosis that, unless said shield was lifted, I was definitely going to die an excruciatingly painful blow-apart-from-the-inside death during my initial werewolf transformation, it was just the sort of over-the-top kind of terrifying news that made a person recently subjected to too much gilding and candelabras crack and start to fall apart.

My brain was set somewhere between autopilot and comatose as the werewolf guard Rafe had secured for me led me back over to the main mansion.

If what Rafe had said was true, that meant Raul had lied to me on the plane when he’d said he hadn’t accessed my mind out of respect for my privacy.

I was feeling more insecure than ever about where I stood with my supposed “true mate.” Raul had become increasingly withdrawn from me in the day and a half that I’d been at the Bariloche estate.

I didn’t know what was real or what to believe anymore. I just knew I needed to escape this Liberace house of horrors and get back to my life in San Francisco.

And that was why, when I was dropped off with Wyatt yet again, I found myself pickpocketing his phone and then stealing away to a hallway bathroom in the mansion.

Locking the door to the gaudy golden bathroom I’d found myself in, I wasted no time in dialing one of the few numbers I still knew by heart: Milena’s.

I lowered the volume on the receiver and cupped it tightly against my ear. I held my breath as it began to ring. Once. Twice.

By the third ring my heart sank as it occurred to me there was no way Milena would pick up. Even if I was lucky enough to catch her when she was available and with her phone in hand, she wouldn’t recognize Wyatt’s number and would let the call go to voicemail. What should I say in a message? Did I dare leave one?

Then a miracle happened: The ringing stopped and the line picked up.

“Who the fuck is this?” Alex’s stern voice demanded.

I nearly cried tears of relief as I whispered back, “Alex, it’s me, Bethy.”

My voice cracked slightly on the last two syllables. I knew Alex heard it, because his whole demeanor shifted to high-alert, protective big-brother mode, and God, did I appreciate him for that quality in this moment.

“Bethany? What’s wrong? Where are you? Whose phone is this?”

“I didn’t want to call and upset Milena in her current condition, but things have gotten—”

“Where are you, Bethy? I need a location.”

“Um … South America. In Arg”—an involuntary sniffle-shudder escaped me—“Argentina.”

The line went quiet. “Who are you with?”

I hesitated for a moment before answering, knowing that I was about to ignite the mother of all sibling rows. “Um … I’m with Raul.”

The line went quiet a second time. When he spoke again, Alex’s voice was strangely calm and devoid of emotion, his words delivered slowly and carefully as he asked, “Has he hurt you?”

Four simple words. But such a loaded question.

“N-no. I mean … not … really … on purpose,” I faltered. I’d been about to say, “not physically,” but then I realized that would’ve been a lie. He’d bitten me multiple times. He’d marked me and infected me with werewolf venom. And he had drugged me in order to kidnap me. “I mean … not out of … malicious intent …” I winced as I realized how bad that sounded.

“He kidnapped me, Alex,” I finally blurted. There was no sugarcoating it. “He almost killed Gregg. When I flipped out over it, he drugged me. And he kidnapped me.”

“He’s a dead man.”

“No. No, I don’t want that. It’s not like that, Alex. He didn’t mean to hurt me; things just … got out of hand.” Christ, I sounded like a traumatized battered woman undergoing the intake process at a shelter. “Never mind that last part. I just need to get back to San Francisco. I can’t miss any more hospital shifts. I need you to call the American embassy in South America for me, okay? I mean—Argentina.” I shook my head at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot. “The American embassy in Argentin—”

“Bethy, I know you’re scared. The situation with Raul must be bad or you wouldn’t have called Milena. But I need you to trust me and put Raul on the phone so I can speak with him.”

“No, no, can’t do that. That’s not a good idea.”

“It is, Bethany. Please trust me. I give you my word it’ll be okay.”

“You don’t understand, Alex. Raul’s not exactly … himself anymore.” Oh, crap, here goes. “So … I’m guessing there’s a small chance that you and Milena might possibly know this already about him and that’s why she’s been estranged from him for the past decade … but Raul’s a … a werewolf.”

I waited for a reaction. “Are you there? I’m not crazy, Alex. I know what I’m saying sounds crazy—”

“Bethany …” He sighed. “I know. I know Raul’s a werewolf. It’s okay.”

It’s okay?

What the hell did that mean?

“Um … it’s not that okay,” I refuted, my hysteria skyrocketing. “Because he’s more than just a regular werewolf, Alex. He’s a werelock. Which means he has super-cool powers and can poof places. And not only that, he’s the head of a big pack of werewolves and werelocks. It’s like some kind of supernatural shapeshifting crime syndicate.”

I was babbling. Unraveling. Did Alex not believe me? Why would he say that he knew Raul was a werewolf like it was no big deal?

“And Raul’s also a manny for this prodigy werelock girl with purple eyes. And she tried to set me on fire yesterday, Alex. I mean literally on fire. She didn’t even need a match, either, because she’s like that little girl from Firestarter and can do it with her thoughts. Raul keeps telling me she’s harmless, but I actually think she’s plotting to kill me. I can’t explain it … it’s just this look she gives me and this feeling I get when—”

“Bethany, listen to me. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. But the American embassy can’t help you with this. I need you to put Raul on the phone. Now. Please.”

“No!” I whisper-shouted before checking my volume. “Didn’t you hear anything I just said? This is not a joke. Everyone here turns into a giant monster wolf, Alex. I snatched a phone and I’m hiding in a bathroom. Raul doesn’t know I’m making this call, and I don’t think he’ll be happy with me if—”

“Bethy, open the door.” Raul’s voice made me jump.

Shit! I froze in place as he jiggled the knob. My heart galloped.

“Baby, it’s okay. Please don’t be scared. Just open the door. We need to talk.”

“In a minute,” I called back. I raced to the toilet and flushed it, before whispering into the phone, “I gotta go.”

“Bethany, do not hang up. He can still hear me,” Alex insisted, raising his volume to compete with the rushing water. “Even through the door. Through the phone line. And with the toilet flushing,” he stressed. “He has supernatural canine senses, honey.”

Oh, God. I immediately felt sick. Alex knew way too much and was way too calm about all this werewolf business.

“He’s telling the truth,” Raul confirmed from the other side of the door. “Please let me in. I want to talk to Alex, too.”

I was suddenly dizzy—so lightheaded I feared I’d actually faint—as I stood frozen in place in the Versace bathroom, holding Wyatt’s phone to my ear and staring numbly at the closed door, wondering how long Raul would give me to open it before he simply poofed through.

Breathe, Bethany. Just breathe.

“Bethy?” Raul rapped lightly on the door with his knuckle. “You okay?”

“Bethany?” Alex’s voice was familiar and reassuring in my ear, but there was a tone of resignation to it that raised the fine hairs on the back of my neck. “I have a confession.” I closed my eyes. My free hand reached out blindly, my palm flattening against the marble countertop to steady myself as Alex spoke the words I’d known in my gut he was about to say. “I’m a werelock too.”

I nodded in reply—as if Alex could see me.

I reminded myself that I was a doctor. I’d never fainted before. I wouldn’t start now.

I’d held it together so well up to this point, despite everything that’d happened.

In the moment, I couldn’t process why Alex’s revelation was the one to push me past my breaking point at last.

“And Raul’s not going to harm another hair on your head,” Alex told me through the phone with certainty. “Because he knows that I will kill him. Painfully.”

Bile rose up in my throat.

They were all killers. Killer werelocks.

So where did that leave Milena?

Where did it leave me?

“I’m not a fainter,” I heard myself say thinly in reply as everything began to spin inside my head. “I’ve never fainted before … not even in medical school …”

I heard Alex’s voice through the phone calling out for Raul—which struck me as odd—right before my equilibrium tilted and the phone slipped from my fingers. It connected with the stone floor with a hard clatter. Absently, I wondered if I’d broken it.

I swayed on my feet, the fingers of my other hand losing their grip on the countertop. Fleetingly, I wondered if I’d break too as I felt myself going down.

“Easy, baby.” Raul’s voice floated above my head as he caught my dead weight in his arms and hefted me off my feet. “I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.”