“It shouldn’t be more than a few days. I doubt the Council will need much time to decide what to do with Bradford Eastwing.” I stepped out of the airport and looked up and down the length of the curb for the car I’d been promised. “They’re running behind schedule, obviously—unless Lucas and the rest of the Elders don’t know how to run a meeting anymore and can’t get a car out to the airport on time.”

“Relax, Dad.” Jace’s chuckle rang in my ear through the cell phone, and I scowled in response. “I’m sure they’re not sending any sort of message by not having a car waiting for you.”

“I didn’t say they were sending a message, thank you. Sometimes I think you’re becoming a little too big for your britches. That was a saying the older people used all the time when I was younger.”

“You’re saying I’m getting full of myself and I need to remember who’s in charge.”

“Something like that.”

A silver SUV pulled up at the curb moments later.

I knew immediately that it was for me, since the driver was twice as big as any of the humans milling around, big enough to draw the attention of a few travelers when he stepped out from behind the wheel.

“Good morning, sir.” He gave me a quick nod as he picked up my suitcase and loaded it into the back of the car. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Traffic’s pretty heavy. You might want to settle in for a while.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” I turned my attention back to Jace. “Text me with any news.”

“Things are quiet here, Dad. I already told you that.”

“Just the same. Let me know.” I hung up before he had the chance to get the last word.

Sometimes I thought he would say just about anything to contradict me.

Besides, doesn’t he know by now how quickly things can go to hell?

Unless he truly believed all was well just because Bradford was about to be introduced to Lady Justice.

I climbed into the back seat, to the right of the driver. “Do you have any idea when the meeting will begin?” I asked him.

He glanced back at me in the mirror. “As soon as the remaining clan members arrive. Sometime this afternoon, I think.”

So soon.

I couldn’t wait to see Bradford get what was coming to him after all he’d done, but I’d hoped for a little more time to prepare myself.

Prepare for what?

I didn’t know for sure.

Some deep, unshakable instinct told me it wouldn’t be as simple as watching his sentencing and going home when it was all over.

Nothing was that easy where Bradford was involved.

Traffic out of O’Hare was a nightmare, just like my driver had promised.

I slipped off my suit jacket and hung it on the back of the seat in front of me, loosened my tie and told myself to relax. I needed to get my head together. At the center of my troubled thoughts was the knowledge that my brother was about to die.

It was one thing to hate him for what he’d done, and I did. I had spent more than half my long, long life hating who he was and what he’d become in the years since I left our clan.

He had hurt so many, killed so many. He’d almost dissolved the tenuous relationship our species had spent decades building with humans.

I hated him for all those things and so much more.

But he was still my brother, our father’s son.

There were times when I would ask myself if I played a part in who he became.

How long had our father compared us and told Bradford he didn’t measure up? He never bothered to mask the contempt he felt for my younger brother. In fact, he’d never missed an opportunity to point out how different we were. How much more trustworthy I was, how much better I was at sports, how fast and agile I was on the hunt and how much better my kills were. And he was right about all those things—Bradford came up short in just about every area. Maybe if our mother had survived his birth, she would’ve given him the love and tenderness he’d never received. And maybe Father wouldn’t have hated him so much.

In my honest moments, like right now in the back seat of that car, I could admit that I used to like it. The attention, the preferential treatment. I deserved it, or so I told myself, because I was going to lead the clan one day. I was special.

So even though I pretended to be modest, as though all the attention embarrassed me, I had thrived on it. It never once occurred to me that I should talk to my brother and tell him he had strengths of his own, that he would be at my right hand when I came into power. I figured he could take care of himself—and all the while, we grew further apart.

How much of what he’d done, was done out of hatred for me?

“What’s the hunting like out here?” I asked for lack of anything else to say. I needed something to take my mind off what I could have done differently.

“Excellent. Maybe not like the glades, and what you’re used to, but the forest is full of game this time of year.”

“Glad to hear it.” I needed the excuse to shift and let out a little pent-up energy, even if I wouldn’t be able to do it until after the Council meeting.

It didn’t sound like I’d have the time before the meeting—the worst thing I could do would be to walk in late.

How would that look?

“I can take your things up to your suite if you want,” he offered when we reached the original headquarters for the entire Midwest branch of the clan.

A stone-and-mortar monstrosity, its spires seemed to reach halfway to the sky.

I craned my neck once I was out of the car, trying to get a glimpse of the tops of the steeples. There was no way, even with the sharp vision that being born a shifter had afforded me.

Humans thought it was a private college, and in a way, it was. The old, rambling building was used to train our soldiers—soldiers being a strong term for the biggest, strongest shifters recruited to provide security and, when needed, protection. We’d used a lot of soldiers during the war. We’d lost a few, too.

The energy surrounding the building was strong. Tense. And I knew why, naturally. Because for the first time in an unthinkable number of years, Everglades weren’t the only shifters inside.

I wondered if the Elders knew what they were doing when they invited members of both clans to attend. The Eastwings had just lost a war and were about to lose their leader. What were the odds that they’d take it well?

Remember who you are.

It didn’t matter how they took it—the Elders had made a contingency plan, I was sure. Any trouble would be handled quickly. I strode into the building through the wooden double doors with my head held high.

Immediately, all eyes fell on me as shifters crossed paths on their way to and from the main chamber opposite the entrance. I walked across the scarred wood floor, nodding to those I recognized. I hadn’t expected to see so many faces, but the fact that so many of them were Everglades bolstered me.

The chamber was just as I remembered it—dimly lit, thick with dust motes that danced in the beams of light streaming down from windows set high up in the stone walls of the building which had served as headquarters for the Midwest shifters for over a century.

Nothing had been updated since day one, except for the addition of central heating and cooling. Even the original light fixtures hung from the ceilings, huge iron chandeliers that could each crush a room full of men to death if they fell. I cast a distrusting eye on them as I entered the room, hoping the bolts attaching them to the ceiling hadn’t rusted.

There were already a few dozen shifters from both clans moving around the long room, jockeying for good seats at the long, narrow table which ran from one end to the other.

Even now it looked as though some of them would have to stand along the walls. It seemed like everyone wanted to see Bradford get what was coming to him.

I was probably the only clansman who had come alone, without an entourage. Some instinct had advised me against bringing Jace or any of the others. I didn’t want to make it look like I was celebrating my victory.

I nodded to Marcus, who had arrived with three of his trusted guards. He approached without offering a hand to shake—no surprise. He didn’t like putting up the pretense that we were friends, and I didn’t care for hypocrisy.

“My sons aren’t with you?” he asked. He looked so much like Tucker and Damien, it was almost unsettling. Right down to the eyes. They were narrow, staring pointedly at me.

I replied with a mild shrug. “Did they tell you they would be?”

“No, but I had assumed.” He frowned. “Now that the war is over, there’s no reason for them not to come home.”

“What makes you think the war is over?” I asked with a smile for the sake of any who would overhear. “Just because the general has been captured doesn’t mean his men won’t want to continue the fight.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I’m not sure one way or the other, but I think it’s safest for us to take our time. We’ll see the way the Eastwings behave when his fate is sealed.” My eyes traveled the room, picking out the clan members I recognized. They were easy to spot. They all looked mad as hell.

He scowled. “Don’t you have enough bodies down there to take care of that? What difference do my sons make?”

“Quite a bit of difference—if you didn’t think they would make a difference, why did you send them?”

“As a show of solidarity, of course.”

“Then keep up that show of solidarity for just a little while longer. They are a great asset right now, and the unified front they help present is key to making sure the rest of the clan knows we’re strong.”

I wanted to ask whether he was sure both his sons intended to come back to him—Damien had already strongly hinted that he would prefer to stick around Miami.

Marcus wouldn’t take the news well. He’d probably assume I had something to do with his son’s decision, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Just another sticky situation I’d be dealing with before long.

He turned away with another scowl, and I decided it was best to let him go. He would never get over the bad blood between us.

“Boy. I see Marcus hasn’t softened toward you over the years.”

The sweet, quiet voice to my right took me by surprise.

I knew it as well as I knew my own, though I hadn’t heard it in a lifetime. I turned and looked down and saw her.

The brilliant red hair and green-flecked golden eyes hadn’t changed.

Neither had the smile that touched the full, red lips. I could hardly believe it was her.

“Veronica.”