“That’s barbaric,” Quinn whined from behind her.

Breslin grunted, but held the knife for her to take between her teeth. “So is bleeding to death.”

Rayven waited until the smooth wood pressed back on the corners of her mouth and the woodsy scent she now associated with Breslin permeated the back of her throat. Instead of gagging her, the aroma eased her nerves, and she inhaled the scent deeper into her lungs.

She shouldn’t need pampering. However, it was obvious that Breslin was treating her with extra care. Without her full complement of shifter abilities, she had no choice but to accept the crutch offered. Crying and whimpering wasn’t on her agenda.

Move on, girl. You have to pick your battles. She clenched the handle harder and closed her eyes with a quick nod. The sooner this was done the better. Nathan was still missing. The Wilsons needed to be found and guarded to safety and— Aww, shit that hurt.

“Breathe slowly. Tight muscles makes the pain bite back harder.” Breslin’s deep, strong voice penetrated the icy-blue haze that threatened to close in and suck her under.

She didn’t miss the irony of hearing comforting words from the man gouging a needle into her skin. How in the world had he stitched his own wounds?

“She doesn’t need you coaching her.”

She tensed at the growl in Quinn’s voice, and a small snarl edged its way between the knife and her teeth. The last thing she needed was more fighting.

“If you don’t control yourself, Quinn,” Breslin replied in a steady tone, “I’ll rip out your throat before I finish suturing her.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, no, choke, at that. At least she mustered the energy to shoot a glare at them both. Or more like wince.

Quinn’s mouth opened for a moment, then snapped shut. She could swear Breslin almost smiled. Hell, no matter how many more stitches there are, I need to be able to speak.

With a grunt, she grabbed the knife from her mouth, gripped it in her fist, and braced her hand on Breslin’s thigh.

The doctoring hurt, but if she could handle this level of pain after two stitches, she knew she could handle the rest. Even without her bear. Breslin had the soothing touch of a mother, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was somehow lending her strength along with the emergency first aid.

He took the knife from her, slid it back into his pocket, and continued.

“What are you doing here, Quinn?” she muttered, mentally counting from the initial puncture of the needle through her skin to the final slight tug. The last time she’d seen him, she’d told him clearly not to show his face around her again. Right after he’d pounced on her as a coyote and then shifted to kiss her, claiming she was his mate.

The fact Quinn Regan had been embarrassed afterward was enough to convince her that his pursuit of her stemmed from only lust, not a mating pull, and fortunately not from a desire to use her. And he’d backed down after she’d refused him in no uncertain terms.

Mating should involve both animals acknowledging the connection, even though others on Gauthier’s teams never took no as an answer, nor cared if their claims were substantiated or not by her beast. Only her hard-won fighting abilities had saved her from becoming the presumed mate to a purebred wolf intent on stepping over her on his way to inheriting the alpha title. She’d often wondered if other children of alphas had the same problem.

“It’s not like last time,” Quinn responded.

Breslin’s thigh tensed beneath her hand. She squeezed, hoping to take his focus off Quinn, but the red glittering in his eyes as they narrowed on Quinn didn’t bode well. “I can handle him myself, Breslin.”

“You were right about us, Rayven,” Quinn continued, somehow missing the rising sense of danger and Breslin’s predatory stillness. “I had things a little mixed up. But I still believe making sure Jacob’s team doesn’t kill you should be my job.”

Warm breath stirred her hair at her temple, and a subvocal purr that had less to do with pleasure and more to do with announcing an impending strike reached her ears. “I’m serious, Breslin,” she said beneath her breath and then, more loudly, “Quinn, shut up.”

She heard him gulp behind her. What naïvety. How could he defend her if he didn’t even realize he was a target? But he meant well. She’d never doubted Quinn’s good heart, only his misguided sense of how to channel his need to protect friends and loved ones.

“Wouldn’t hurt you,” Quinn stammered. “None of us would.”

Breslin glanced pointedly toward the bodies around the clearing.

“I’m not part of them,” Quinn snapped.

She leaned closer to Breslin. “How much longer on the first aid?”

His gaze turned to her, and the vibration of violence dimmed, replaced by waves of blissful numbness. “Three more stiches on the front and five on the back.”

She exhaled, relieved there was an end in sight and more relieved that the deadly kitty calmed as she held his attention. What a pair they made, a notorious killer and a nearly convicted murderer. However, she reminded herself, they weren’t a pair. The blood loss must be making her delusional.

“Over the past several weeks, I’ve been trying to keep Sam off your tail.” Quinn jostled behind her, his restlessness getting the best of him. She cast Breslin a warning look as his eyes narrowed again. Quinn continued. “He’s always one step behind you. It’s like you’re following coordinates he created.”

“Someone did just that.” She closed her eyes. “I’ve wondered how you can get away with being near Jacob’s team. He’s never tolerated anyone but wolf purebreds in his immediate vicinity.”

“Jacob doesn’t give a shit who does the work. He only wanted the credit and didn’t want your father to find out. I figured your missions with the others to find those disappearing kids—”

She jerked away from Quinn and gasped when the suture pulled tight. Sucking back a breath, she dropped her forehead onto Breslin’s chest. Damn it. She thought she’d been careful enough hiding her activities with the others, but it seemed everyone knew. Guess there wasn’t much point in pretending now. “How did you find out?”

Breslin hissed, and before she could stop him, one large palm wrapped around Quinn’s neck. “I told you to keep her still. That means saving secrets that will upset her until later.”

“Got it,” Quinn ground out.

Rayven glanced over her shoulder and exhaled as Breslin released his hold. Quinn quickly closed his eyes, hiding the anger there. He might want to tear Breslin apart, though at least he wasn’t fool enough to think he could actually take on a cougar—especially this one.

“I need his answers.” She opened her fist on Breslin’s thigh and let the warmth of his leg seep into her palm. His glance dodged toward Quinn, but he gave one nod and angled the needle for another pass.

“Release her, Quinn, and tell her what she wants to know.” Breslin gave her a pointed look and moved her hand to his shoulder. “Lean on me.”

With a sigh, she relaxed against him. It was only for a few more minutes; still, she’d take the warmth and comfort. “Quinn, talk.”

“I know you work with others, but I don’t know who they are.” He paused, and she focused again on counting through the suturing. “You are always charging ahead and saving people without much thought for your own safety. You needed backup. I figured getting jobs with Jacob was the closest way for me to find information for you from the inside. When your paths crossed with Sam’s, I finally made the connection that you were looking for the kids—and finding some. I also heard rumors that some of the kids who were returned home to their families escaped across the border. It wasn’t a leap to figure out the rest.”

She sighed as Breslin applied a gauze pad over the work on her chest. Halfway done.

As if he’d read her mind, he cupped the back of her head. “Move closer so I can finish these sutures on your back.”

Turning her head, she rested her cheek on his chest and leaned against him as if he were a huge, hard pillow. Make that a soothing pillow, because the steady whoosh of his heart echoed against her ear and her pain ratcheted down several notches. “Are any of Jacob’s other men involved in the kidnappings?”

“I don’t know. I only ever saw Sam. But there were too many missing for him to have handled all the kidnappings himself.” Quinn was silent for a moment. “I arrived too late on the last one. I saw him take you.”

Anger surged through her at the thought of losing the boy. “Then you saw him recapture Nathan Wilson?”

“I saw them pack the kid into a van.” He shuffled behind her. “Heard him howl too.”

“If you wanted to help me, why didn’t you follow them?” She bit her lip, regretting that she made this Quinn’s fault. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He answered more quietly, “I was instructed by Jacob to follow Sam. And when I caught up to him, I could tell he didn’t plan on letting you survive the trip back to the compound. Nathan didn’t deserve what’s happened, but I had to choose. Right then, I could only help you, so I called Jacob and let him know Sam captured you in secret.”

She burrowed into Breslin’s chest, unable to dispel her frustration and grief.

“Rayven, one kid goes missing and we keep fighting,” Quinn said. “You go missing and nobody is ever safe again.”

“Finally, some sense,” Breslin muttered.

Rayven drew in a slow breath, not pleased with Quinn’s choice, but she couldn’t fault him for keeping her alive. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. It was days before Jacob found you. I can only imagine what you—”

“Not a problem. I’m out.” She definitely didn’t want to talk about Sam’s interrogation practices or the missing days of her life she still couldn’t remember. With any luck, she wouldn’t receive any more injuries—until Breslin handed her over for the tribunal.

“Tear those T-shirts into long strips,” Breslin ordered Quinn before he knotted the final suture and cut the thread with his teeth. For a few moments, she felt cocooned in his hold. An illusion of comfort and safety swirled around her. He moved back to scoop up a handful of the strips Quinn produced.

“You run across any information on someone named Rebel?” she asked as Quinn squatted beside her and braced his palm in the center of her back. Breslin paused with a frown, but grunted and gently lifted the elbow of her injured arm away from her body and gestured for Quinn to hold that as well.

Yep, still hurt. Even that small movement set the tiny nerve endings along her right side screaming.

“I overheard Jacob on the phone with Rebel. Right after he handed you over for the tribunal. He seems to know her well, if you get my drift. It sounded like he wasn’t all that pleased with her either.”

That shocked her out of her haze. “A woman? One of us?”

“Must be. Can’t see Jacob answering to a human,” Quinn responded before a strip of cloth was laid over her skin.

True, though she also couldn’t picture Jacob answering to anyone at all. He wasn’t alpha material in her mind, not possessing either shrewdness or a protective nature. She’d always figured it should take at least one or the other. Rumors were that Breslin’s alpha protected his people, though she had no way to confirm those stories.

Her father had been a full-blown monster. He was devious and conniving, and no one got the better of him. At least until someone managed to kill him. If she progressed logically, then that would be the person after her. Great. “Jacob’s involved in the kidnappings.”

“I have no proof, but he didn’t know I overheard him, and he was very familiar with her.” Quinn shook his head and stalked a few feet away before turning back. “We don’t even have any proof of the abductions. Yes, kids are missing, though by the time I found the locations, the buildings were nothing but char.”

She turned her head, glancing toward Quinn. “I have proof.”

His eyes widened. “That’s why they set you up.”

“No. That’s why they’re trying to kill her,” Breslin said, tucking the last part of the mummy-like wrapping over her wound beneath her arm. Then he whipped off his shirt and slid it over her head, tying the ends around her waist as if the outfit made a fashion statement. “The leader of this effort was probably satisfied with setting you up for the fall for Gauthier’s murder. Until something alerted them to the fact you might go to Deacon with enough proof to bring him into this fight.”

He sank back onto the ground at her feet, his arms crossed over his raised knees. Would Deacon Black really believe her? She searched Breslin’s expression for any hint he was lying. He didn’t hide from her scrutiny and held her gaze. Maybe she didn’t want to find a lie, but in her gut, she believed him. “You make that sound like a given.”

“It is,” Breslin continued, as Quinn scoffed. “We’ve had our own run-in with a group sounding much too similar to the one you’re dealing with. They targeted a few of our own children. The bastards fled back into this territory. But the main thing with Deacon is that children in our clan are sacred and protected, all children—shifters, half-breeds, and humans. Finding and stopping these atrocities is Deacon’s first priority.”

Quinn chose that moment to squat beside them. “Why should we trust you?”

Breslin looked at the ground, and she wished she could read his thoughts. Then he raised his head and stared at her. “I have no interest in your deaths. Or I’d have killed you already.”

A distancing answer and one she didn’t believe. He’d saved her out of duty, because of his oath to his alpha. But something deep inside her forced her to push to find out how far he’d let the leash of his obligation go. “Give me your phone.”

Without hesitation, he slid it from his pocket and handed it to her. She brought up a note app and, after typing in some information, passed it back. “That’s where the evidence I retrieved from one of the labs is. Deacon can have it. But I need to leave and find the Wilsons.”

“No.” The gleam in Breslin’s eyes as he cut from Quinn back toward her exceeded any fire she’d ever encountered in a shifter, and she held her breath.

“I have to warn them that Jacob’s team is already after them.”

His mouth opened into a snarl. “Do you even know where they’re headed?

“Yes. I sent them to a—”

“Rayven, don’t tell him,” Quinn snapped.

“Actually close to here,” she pressed on, watching the specks in his gunmetal eyes change with tints of blue, green, and sunrise. “My guess is that’s the reason Sam and his team were holding me here until Jacob was done locating them. But they won’t be safe now where I sent them.”

Breslin closed his eyes, then rose and stalked to the edge of the clearing without turning around. “Quinn will find them. You’re coming with me.”

Quinn rose as well, moving between her and Breslin. “No. She’s not.”

She kicked at Quinn’s ankle. When he didn’t move, she struggled to stand and groaned as her skin pulled painfully beneath the bandage. Both men turned back, and Breslin reached her first with a hand out. She snarled at both of them and glared at Breslin. “Look. I promise I’ll go with you to the tribunal without coercion, but I need to make sure the Wilsons escape. They won’t believe Quinn if I’m not there to vouch for him.”

Breslin withdrew his hand as she stood and crossed his arms over his chest. Heaven help her, but he was menacing. Then why did she feel so…safe? “You believe he’s trustworthy.”

“Yes.” She hugged her bad arm with her good hand and nodded, ignoring Quinn’s muttering behind her. “I do. I can read people. That much of me functions just fine. But the people I work with don’t know each other. With this one meeting, I can bring my team together, and they can continue to work without me.”

Breslin looked between the two of them and, after a long moment that felt like forever, he nodded. “Four hours.”

Then he turned away and walked to one of the unconscious human snipers, crouching beside him and patting his pockets. She followed him. He dug out a set of keys and stood, seemingly surprised she was there.

“Where will you be?” she asked. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Instead, his gaze ran over her face. She could only imagine what she looked like. Presentation was never her strong suit, but blood and bruises certainly didn’t cinch the look of sexy outdoor girl.

He licked his thumb and frowned as he reached for her cheek and gently rubbed away…blood. Just his simple touch sent a strange quiver of something suspiciously like longing through her all the way to her toes.

“Once you get to the Wilsons, then what?” he countered as he tilted his head.

“I’ll send Quinn with them to Calgary. I have another contact there who will hide them.”

“How will you get back here?”

“Another of my associates is waiting with the Wilsons and can bring me back.” As his brows drew together, she rushed on. “Aubrey won’t let anything happen to me.”

“She a half-breed?”

“I don’t see what difference that makes,” she answered, becoming a little tired of having to be accountable for all her decisions.

“Half-breeds and mixed breeds in your clan are outsiders. Evidently, making them”—he glanced toward Quinn—“fiercely loyal. They’re fighters. If you’re leaving here without me, I need you to have a fighter at your back.”

Surprised Breslin had made that leap despite his obvious animosity toward Quinn, she relaxed. She couldn’t fault his keen ability to decipher her situation either. She’d picked her people for the reasons he’d mentioned—loyalty, integrity, honor. The same reason that, under different circumstances, she would have picked him.

“There’s a bridge about fifty miles southeast of here. Meet me there,” he said, his mouth turning up in what resembled a smile. “Or I’ll come looking for you.”

Just like that, he’d reduced himself to a jerk. Yet, she considered the layout of the parks near the border, puzzled by where he intended to begin the next leg of their journey.

He grasped her good wrist and leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, “Waterton. I’ll meet you at the lake’s edge. I know a faster way to cross the mountains.”

“The caves?” she whispered as she jerked back. But he was the one who looked surprised. Did he think she didn’t know about the passage beneath the mountains? Or had he expected her to cower in fear?

Quinn moved behind her. “You can’t possibly mean to go through the challenge site!”

Breslin’s frown deepened, though he stared at her and not Quinn as if displeased.

“It probably is the best option,” she muttered and then nodded to Breslin. “No one would ever expect us to go there.”

“No one survives those caves,” Quinn snapped out before his expression shut down and he shrugged. “I mean—”

“You know I have more than once. Now please give me a few moments. I’ll meet you at the car.”

Quinn folded his arms. “I’m not leaving you with him.”

“You don’t get to make decisions for me.” She dragged in a deep breath. Really? Heaven save her from overprotective males. “Besides, he’s not going to rip out all the beautiful stitches he put in.”

For a long moment, she wondered if Quinn would actually refuse. Then he jerked a nod. “Five minutes.”

With an eye roll, she turned back to Breslin, her muscles tightening at the sudden stillness that had come over him. “What will you do until we rendezvous?”

The tight line of his mouth twitched, not with humor this time. Definitely anger, though she couldn’t tell if her discussion of the caves had incited him or if it was Quinn’s responses. “I’ll be laying false trails to cover your tracks. We can’t have them following us this time.”

Right, strategizing was a good idea. One she’d have come up with if every muscle in her body wasn’t throbbing with pain—and odd anticipation.

Before she could react, he moved closer, grasped her jaw with unexpected gentleness, and closed his lips over hers. Soft and yet dominating, his tongue slid over her lips until she opened for him. Some part of his beast claimed control as he delved with a kiss that consumed and burned for more. She swayed into him, her pain suddenly almost unnoticeable. She bit back a whimper as he lifted his head. His breath heated her lips, and from the hot gleam in his eyes, she wondered if he’d kiss her again.

“He was right about not leaving you alone with me.” He moved away and picked up two of the still unconscious and bound men, hauling each one over a shoulder. With a quick backward glance, he looked at her lips as if he might kiss her again. She’d let him. “Four hours.”

Then he disappeared into the woods.

* * *

Jacob entered the bar and scoured the dimly lit interior until he caught sight of Rebel sitting in a back corner booth. Dread worked into a fierce knot, bunching the muscles between his shoulder blades, but he kept his expression blank and stalked past tables filled with the after-work crowd.

Rebel didn’t look at him but finished whatever call she was making on her phone. Then she placed it before her on the table, her palms down and her face averted.

He sank onto the bench across from her and raised a finger to the bartender across the room. “Sam has Rayven, and we should have the Wilsons within the hour,” he offered, not quite able to pin down what was sending his wolf into a tailspin.

One thing he knew, he hated being beneath her thumb and reporting in like a juvenile.

She turned her gaze to him with an icy glare that froze him in his seat. It was all he could do not to squirm even as his anger boiled. He resented how easily she made him feel both incompetent and emasculated.

“It would seem you’re wrong on both counts. Black’s enforcer freed Rayven from Sam and his men. And I suspect she is headed, as we speak, to hide the Wilsons—again.”

Jacob swallowed hard and tried to figure out what he had missed in the last several minutes. “That’s not possible.”

Rebel slid her finger across her phone and turned it for him to see. He wasn’t familiar with the software program, but the rows of green dots interspersed with an occasional red seemed self-explanatory. With one pearlized fingernail, she tapped a red dot. “That used to be one of the men assigned to assist Sam.”

Shit. She had them all chipped with tracking devices? Had she managed to get one under his skin? The odds were low since he hadn’t slept with her in months. But still.

Sliding the phone away from him and tucking it in a pocket of her formfitting vest, she sank against the backboard of the booth and stroked a hand over the talisman strung from a silver chain around her neck. Ugly thing. He glanced quickly away as he caught her eyes narrowing on him.

He ran several scenarios through his head with the new information. The conclusions left a bitter taste in his mouth. “What do you want done about Rayven?”

“She’s still expendable.”

Expendable to Rebel, perhaps, but he had every intention of finding the alpha’s daughter and making her his. The only reason he’d bothered to deal with this bitch was to rid them all of Gauthier. Frankly, he’d expected Rebel to fail and take the fall.

Even as he considered his reasoning, a chilling wave of power washed over him, sinking down into his pores and rooting him to his seat. He balked and tried to move. It was as if a thousand tiny barbs pinned him in place. With extreme effort, he might be able to lunge, though better to keep what strength he had a secret since Rebel’s smirk claimed she took credit for his discomfort.

She leaned forward, her black eyes glistening. “She’s worthless to me. As you can tell, the alpha’s mantle is almost mine. All I need are a few more youngsters to complete the studies, and my backers will be satisfied. Money and power will be mine. Then I can publicly claim the alpha position.”

Alpha power? Rebel’s little sideshow was impressive. Still, if she thought she was anywhere near her father’s former strength, she was delusional. He growled the first thing that came to his mind. “Who are you working with to create this magic, shifters or humans?”

His throat constricted until only a wheezing breath escaped his lips and his lungs fought for air.

She leaned across the table and tapped a nail to his cheek, digging in with the sharp tip. “I won’t tolerate insubordination, Jacob. Who I choose to associate with is no concern of yours. The only thing you need concentrate on is the capability of increasing our numbers with my new soldiers and protecting our borders. Your role is to lead my troops, not make decisions.”

He gritted his teeth and forced the words. “If others find out, the alphas will retaliate.”

A wide smile broke across her face, pulling tight across her cheeks in a way that displayed sharp teeth at their most feral. Her long black hair pulled into a harsh bun added to the severity of her expression.

How had he ever thought her attractive? Like a shot, he realized how much she’d changed from even a few weeks ago. Until recently, she’d kept her glossy hair shoulder length—like Rayven. Her cheeks and lips no longer bore the dusting of color that mimicked Rayven’s natural hue and hinted at her heart-shaped beauty either. He flashed back in dismay, realizing Rebel had adopted the same hand gestures and body movements, trying too hard for things that came naturally for Rayven, natural for offspring born to an alpha by his mate. All affectations Rebel had now dropped.

She’d lured him in and snagged him. Fury built inside him.

Just as well she’d shed the façade. No matter how hard Rebel tried, she couldn’t erase the fact that she was born a half-breed to an unmated mother with none of the privileges and status, she craved. A child Gauthier had sentenced to death as an infant with her survival credited to a lack of follow-through on the alpha’s part. That fatal piece of information was the key to his downfall.

Jacob didn’t regret Karndottir’s death, but given the new monster seated before him, he regretted that Rayven remained unaware of her half sister’s existence. And of the hatred brewing inside her.

Too late he realized how dangerous that was, to himself, and to Rayven. And to anyone who stood in Rebel’s path. Because while she paled in comparison to her half sister, Rebel would control immense power once she solidified her final hold on the alpha mantle. Potentially rivaling or exceeding Daddy Dearest as the most vile and ruthless.

However, one key thing held true. Jacob was a survivor, more so than Rebel or Rayven. The alpha tribunal could fall off the face of the planet for all he cared.

Showing his shock at the reach of Rebel’s plans was stupid. But he’d recover his standing with her if he hadn’t already damaged his chances. “How do you want me to proceed?”

She watched him as if reading his mind. “I want you to contact Deacon Black’s assistant and request tribunal attendance for yourself and two guards to represent our clan.”

“You can’t be afraid they’ll find her innocent.” He winced as his lungs compressed.

Her features drew together in an ugly frown. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

Unable to respond, he dipped his head and choked out, “Poor choice of words.”

“Yes. However, if that slim chance comes to pass, then you will immediately find a way to kill my sister. Or I will kill you.”