Breslin walked quietly in Quinn’s footsteps, unnerved by the eerie silence around them. Not a single sound from insects, snakes, or even mice. Frankly, he expected to hear mice rustling about, given the field. It was as if someone had stripped the surrounding land of wildlife.

Never a good sign. But at least nothing had blown up during their trek from the vehicle to the trailer targeted on the satellite maps. They’d also confirmed the trailers were empty.

After a sniff, Elijah leaned in and effortlessly ripped off the trailer door. With a brief nod, he pivoted and strode away toward his designated position at the edge of the minefield. Breslin watched him achieve his guard point and turned back in time to find that Quinn had already entered the trailer and uncovered the access panel in the floor to the belowground lab. The man was a veritable ferret.

Without the luxury of time to analyze potential risks, they descended the iron-rung ladder until they hit solid ground. Thirty feet down based on Breslin’s best estimate. They pushed on through a single-man-wide tunnel lighted by bare lightbulbs strung every fifty feet. The claustrophobic space suddenly opened into a large cavern, and they both came to a halt.

Breslin eyed the hydraulic pillars bolstering a grid of I beams that supported the carved roof. Roughly twenty feet high, the pillars appeared to span at intervals as far as he could see. But only steps away, a fifteen-foot-high wall blocked his view of the entire cavern. A security door sat dead center with a guard chained and shackled in front of a computer console beside the door. He remained hunched with his back to them, as if unaware of their approach.

Quinn scuffed his boot. and the guard looked up before darting his hand toward a keyboard in front of him. Not fast enough to avoid the blade Breslin threw. The tip pierced the man’s hand and pinned it to the tabletop.

With a grunt, he moved his hand free.

“Ah. Ah. Don’t even think about it.” Quinn grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall before he could retaliate. The chains strained, but the desk didn’t budge from its position, and the guard remained out of reach of the computer.

The man bucked in Quinn’s hold, his face twisted into a sour expression, dank locks of his hair hanging in his eyes. “No matter what you do, this place will rain down on your heads. It’s not like I’m your only problem.”

Quinn gave him a little shake. “Now that’s just plain unfriendly. What the hell are you talking about anyway?”

“Maybe Jacob has other partners in his little operation,” Breslin offered.

“I don’t take orders from him.” The man wrestled and managed to hawk spittle at Quinn’s shirt. “Jacob’s a monster just like you and that she-bitch.”

Breslin noted the red tinge to the man’s eyes and the tremor in the hands clenching Quinn’s around his neck. Tremors no doubt coming from something more than fear. “This queen bitch tested some of her juice on you, didn’t she?”

The man hissed. “I refuse to become one of you fucks.”

No wonder he was ready to die. Breslin had already seen the result of humans injected with the chemical cocktail to turn them into shifters. Zombies would look prettier than that result. Not to mention that if it had worked, whoever funded this effort wouldn’t be focusing on shifter children instead.

“Where’s the key for the door?” Quinn growled, squeezing his hand tighter around the guard’s neck.

“There’s no key,” wheezed the guard with almost maniacal glee.

“Electronic access, then, since I don’t see a reader or a keypad.” Breslin sank into the empty computer chair, sliding the guard a glance as Quinn edged toward a small window in the door. “If Jacob knew about your misplaced loyalties, it’s no wonder you were left to die.”

“I wasn’t left. I volunteered to take out those little freaks and save my people from genetic rejects like you two.”

His people. Breslin detected a rather thick New York accent in those words. Evidently, not a native.

“Shit, Breslin,” Quinn murmured. “There’s cages with kids in there.”

Pretty much what Breslin expected. He tapped his earpiece and slid a thumb drive from his pocket into a free USB port on the computer. “Brindy, I’ve got a locked door between me and some kids. I also need data retrieval.”

“My device connected?”

He noted a tiny light on the drive flicker from red to blue. “Yep, active now. Don’t have more than a—”

A detonation sounded on the far side of the wall, and dirt sprayed down from the ceiling.

“Very few minutes.”

“Got it. Here’s the decryption screen for the locked door—you need to press the enter key when it’s done.”

The small line of progress inched across the monitor with the speed of a slug. Breslin bit back his frustration.

As if she could hear his annoyance, Brindy chimed in. “Sorry, I can only automate so much on the fly, and I can’t control remote processor speed. But I’m copying the computer’s drives and communication history as we speak. Don’t worry about retrieving the thumb drive I gave you. I’m uploading the data.”

“Thanks.” He glanced over his shoulder. “How many kids?”

Quinn leaned to the side again, squinting through the window. “Four. No. Six.” He growled. “Maybe more.”

The guard kicked in Quinn’s hold, though the coyote shifter dangled him in the air without any sign of effort. “Those files are worthless. They’re encrypted.”

Breslin snickered. There wasn’t an encrypted file Brindy couldn’t hack. Not to mention she found the challenge fun. He doubted the people behind this twisted experiment could match her. The drive continued to flicker, and a final confirmation window popped up for the door. He pounded the enter key. At the click behind him, he swiveled around on the chair and grasped the opening door before it had a chance to shut.

Quinn waited, the guard still dangling. “What you want done with him?”

“If he wants to live, uncuff him and—”

The guard tried to spit again. “No fuc—”

Quinn slammed his fist into the guard’s head and then dropped him into an unconscious heap. “Right, then. You stay.”

What Breslin saw after they stepped inside turned his stomach. Cages no more than three feet tall lined the walls. Thankfully, many were empty. But the few children here sat inside, huddled at the far corners of their cages, grasping the bars as if that gave them security.

A loud hiss erupted from Breslin as he tried unsuccessfully to control his beast. Who could do this to children? Pale, with eyes as wide as saucers and bones showing beneath their scant clothes, the children huddled, their terror permeating air.

One of the kids whimpered, but several directed half-hearted snarls toward them. He motioned to Quinn. “Start at the back. Get them out fast.”

With a quick glance around, he crushed the lock on the closest cage in his fist and ripped the door open. What might have been a six-year-old scrambled free as Breslin searched for a teenager Nathan’s age. He found a slender young man with one eye swollen shut and bruises covering his face and arms slouched beside a smaller cage, eyeing them warily. His wrists were chained to a bolt in the rock wall.

“Nathan?”

The boy didn’t answer but angled his body, shielding the cage. That was all the confirmation Breslin needed. The personality profile of the young man fit Rayven’s description of brave, stubborn, and protective of others.

“We’re here to get you out.” Breslin crouched beside him and reached for the chain. The teenager shook his head and kicked back at him as a tiny cry erupted from the cage. Breslin leaned to the side and reached for the cage door instead.

“Don’t,” the boy snarled, his voice raspy. “Hazel will start to shift.”

“I’ll free you first, and we can work on her.”

The tiny girl inside, perhaps three at the most, screamed and curled into a ball as Breslin pulled several times on the bolt holding Nathan. Another explosion shook the large space, plumes of dust spewing their way from another tunnel at the far end of the cavern. He leaned over Nathan and the cage as a new shower of rocks pelted them.

Fury drove his cat as he growled. This was not how they would all end. Wrapping the chains around his hands, Breslin tugged until his muscles burned. A fierce, unexpected wave of power pulsed through him, overcoming the resistance, and the chains tore free of the bolt.

He thrust the chain at the teenager and gestured with his head toward the open door. “A man named Elijah will be at the top and help you get out.” With a certainty, he knew nothing would have kept the big bear at his post if he felt the quakes and saw injured children fleeing the trailer. “He’s big but harmless.”

“Come on, kids. Time to get out of here,” Quinn yelled to the other children and wrenched open Hazel’s door, prepared to duck inside.

She shrieked at an eardrum-bursting pitch.

“I’ll get her,” Breslin yelled. He added to Nathan. “I don’t have time for a debate. Go with him now.”

“Really, she can’t help it.” Nathan stood rigid in front of the cage, bits of chain still hanging from his shackles. “They’d drag her from the cage and trigger her shifts. The pain is bad enough she’d shift back and forth out of control. They thought it was funny to hit her and keep it going until she passed out.”

He spat the last words.

Closing his eyes for a second, Breslin prayed for calm. Not something he did often or—ever. But already half-shifted, Hazel lay in a tight fetal position, hiccupping through sobs. The form of her upper bruise-mottled torso resembled a normal three-year-old. Her lower extremities sported furry pale khaki-colored rabbit hind legs. Every time she tried to move, she gasped.

“Shit.” Quinn stepped back, “What the heck are we supposed to do? They riveted the cage to the wall. Not that I could drag it up the ladder.”

“Her parents,” Breslin demanded of Nathan.

“Doctors said her dad was human, a soldier who was killed in the war. But her mom—” Nathan looked away and said softly. “She died a few days ago from the tests.”

Breslin didn’t know where to channel his rage. It certainly wasn’t in this cold hole in the ground or in front of these children.

“Go,” he said again. “Clear the area.”

“No,” Nathan said.

“That wasn’t a request,” he snarled, his cougar grabbing hold. “Rayven needs you to testify for her.” That was not how he wanted to broach this conversation. Right then, another explosion hit and the cave rocked.

“Go. I’ll bring the girl.” He turned back to the small girl. “We’ll be fine. Right, Hazel?”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Quinn muttered, and grasped Nathan by the arm and almost dragged the boy out of the cave. He shouted over his shoulder, “We’ll be at the top. Waiting for you!”

“Don’t. Get clear of the trailer.” Breslin settled on the floor outside the open cage as they disappeared from view and looked at the child while he sought his beast. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn his cougar flashed in and out. The child had stopped crying when he spoke to her, so he tried again. “You and I are leaving here together, Hazel. I’d like it to be on your terms, but we’ve only got two seconds.”

Eyes wide, she just stared at him with her big blue eyes unblinking and her chin quivering. What he saw was patches of cornsilk-colored hair lying matted and dirty in a mostly mud-colored mess against her scalp. The rest of her looked frail, her skin translucent as if she hadn’t had a good meal or peaceful night’s sleep in days—weeks maybe.

A charge exploded too close to them in the tunnel. The walls shook again. More rubble landed around them. Hazel looked up and then back at him, but didn’t move.

He suspected she was waiting for him to pounce. Even so, she glanced between his face and the phone swinging on the chain around his neck.

“I’m waiting right here, and I promise not to hurt you.” He raised his hands to the chain, noting her fixated gaze. He lifted it over his head and held it out to her. “You can even wear my phone. See, it has—” What was the name of that thing Trevor played? He slid through the apps he’d never bothered with and held out the screen filled with neon-bright treasure chest. “A game.”

She bit her lip but took the phone in a fierce grip and let him slide the chain over her neck. He waved a finger between the two of them. “We need to have some rules. I trust you’ll decide we can leave soon, and I promise not to leave without you. We need to get outside. You know—fresh air, sunshine, macaroni and cheese.”

She blinked.

“That work for you?”

Another charge blew cages at the far edge of the tunnel into the air, close enough that the ground surged beneath them, and he and Hazel landed inches from where they were seconds ago. Shit. Did they even have twenty seconds? No. He was grabbing her and risking the fallout, literally. The pain he caused her by grabbing and moving her would surely be better than death. How he’d get her up the stairwell with her flashing in and out of shifting was another issue.

But as the next pressure wave hit his eardrums, signaling a detonation, Hazel held her arms up to him. He grabbed her against his chest and spun toward freedom.

No cougar could ever beat his time over the distance down the tunnel to the ladder.

With her arms in a stranglehold around his neck, Hazel held to him as he vaulted one-handed up the rungs. Bits of concrete and steel shavings gouged the backs of his legs as another part of the the cave exploded behind them. “Cut it a little close there, but good girl. You’re going to be a fierce rabbit when you grow up.”

Energy shoved him toward the opening. Claws sprang from his fingertips digging into the ladder. What the hell? Did I just partial shift again?

Escape and get the girl to safety. That was all that mattered, along with keeping her in his arms. She had no ability to clutch him with her rabbit feet, and her hands might be gripping him with everything she had, but she wouldn’t be able to hold tight enough to withstand the next detonation as it took out the tunnel.

Skeptically eyeing the remaining ten feet but emboldened by his extra energy, he punched his boots against the rung and stretched toward the opening in the floor of the trailer. His claws rasped over metal and then dirt as he grazed the floor and lost his grip. As he started to backslide, hands latched on to his wrist and jerked him out of the hole.

Breslin landed on his side with Hazel tucked against him. Quinn and Elijah stood feet from the opening. He cringed as a loud whoosh of energy rippled along his skin, dazing him and knocking the others to the ground. Quinn shot to his feet first, and with Elijah’s help, hauled Breslin out of the trailer and several yards away a moment before a bright flash of light shot from the hole and the trailer exploded.

Seconds separated that and their mad dash toward the field. Huge divots in the grasses reflected where the charges below had exploded. Still wary of landmines, he followed Quinn’s lead. Whoever had planted the charges didn’t just want the lab concealed, they’d intended the trailers to go up in flames and fall into a crater in nothing more than cinders, with the ruins of the lab, indistinguishable from the dirt.

They paused for breath a quarter of a mile from the trailer, where Nathan and the other children waited.

But what froze Breslin in his tracks wasn’t the huddled group of wide-eyed children, drooping from exhaustion and hunger.

He turned to the east and inhaled. Smoke and ash rode the breeze. The wildfire previously heading south when they’d arrived had now altered course, flanking them and blocking several of their exits.

“Get the children and Nathan to the pickup point.”

Despite his order, Quinn fell in beside him. Breslin motioned back toward the teenager, who also looked ready to disobey him. “Both of you get to the vehicle and signal Brindy.”

“You think we can’t smell the stink of enforcers coming?” Quinn moved in front of him, eye to eye. Only Hazel’s soft whine affected the coyote shifter enough that he shrugged off his combativeness and stepped back, his hands up. “It won’t take much to destroy them if all of us help.”

At least three enforcers if the scent of wolf, bear, and wolverine Breslin detected was all of them. He pointed toward the direction Aubrey waited with the vehicle, adding more command to his voice.

“I’ll take care of them. You and Elijah stay focused on the mission and get the kids to cover. They’ve had one bad experience. Don’t make them survive another.” He turned on Nathan. “Rayven needs you at her tribunal. If anything stops you, she’ll pay. Go. I’ll take care of the enforcers.”

As he adjusted his hold on Hazel to hand her over to Nathan, the child screamed. That alone he could have handled. Her life was worth him recovering from hearing loss. But fur sprouted over her arms. She clutched at his shirt with one hand and hit him in the chest with his phone with her other.

“She can’t take that.” Nathan lunged forward, pushing her back into Breslin’s arms. He spoke more softly. “That Rebel woman joked that if she changed again, she’d never come back.”

Well, hell. Taking on three enforcers in a wildfire wasn’t a cakewalk, even with his abilities. He lifted the child to face level. “Hazel. I can’t do my job and hold on to you.”

Lips pursed in a mutinous expression, she waved his phone like it was some sort of explanation. Which he supposed to her it was. He’d promised not to leave her. What was it with little kids and the inability to see shades of gray in a promise? He was tempted to fling her toward Elijah and make a run for the fight. Yet she trembled with fear in his hands and her pain buffeted against him in erratic spikes, and he didn’t dare press her. He’d been in her place once with no one to trust. He couldn’t do that to her. It might be a bumpy ride, but he wasn’t about to let her spiral now. “Fine. We’ll meet you at the pickup site.”

Nathan edged closer, even as Quinn gripped the back of his shirt. “How are you going to find us?”

Breslin spun away, tucking Hazel against his chest. “I’ll figure something out. Just make it to your contact.”

* * *

Deacon noted the determined set to his wife’s shoulders and resigned himself to losing this battle. Mated only recently, he nonetheless knew Lena’s mind in a way he knew would never grow old.

Today, however, she stretched his patience. He wanted only the best for her, which in his mind equated with safety.

“We are not going to have a discussion where you treat me like I’m a precious snowflake, are we?” Lena leaned back against his desk, gripping the edge as she delivered a stare meant to make him retreat.

“You shot a man in midshift. Between the eyes. Over my shoulder.” Deacon tried not to laugh. “I would be the last man on earth to take your skills for granted. However it’s instinctual for me not to enjoy watching you rush off into potential danger.”

“Hardly danger. I’ll be in the plane with Brindy most of the time. Besides, if there are other children in this lab besides Nathan, or if Breslin encounters some problem, one of us should be there. And your place is here helping Rayven prepare.”

“I’m fairly certain she would appreciate your presence too. You both seem to get along well.”

She tilted her head. “I get along with most people. I think the fact that your intelligent and bristly former second-in-command now works for me is a good indication of my social skills.”

He rubbed a hand across his eyes and sighed. “Yes, I’ll admit wooing Trim to your side was a sign of acceptance no one would dare dispute. But I’m not sure running off to the Karndottir territory is needed.”

“I’m used to tactical command. I also have emergency rescue medical training.”

“You’re not helping your case here, you know,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I’m also your female alpha. You’ve accepted the role as moderator and Rayven’s advocate for the tribunal; therefore, I’m stepping in to make the final decisions in case our team needs help elsewhere. Besides, I have your clout if Breslin’s situation gets out of control.”

He winced, hating that she was correct and logical. He didn’t want her having to use her former skills, but she had been damn good at her job. He could no more shove her into a safe box than he could give up his role as alpha and walk away from his people. He pulled her against him, clasping his hands around her waist. “Should I be concerned with the fact you’re so eager to put your life on the line here?”

“Admit it. If I were anyone else on your team, you wouldn’t give my going a second thought.”

“I’m not in love with any of the others,” he admitted ruefully.

She brushed a kiss over his jaw. “I won’t take unnecessary chances. I promise.”

He couldn’t withhold his frustrated laugh. “Because your safety is always your first priority.”

“I promise I’ll come back unharmed,” she whispered.

Rubbing his face against her hair, he inhaled deeply. “You’d better.”

She met his mouth and opened beneath his kiss, then pulled back. “Your well-being is, and will always be, my first priority and I know you’d have a meltdown if anything happened to me. But I need to do this. We need to do this—for both of them.”

Yes. He understood more than he cared to that while his mate was here safe in his arms, the boy he’d spent years trying to save might lose his only chance at a new life with Rayven if they failed. How like Lena to keep others foremost in her mind. Deacon lifted his head at the sound of vehicles coming to a halt in the driveway. “At least you get to meet Whitman, Alarico, and his mate, Bibiani.”

He held her in his arms until he sensed more than heard people enter the room, then glanced over his shoulder and moved to Lena’s side. “Speak of the devil.”

“Richly tanned and quite the fashion statement in maroon silk shirt with tailored pants. Not quite what I expected,” Lena muttered across their shared bond.

“Should I be worried?”

“I like my man able to rappel from helicopters with me and brave the cold.”

“I’ve always kept you warm.”

“Think I didn’t notice?”

“You notice too much.”

She chuckled as Alarico escorted a beauty with walnut-brown hair curling down to her hips and striking frost-blue eyes, the irises ringed in gold. They both moved straight to Lena with smiles of casual greeting, but Deacon knew his friend well enough to sense the slight tension in his body.

Trust between himself and Alarico had been well earned, but Deacon harbored a potential killer in his home, and the South American alpha wasn’t about to risk his beloved mate of many years by negligence in assessing any threats.

“Jaguar.” Lena’s voice held a shade of awe.

Once again, he reveled in the fact that his mate could detect the animal beneath the skin of his people. Having grown up human with such a talent could have broken her. Instead, it was just one more reason why her fit to him was sublime. “And the most dominant predator in his territory since Columbus sailed the oceans.”

“You have to tell me the story of how you became friends.”

“After the tribunal.”

Alarico bowed to Lena. Friend or not, he didn’t make the mistake of touching Deacon’s mate. “My friend, I’m glad to see you finally succeeded in winning a beautiful woman’s heart.”

“Deacon’s definitely won my heart,” Lena responded with a blatant look at him. “But he’s having a problem accepting my need for a little professional space.”

Bibi’s rich warm laugh coincided with a delicate elbow to her mate’s side. “Sadly an alpha trait. One that doesn’t go away even after years, and years, and years. I suspect you and I will become good friends.”

“I look forward to that. I often wanted to visit the Amazon. I hear the western coast of South America is also beautiful and the food incredible,” Lena responded.

“And the wines.” Bibi waved her hand in the air and then grasped Lena’s. “You will love it. No one can celebrate like our clan. The music and the food. Not to mention dancing.”

Deacon groaned, and Lena cast a worried glance his way, but he shrugged. For once, he wouldn’t mind taking part in the mating dances of Alarico’s territory. No doubt his mate would find the night of festivities as invigorating as the rest of Alarico’s clan.

Lena looked toward the only other person in the room. “You must be Whitman Sheridan.”

As always, Whit’s expression remained stoic as he dipped his head to Lena before he glanced one more time at his phone. What pressing need was weighing him down now? Then again, his sanctuary sat within an hour of one of the world’s leading financial capitals. The thought gave Deacon shudders. He equally marveled at and was repulsed by his friend’s ability to fit seamlessly into the top echelon of the New York elite.

“Black leopard. Power and money.”

“A rather quick judgment.”

“You’re testing me. But wearing a custom-tailored black suit—because I can tell that isn’t off the rack—with a crisp white shirt that doesn’t even look mussed after several hours on the plane, and that ruby-red tie screams dominant and in charge. He’s covering up his speed, lean muscles, and perhaps some anger issues beneath a camouflage. And the trim haircut just an inch shy of a buzz cut? In a shifter, I’d say that is rigid control worn like a shield. Heaven help his mate. Did I pass?”

“Excellent, as always. Humans never look past his façade and shifters don’t dare—your assessment is correct. Yet for all his polish, he can be ruthless when needed. He’s lost too many close to him to be anything but the predator he was born to be.”

Not that Deacon blamed him. It had taken strong will and determination to bring the northeastern American clan back from the brink of destruction and betrayal.

“Another story for after the tribunal?”

“I’ll tell you how we met.” But perhaps not all of Sheridan’s secrets. Deacon wouldn’t lie to his mate, but Whit’s secrets weren’t Deacon’s to tell.

Whit slid his cell phone into his pocket and moved in front of Lena. “I have to say that Deacon is luckier than he deserves. First, he beats me to the punch in recruiting a valuable lion shifter, then he convinces a beautiful, strong woman to live in the middle of nowhere as his mate.”

“Not too subtle.”

“Remember he is the prosecuting side of the tribunal.”

“I haven’t forgotten that for a moment.” She backed away from Whit until she leaned against Deacon’s chest. “It wasn’t a hard sell. I love everything about this clan and the land they protect.”

“And in all fairness,” Deacon added, sliding his arm around Lena’s waist. “Our resident lion shifter contacted me about joining my clan. I didn’t recruit him.”

Whit arched a brow. “But you came into my territory to get him.”

“Bitter much?” Alarico coughed into his closed fist as he jokingly looked between them.

Deacon raised a brow and smirked at Whit. “Hardly necessary if the syndicate in your territory hadn’t already been trying to kill him and his family.”

“I can’t be responsible for every bit of human mayhem going on around the country.” Whit didn’t continue and instead pulled his phone out again as it vibrated.

“Problem?” Deacon asked as Lena cast a side-glance at him.

“My sister is nowhere to be found,” Whit responded with a shake of his head and held up a hand to them while he texted with the other. “I’m not paranoid. She usually keeps in touch. How long do you think this tribunal will take?”

“Is that a good sign?”

“Not even a family distraction will keep Whit from a thorough and blistering counterattack.”

“Not exactly good times.”

Lena slipped her hand into Deacon’s as he narrowed his gaze on both alphas. “I’m hoping this will go very quickly.”

“She killed him, then,” Whit responded with certainty as he slid his phone back into his pants pocket.

“Deacon?” Rayven stood in the open doorway, her voice calm and even. Her posture showed no signs of either panic or cockiness. All in all, Deacon considered her first impression a good job of walking the line between subservient and dominant. Difficult for an up-and-coming alpha. Harder yet for one under intense scrutiny. “Brindy said you were looking for me.”

Everyone in the room turned. Alarico tensed and none too subtly tucked his mate closer to his side. Whit stood stock-still, evaluating his opponent with a keen eye and likely alpha senses as well. Deacon felt a moment of uncertainty as he waited to see if Rayven would pass their test. Lena’s hand tightened in his.

“This is it.”

“Yes.”

Alpha power swelled in the room, pressing against Deacon’s skin in a way that made the mantle push him to buck back. He stifled the need to shift and dominate everyone in the room. With his home open, vulnerable to others, the tether of control grew taut. But he wasn’t a fledging and his trust with the mantle had evolved over long and difficult years. He reminded himself and his wolf this was a minor event. Lena visibly paled, the overload of energy difficult for her human body to bear. He bolstered what he could across their bond, but he could do nothing for Rayven.

Her blink and the subtle telltale movement of her fingers at her sides indicated her struggle. One she had to handle on her own.

“Yes, please join us,” he said, adding more volume and command than usual.

Despite that, Rayven bore the appraisal from both alphas and his unexpected overbearance admirably.

Alarico’s eyes widened as he took in Rayven’s appearance. Deacon knew for a fact that her diminutive stature didn’t fool his friend. However, she possessed poise and grace, neither being traits inherent in her father. “You didn’t get those beautiful Irish eyes from your father. If you are lucky enough not to have inherited his gene for foul temperament, then we will all be happily done with this ordeal in no time.

“With you on your way home,” Alarico added with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

Whit cocked his head and crossed his arms over his chest, his alpha vibration still a slight tremor in the room. “It will take more than impressive beauty to sway the rest of the alpha board. And no offense, Ms. Karndottir,” he added, with a chill in his voice. “I’m surprised to see you moving without armed escort in Alpha Black’s home.”

He focused his stare. His sizzle of power ricocheted between Rayven and Deacon. “I’m taking it that I’m not misreading this message of your support of her, Deacon? I’m surprised you’ve taken this stance.”

At any other time, Deacon would have taken the gauntlet as a challenge, as an all-out assault. But Whit had accepted his role from the alpha shifter council as the prosecutor for this case, just as Deacon had accepted his. Whit’s goal—if that was a valid term—was to bring forward all the reasons why Rayven should be found guilty of this charge. The fact that Whitman Sheridan was one of Deacon’s closest friends couldn’t enter into that equation, or both of their territories would be at risk.

Deacon glanced at his charge and then noted the others in the room. “Rayven, this is Alpha Alarico, his mate and female alpha Bibiani, and of course, Alpha Sheridan. I wanted to give you an opportunity to meet some of the board members before the tribunal.” He made a point of turning to Whit. “The tribunal is supposed to get to the bottom of your father’s murder, not become foregone conclusion.”

A young boy’s laughter echoed from the hallway.

“I believe that’s her escort now,” Deacon said before Trevor made his appearance in the doorway.

Sliding to a stop in the doorway, Trevor smiled at Rayven. “Brindy said she needs you again to refund her search.”

She didn’t hide her responding smile. A fact noted by every alpha in the room. “I suspect you mean refine her search. Are we done?” she asked, looking up with barely a hint of the anxiety Deacon felt across the temporary clan bond. He nodded, and she dipped her head and left without a backward look at anyone in the room.

“Self-controlled and difficult to read,” Whit remarked. Not at all pleased, if his scowl was any indication.

“She maintains a remarkably cool disposition for someone facing a potentially dire fate.” Alarico looked to his mate.

Bibi shook her head. “I believe she’s fighting her fear and winning. Her response was mature, especially given she doesn’t know what her place is with any of you. But I’m sure she read that intrusive surge of power in this room as well as the rest of us did.” She pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath. “I find it commendable she didn’t take offense at such an obvious probe.”

Deacon didn’t respond. It was too soon for him to play his hand, but Lena took the opportunity, as he’d hope she would.

“From what I’ve learned of her, her interests center on issues other than slights or her own safety.”

“Espionage?” Whit snapped quickly.

“Locating shifter children abducted for drug testing,” Lena countered as she stared Whit down without flinching. She turned to Deacon. “You mentioned they were aware of our situation. Perhaps now is a good time to share notes.”

“If so, Ms. Karndottir’s protective instincts also distinguish her from her father’s views,” Alarico added.

Deacon was silently pleased with the observation. “Lena is correct. We’ll need to set aside some time to go over what you’ve found on the kidnappers since our last call. I have a suggestion, and a slight complication, regarding an individual who can find a solution to this medical problem.”

Before Deacon could comment, Whit continued. “I’ll admit I didn’t sense anything from her. If she killed her father to grab his power, she’s hiding it very well.” However, Whit’s gaze narrowed toward the doorway. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t kill him.”

Fair enough. But if these two men were searching for a crack in Rayven’s armor, they hadn’t detected one. Deacon counted this entire test a win.

* * *

Rayven rolled her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, watching Brindy’s fingers fly over the laptop keyboard. She sucked data from one window and flew to the next at a speed incredible even for a shifter. “You’re amazing at finding information.”

“I started young. My dad worked for our local lieutenant. I had access to Marsh’s computers from the time I could walk. When I was old enough, he gave me a part-time job working for the clan.” She paused to check a beep from her phone, frowned, then typed a quick response and shoved her phone into her pocket without comment.

Rayven watched her, fascinated. Brindy struck her as not only bright but a wellspring of energy—a one-woman machine. “And now you work for Deacon, and I guess help Breslin.”

Rousing from where he sat next to Rayven with his head on top of his arms on the table, Trevor finally chirped up. “Breslin is going to teach me how to fight.”

“Is he now?” Rayven could almost visualize the tall, silent enforcer instructing a youngster, and she didn’t blame Trevor in the least for his selection of tutor. “I’d like him to train me too.”

Trevor beamed as if he didn’t often get encouragement on this particular subject. “Then I’ll be able to move—” He whipped out of his seat and spun around on the floor, attempting a high jab through the air with his foot. “And kill all the bad guys so I can be Lena’s second.”

“My, that’s quite a goal,” she said. Yet his excitement dipped. Afraid he’d taken her comment as sarcasm, she added. “He does a twist, where he spins in the air and kicks with both his feet before he lands. Very effective. That would be the one I’d want to learn.”

Brightening again, Trevor nodded. “He did that on the mountain.”

“Really?”

“When everyone came to save my mom.”

Rayven’s heart swelled at the obvious trust and excitement barely contained in the child for a man most adults considered too dangerous to risk friendship with. Or perhaps it took the innocence of a child to accept the protective and quiet strength as reassuring while adults perceived it only as a threat. What wouldn’t she give to have her clan filled with men who evoked such trust? Role models for the next generation.

Instead, there were too many like Sam and Jacob. Karndottir’s reign ensured that male shifters of strong moral fiber died or remained hidden to safeguard their families.

Trevor canted his head as someone called his name from the hallway. “I gotta go. See you later.”

Brindy looked up from her computer screen for a moment and flashed an almost reluctant smile. “I get it now, though I’ll admit I was surprised. I’ve never seen Breslin fall for anyone, but he has it bad for you. It makes sense. You’re not afraid of putting yourself out there for people. Not for Trevor or Deacon, much less Breslin.”

Rayven sensed Deacon’s approach behind her. “Brindy.”

Even she could read the censure in the tone.

Brindy pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Rayven could have sworn the woman was holding back a laugh. “Just working on details and evidence. No fun. No secrets. Just focused, focused, focused.”

Rayven let her laugh go, feeling relieved for the first time since Breslin had left. Everyone had been very hushed about even saying his name around her. So much so, she’d begun to wonder if she’d imagined everything between them over the last few days. Except a feeling of him remained with her. She endured the painful tug in her heart that let her know he still existed. Puzzling since he wasn’t even in Alpha Black’s territory.

However, she realized the fun was over as she glanced at the stern expression on her temporary defense councilor’s face. “Will any of the alphas be staying in your house?”

Deacon shook his head. “They will all be staying in town. For their safety and yours.”

“Who would they need to be protected from? I’m no threat to them.”

“Actually, they’re a threat to each other,” he added with a wry smile. “By definition, alphas don’t play well with each other.”

“You seem to get along with the ones I’ve met so far. And, you and Lena are”—she was suddenly embarrassed in case she’d misread the overtures of help—“are civil and helpful to me—an accused murderer. If you believed me guilty, at least you’re not letting it interfere with helping in my defense.” Bringing them back to the reason why sitting in Deacon’s kitchen wasn’t a comfortable chat but a death knell for her with a ticking clock.

A chime on Brindy’s laptop went off.

“That’s my signal to get to the plane,” she said as she snapped the laptop shut, ducked her head, and left the room.