“Oh, God. If we’re too late…” Mir moaned as the car wove in and out of traffic, drawing angry honks from London’s myriad night-shift cabbies. “If we miss our curfew, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“We’ll talk to Barton and explain,” Phair said in a calm tone. “We’ll tell him it’s our fault. It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t understand,” she replied, trying but failing to avoid staring at the clock. It was ten fifty-five. “At precisely eleven, I know exactly what he’ll do. He’ll send…” She shut her mouth. Best not to say it. Saying it made it real, and she couldn’t bear for it to be real. Couldn’t bear to be the cause of more pain.

Damn it, why had she been so irresponsible?

“Wait, Mir—what will happen at eleven?” Cad asked.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard, hesitant to reply. Cad was doing as good a job as he could, manoeuvring the car in and out of an insane amount of traffic. But there wasn’t much he could do now. It was too late.

“It…it doesn’t matter,” Mir said. Except that it does. It matters more than anything in the world. “We just…we have to get there. Please, do everything you can.” She swallowed hard. “This is all my fault. God, I’m such a selfish idiot.”

“Shite, you’re worried about your sister,” Phair exclaimed as though a sudden moment of enlightenment had flickered to life inside his mind. “Oh, bollocks. I’m sorry, Mir. You’re not the selfish one; we are. I don’t know how it never occurred to us that Barton’s men might take this out on her. At most I thought he’d give us a stern reprimand.”

“Of course it wouldn’t occur to you,” she choked out. There was no point in holding back the tears anymore. “Because you don’t know Barton, not really. And you haven’t met Bry. You haven’t seen what they did to her. She isn’t real to you, not yet. But she’s real to me, and I can’t think what might happen to her if I don’t walk through the front door by eleven.”

“Don’t worry, Mir. There’s no way he or any of those bastard miscreants of his is laying a hand on her. If I have to lose my license to make it happen, I’ll get us there.” Cad hit the gas, shooting the car into the oncoming lane and tearing by the slower traffic like an ambulance on its way to the scene of a heart attack.

At precisely eleven o’clock, he pulled the Peugeot up in front of the club. The three leapt out of the car and dashed in through the front door, past the tables of late-night stragglers. Past confused-looking women and bartenders.

Mir slammed her hand into the door leading to the basement stairwell and tore down in her high-heeled boots, praying silently that she wasn’t too late. The shifters were right behind her, ready to spring into action. She only hoped that there wouldn’t be any need for violence tonight.

She sprinted into the kitchen.

Oh, God, she thought. I’m too late.

Gunner was standing over Bry, pressing her left wrist to the counter. A butcher knife was clasped in his right hand, ready to fall. When he heard Mir, he turned and glared at her as though he’d been waiting to see her eyes before committing the pending atrocity.

“You’re late,” he growled.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Traffic was bad. But we’re here now. Please—let my sister go.”

But Gunner only raised the knife higher in the air.

Mir shut her eyes, waiting for her sister’s scream to hit her ears like an explosion.

“Put the knife down, you bastard,” bellowed a deep voice from behind her. “Or I’ll rip your spine out through your sodding mouth.”

Mir opened her eyes, hope filling her like liquid fire. Gunner had frozen in place, the blade high in the air. But he didn’t seem to have done it of his own volition. It was almost like Phair’s voice had petrified him, turned him temporarily to stone.

She darted forward, grabbing Bry, who was still in one piece, and pulled her free of Gunner’s grip. The two sisters held each other while Phair walked up to Barton’s henchman and pulled the knife away from his hand.

He poked the man on the shoulder. “You can settle now, you wanker,” he said. Gunner’s arm dropped to his side and he stared, terrified, at the Béorn shifter.

“Jaysus, what did you just do to me?” he asked.

“Luckily for you, nothing,” said Phair. “But if you’d hurt the lady, I would have followed through on my threat. Now, go tell your boss that if he harms any of his ‘employees,’ he’ll have me to deal with. If any of you ever lays a hand on either of these two women again, I will make you suffer for it like you’ve never imagined. Do you hear me?”

Gunner nodded and sprang out of the room.

Cad stepped towards the two women. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking at Mir before settling his eyes on her sister. Mir watched nervously to see how Bry would react to the shifters.

But she didn’t seem afraid, or even stressed. If anything, she looked remarkably calm for someone who’d just lived through a trauma.

Bry nodded. “I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened, as you can see,” she said, looking up at Cad. For once, she wasn’t trying to hide the left side of her face behind a wall of hair.

“It’s the last time, though,” Cad said. “I promise you that.”

“Bry, um, this is Cad,” said Mir. “And Phair. They’re the men I was telling you about.”

“It’s our fault,” Phair said. “Our fault your sister was late, and we can’t apologize enough for it. We put you in danger, and that’s the last thing we ever wanted.”

“It’s all right,” said Bry.

“No, it’s not.”

She turned slightly and looked at him for a moment before narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “You two don’t care that I’m burned,” she said. Her tone told Mir that she was happy. Delighted, even, albeit in a subdued sort of way. A day ago she hadn’t wanted these men to know about her existence, but somehow, she’d accepted them into her life the moment they’d met.

More magic. That’s what this was.

Happiness was an emotion she hadn’t seen on her sister’s face in a long time.

“We care very much that you were injured,” said Phair. “We care that someone did this to you, that is.”

“But what I mean is, it doesn’t bother you that I have scars.”

Phair smiled. “You want to talk about scars? I have an enormous, out of control killing machine living inside me,” he replied. “A beast with fangs larger than that knife.” He nodded towards the would-be weapon on the counter. “I would never judge a lovely woman for a meagre flesh wound. Scars are maps of the places we’ve been. The things we’ve seen and done. Scars are badges to be worn with pride.” He pointed to the one on his left eyebrow. “This came from a Panther shifter some years back—who, by the way, has a very large set of slashes on his right cheek. Neither of us is ashamed to have been injured.”

“Yes, well, your scar’s cool,” Bry. “Mine, not so much.”

“Yours is amazing,” Phair said, “because it means you’re a survivor.”

Bry stared up into his eyes, a look of wonder settling into her features. “I can see why my sister likes you so much. Both of you. Thank you…for not judging me.”

“We’re half animal,” Cad said. “Animals don’t scrutinize in the way that humans do. It’s only humans who are so cruel and superficial. Besides, you, like your sister, are beautiful. You should really know that.”

Bry blushed and looked away. “Maybe there’s hope for me yet,” she said. “Out in the world. That is, if I ever see the outside of this place again.”

“Of course there’s hope,” said Mir. “Any shite who would judge a woman by her face isn’t worth a moment of your time, anyhow. I should know. I’ve met plenty of men who were only too happy to use me for an hour because they thought I was pretty, then chuck me to the curb. That’s not love. It’s not even like.” She looked up at her two shifters, her heart full. “Love is something deep inside. Something real, something that doesn’t alter with wounds or time. Love is kindness and warmth and protection. It’s as real in the dark as it is in the light.”

“Then I feel a lot of love right now,” Bry replied. “Thank you all for protecting me tonight.”

“We shouldn’t have had to,” said Cad. “Like Phair said, you were in that position because of us.”

Bry shook her head. “I was in that position because Barton is a sadistic bastard who likes to scare defenceless people.”

“A sadistic bastard who will soon find that he can’t hurt anyone anymore. At least we hope not,” said Phair.

“Listen,” said Cad, throwing a glance at Mir, “will you two be all right tonight? Do you want us to stay here?”

“We’ll be fine,” Mir said, though a hard dose of disappointment was making its way through her insides. She’d hoped to have more time with them. To feel their bodies against hers again, perhaps even for the entire night.

But that would have meant leaving Bry, and the fact was, she wanted to spend the night close to her sister. She’d already left her behind once tonight; she probably wouldn’t be able to enjoy herself if she did it again.

“Okay,” said Cad. “But before we go, there’s something I want you to have.” He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a mobile phone, a charging cord and some cash. He unlocked the phone and handed it over to Mir, along with the money.

“The things men manage to conceal under their clothes,” she chuckled. “You’re like those magicians who cram rabbits into hats.”

“Yes, we’re clever that way. Listen, this is my second phone. I don’t use it, but you should keep it on you,” he said. “Both of you should program in your fingerprints to unlock it. If there’s any kind of emergency at all, call the last number that was dialled—Bert’s number—and help will come quickly. Got it?”

Mir nodded. This Bert must be some kind of head shifter or something.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” said Phair, looking into her eyes for a moment. She saw a promise in his gaze, the promise of something wonderful. “Perhaps then we can finish that…conversation…that we started earlier.”

“I’d love that,” she said. “And really…thank you both. For everything.”

“No,” said Cad, “it’s we who should thank you, Mir.” He nodded towards Bry. “It was very nice to meet you, and we look forward to getting to know you better under happier circumstances.”

With that, the two men left for the night.