Dax pulled his ten-year-old Trooper onto the dirt road that led to a large white plantation home. The old house was off of River Road, south of New Orleans, and surrounded by moss-draped oak trees. He eyed the dozen beat-up cars parked out front and knew something was going down.

“Looks like we’re in for an interesting evening,” Sebastian said, tapping his thigh in a steady beat.

The tension rolling off him had Dax itching to escape the truck. Both of them were wired, and if they kept feeding off each other’s energy, neither one of them was going to be able to play it cool with the rest of the pack.

Dax blew out a breath as he pulled the Trooper to a stop and eyed the large plantation. Light glowed from all the windows, and two shifters were stationed out front.

Steeling himself, ready for anything, even the possibility that the pack had abducted the two fae, he climbed out of the Trooper and moved with purpose up the walk, Sebastian right behind him.

“Marrok. No one said you’d be here.” A shifter Dax knew only as Stone eyed him.

“I must’ve forgotten to RSVP,” Dax said dryly, not slowing down as he climbed the front steps.

“Hold up. Who’s the pretty boy?” Stone jerked his head toward Sebastian. “Your new boyfriend?”

“Sounds like you need a date, Stone.” Dax said. “Want me to set you two up?”

Sebastian let out a low growl, making it clear to them both he didn’t appreciate the exchange.

“Relax, pretty boy. I’m already taken,” Stone said as he let out a short laugh and opened the door for them, waving them in. “Good luck in there.”

Dax frowned, wondering why the hell they’d need luck but not asking. He’d find out soon enough. He walked through the entrance and was surprised to hear only a faint murmur from somewhere in the back of the house. When a dozen or so shifters were milling about at the compound, usually the decibel level was somewhere around a dull roar.

“Do you have a plan?” Sebastian asked, following Dax through the house.

“Not yet.” Dax made his way to the back of the house, scanning the empty rooms as his heavy boots echoed on the old hardwood floors. Finally he came to a stop at the end of the hall and pushed the door to the left open.

Inside, Nova Bandu, the leader of the Crimson Valley wolf pack, was at the front of the room, scribbling on a blackboard. He wore his dark hair in a man-bun, and he had at least three months’ worth of beard growth. His jeans were rolled up, and he was sporting suspenders over his plain white T-shirt. The shifter was easily over sixty years old if Dax remembered correctly, but thanks to the antiaging properties of the shifter gene, he looked like every other thirtysomething hipster in New Orleans. Twenty or so Crimson Valley wolves were seated in folding chairs, most of them leaning forward and hanging on Bandu’s every word.

Bandu turned around as he said something about canvassing the Bywater district. But when his gaze landed on Dax, he stopped abruptly and called, “Marrok! There you are. I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.” He gestured to an open seat in the front row. “We saved a seat for you.”

“You hang out back here,” Dax said under his breath to Sebastian. “Don’t ask them about anything, just listen and see what you can pick up.”

“Got it.” Sebastian took a seat in the back row next to two shifters who looked bored as hell. Good, he thought. If they weren’t interested in whatever Bandu had to say, maybe they’d find something more interesting to talk about.

A scattering of murmurs traveled through the pack as everyone watched Dax move to the front of the room. Before Dax claimed his chair, he scanned the shifters and let out a small sigh of relief when he spotted Leo and Dali on the far side of the room. At least the two of them had managed to stay out of trouble.

“Where were we?” Bandu asked, staring at his blackboard.

“You wanted a group of us to canvass the Bywater,” one of the shifters called out.

“Right.” Bandu turned around and eyed Dax. “We heard about your friends, the fae couple. We’re making a plan to search the city. If they’re still here, we’ll find them.”

Dax’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Why?”

Bandu’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why? Why not?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s exactly the right thing to do. But have you thought this through? Tangling with the vampires means walking headfirst into this simmering war.”

“You said it yourself, Marrok. It’s the right thing to do.” Bandu turned back around—but not before Dax noted the irritation in the leader’s expression—and continued to write down the various neighborhoods of New Orleans on the blackboard.

Dax kicked his feet out and smiled to himself. He’d wondered if Bandu was the real deal. The shifter leader had positioned himself as a man of conviction, ready to put himself on the line to do the right thing, to push boundaries to right any kind of wrong. The entire war against the vampires was based off of trying to stop the vampires from exploiting vulnerable shifters. It was good to know his convictions included helping species other than his own.

After Bandu identified the five neighborhoods where a vampire was most likely to locate a hideout, he assigned all the shifters in the room to canvassing shifts, even Sebastian, whom he welcomed without suspicion. Then he had each of them pledge to recruit a few friends to help them search for possible hideouts.

“That’s it for now,” Bandu said. “Those of you headed out now, don’t forget to stop by the arsenal to arm yourselves.”

The shifters all got to their feet and started to move out of the room. More than one placed a hand on Dax’s shoulder in a gesture of support as they brushed past him. Once the pack cleared out of the room, Bandu took a seat next to Dax.

“I’m glad you made it,” Bandu said.

“Why didn’t anyone call me?” Dax asked.

Bandu studied him for a moment, but instead of answering, he stood. “I want to show you something.”

His interest piqued, Dax stood and followed Bandu into an adjoining room.

Bandu flipped the light on and Dax sucked in a sharp breath. Three of the walls were covered with brutal images of supernatural beings, each of them mangled and soaked in blood. The fourth wall had images of young shifters, all of them with haunted expressions.

“What’s this all about?” Dax asked, dread creeping into his chest cavity, unsure if he really wanted to know.

“All of these people?” Bandu nodded to the ones who’d been brutally beaten or murdered. “They were attacked by vampires. Used as food or ripped to shreds for daring to protect someone else from becoming food.”

Dax’s stomach rolled. “How…” He swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat. “Where did all these pictures come from?”

“We have someone who works in forensics,” Bandu said, his expression flat and void of any emotion. “I asked for a running record. He sends them over once a month.” The leader walked over to a small desk and picked up a thick manila envelope. “This is last month’s delivery. Want to wager how many pictures are in here?”

“There aren’t that many attacks in New Orleans,” Dax said. “Kilsen and I—”

“No, they aren’t all in New Orleans,” Bandu agreed with a nod. “They’re from the entire state. Because you and Kilsen are so good at your jobs, the vampires in this town have taken to terrorizing the surrounding areas. They know you don’t go out into the bayou or up to Baton Rouge. Did you really think your work had cut down the number of attacks?”

Actually, Dax had thought exactly that, but he wasn’t about to admit it now. Instead, he asked, “You think the attacks are coming from the Cryrique vampire hive?”

“Maybe not the actual hive. Allcot is pretty strict about his inner circle’s behavior. But Cryrique is the largest vampire employer in the area. We have reason to believe there are groups within the organization that are actively seeking unwilling feeders.”

Nausea hit Dax as he took in Bandu’s theory. “You’re sure all these attacks are from vampires?”

Bandu walked over to the closest wall and pointed to puncture wounds on one of the victims. Then another and another. “Vampire marks on each victim.”

Dax curled his hands into fists as pure rage seared through his veins. He was certain that if one of Allcot’s vampires crossed his path right at that moment, he’d be compelled to rip him limb from limb.

Bandu walked over to the one wall full of people staring back at him. “And these?” He trailed his fingers over the glossy black-and-white photos. “They’re all survivors. Living with the memory of an attack.”

“That can’t be all of them,” Dax ground out. “Someone is attacked practically daily.”

“You’re right about that. There are far too many for this one wall. There are probably enough to plaster this entire house. But these are the worst. These are the ones I chose to remind myself what we’re fighting for.” Bandu’s tone was full of righteous conviction as he continued, “For justice, for peace of mind, for freedom to roam the city without fear.”

Dax moved to the middle of the room and took in the terror reflected back at him in the photos. He’d known vampires were a threat. Not all of them, but enough that New Orleans had become a city fraught with danger. It was why he and Phoebe had jobs at the Void. They were responsible for keeping the city safe. But clearly they weren’t. Not even close.

Disappointment and disgust coiled in his gut. How had he been fooling himself this entire time? He let out a curse and shook his head as if that would somehow dislodge the photos from his brain.

“It’s a lot to take in all at once,” Bandu said.

Dax nodded. “There’s no doubt about that.”

“I just wanted you to see what feeds my conviction.”

“Why?” Dax asked, giving Bandu his full attention. “Why me?”

“Because I want you to be my second. I need a strong shifter who can mobilize the pack when I’m not around. Who will know how to handle delicate situations and deal with pack politics.” Bandu smirked. “I figure working at the Arcane gives you special insight into dealing with that sort of thing.”

“That’s probably true,” Dax agreed. But he sure as hell didn’t know how he felt about being Bandu’s beta. He’d only come into the Crimson Valley pack in order to gain information about the missing vampires. He’d gotten almost nowhere on that front, because the moment he’d joined the pack, the attacks had pretty much stopped. Dax was certain it was because he’d been outed as an Arcane agent fairly quickly, but they hadn’t kicked him out. Halston had insisted he stick around and keep his ear to the ground for any new activities that might be brewing.

The only problem was, in the past few months he’d started to respect Bandu. The shifter was a man of conviction, and while his earlier attempts at vigilante justice had been misguided at best, the pack had since taken to providing free security to the city. It had turned out to drastically lower the rate of attacks, and Dax had started to think of the pack as noble in their attempts to do something positive.

On the other hand, if Bandu was hiding something or decided the pack would take it upon themselves to avenge the men and women in the photos, if Dax took the beta position, he’d be the first one to know when the shit hit the fan.

“What do you say, Marrok? Ready to join the cause?” Bandu asked.

Dax turned and stared the other man in the eye, wondering when exactly he’d started to admire the other shifter. Then he held out his hand. “I’d be honored.”

Bandu’s lips spread into a huge grin as he clasped Dax’s hand in his. “Welcome aboard. You’re not going to regret this.”

Dax nodded and prayed the other shifter was right.