The market was in full swing by the time they set the last children’s drum on the table.

“Growin’ big there, Finny-boy,” Old Bill said, nodding at Finn’s belly. “How many pups there gonna be?”

Finn blushed. He’d borrowed one of Dante’s sweaters—he’d grown bigger since the last Market Day, and couldn’t bear to buy a loose shirt for his final month of pregnancy. That money could be put to better use, after all. “Three, I think.”

Bill broke into a smile. “There’s a good number. Will ya let me be their god-grandpa?”

Finn’s heart swelled. He glanced at Dante, and found Dante grinning. “Sure,” Finn said. “We’d love to. You’ll spoil them rotten, Bill.”

Bill cackled. “Like ya wouldn’t!”

“Long as you don’t turn them into farmers, Bill,” Dante said. “We want them in the workshop first.”

Bill winked.

Finn nudged Dante in the ribs. “Already trying to make them work, are you?”

“Was kidding.” Dante pulled Finn into his lap, stroking his callused hands over Finn’s belly. “You thought of names for them yet?”

“George, and maybe Liam,” Finn said. “I haven’t thought of more.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dante pressed his forehead against Finn’s back, kissing down his spine.

Finn glanced at the market-goers around them, blushing. Still wasn’t used to Dante kissing him in public, or being intimate in front of a crowd. It felt awkward, incriminating. Especially when most of the pack was there, some at their own booths, some shopping around.

A handful gave them suspicious stares—since Dante joined them two months ago, the wary looks had been slowly decreasing.

Dante had helped the non-magic folk at first, picking up fallen change, helping children who had tripped on their own feet. He’d helped the water folk move their purchases to the cars, and when the wolves had watched them enough, Dante had gone with Finn to help clear driveways, trim bushes and work on gardens for their neighbors.

Dante had done his best. Now that his two probation months were up, Finn had been bracing for Arnold bringing the pack together, announcing that they had to leave.

As their first customers walked off with two olive-wood bowls, Little Thom crept up to the booth.

“Thom,” Finn said, cheering up. Daisy hadn’t been bringing Thom to his table for the past couple months. Finn had missed seeing Thom’s curious eyes, the mop of dark hair on his head. “How are you?”

Thom nodded, sucking on his thumb. “Drum,” he said, picking up one of the lollipop-shaped drums on the table’s edge. “I lost mine.”

“You can have that,” Finn said, his heart sinking. Had Daisy thrown his previous drum away?

Thom brightened. “Thank you. I like my drum.”

He took his thumb out of his mouth, held the drum’s stick between his palms, and spun it on its axis. The little beads swung and thumped on the drum’s taut skin, a bright, cheerful sound. Thom broke into a wide smile. A few market-goers looked over.

“Thom!” Daisy cried, her blond hair fluttering as she hurried over. “You weren’t supposed to scamper off by yourself!”

Then she took the drum out of his hands, and set it back on the table. The corners of Thom’s mouth turned down; the light faded from his eyes.

“I gave that to him,” Finn said. “Thom’s welcome to take the drum home.”

Daisy paused, looking at Finn. Then her gaze fell to his belly, and Dante’s face just behind his shoulder. “It’s fine,” she said tightly. “We don’t need it.”

Dante growled behind Finn. He wanted it!

Finn squeezed Dante’s hand. It’s not our business.

But you’re pack, Dante said.

“I want,” Thom cried when Daisy lifted him into her arms. “Mom! Drum is pack!”

Daisy opened her mouth, about to say something. Then she thought better of it and reached for her wallet. Slapped a bill down on the table, and took the drum. “So nothing is owed,” Daisy said, before stalking away.

Over her shoulder, Thom quieted. He took the drum from Daisy, waving at Finn as they left.

“I like that kid,” Dante said, squeezing Finn’s hips. He waved at Thom, and Thom played his drum again, until he and Daisy disappeared from sight.

It cheered Finn up, hearing the thump-thump-thump of that little drum somewhere in the crowd, whenever Thom fiddled with it.

“Does your wolf think of Thom as pack?” Finn asked.

Dante nodded. “Yeah.”

“Seems to me ya startin’ ta win some over, Dante, boy,” Old Bill said, grinning. “The youngins like ya. Anyone can see that.”

Dante smiled, his uncertainty flickering through Finn’s chest. “Maybe.”

The day crawled by, more curious shoppers stopping by their table as Thom played the drum through the market. I saw a boy playing this, a lady said. I think my son would like one, too.

They sold out of drums in the next two hours, and Finn felt the swell of Dante’s pride.

“You did it,” Dante whispered.

“It wasn’t me,” Finn said. “It was Thom.”

Dante hugged him anyway, kissing his neck.

It was later in the day, when the sun was shining down from overhead, that a murmur rippled through the crowd. Some of the pack yelped; whispers broke out, and people looked worriedly around.

“What’s happenin’?” Old Bill asked, peering at a gaggle of omegas clustered together. He raised his voice. “Someone go missin’?”

“It’s Thom,” one of the omegas said. “He’s gone!”

A ribbon of worry slid through Finn’s chest. Dante growled. “He’s gone?”

“Daisy’s gone to find him, but his scent’s disappeared into the crowd,” the omega said worriedly. “Mike’s searching, too. He’s been gone half an hour, now.”

Dante got to his feet, frowning. “Thought you guys were pack. How do you let a pup slip off like that?”

The omega scowled at Dante, but said nothing.

“I’m joining the hunt,” Dante said to Finn. “Wait here.”

Finn yelped. Would the pack even let Dante close to their pup?

“A wolf can run the length of this canyon in fifteen minutes,” Dante said. “Thirty minutes should’ve been more than enough time to find him.”

He might’ve gone further than that, Dante added in Finn’s mind. If they can’t find him, he might’ve traveled out by car.

Everyone here knows Thom, Finn thought. No one would take him away on purpose.

Dante shrugged. Could be accidental. Could be on purpose. I’ve seen bastards in my pack do that.

A cold chill slithered down Finn’s spine. Dante was right. Finn glanced around—everyone’s attention was off them now. Finn wanted to follow Dante on the hunt, but he couldn’t run. Wasn’t going to add to Dante’s burden if Dante happened to find Thom.

“I’ll take care of Finny,” Old Bill said, patting Finn on the shoulder. “He’ll be safe with the pack. Join the search, boy.”

“Thanks. Be back soon,” Dante said, bending to press a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Then he shifted into a large gray wolf and loped off into the forest, his paws padding silently on the dry earth.

Finn watched as he disappeared into the trees, twisting his fingers together. What if Thom had really been kidnapped? What if the pack wolves decided Dante was a danger to them, and they turned on him somewhere in the canyon?

Keep you updated, Dante told him. What range?

Half a mile, I’ve heard, Finn said. I’m not sure I’ll hear you outside that.

Call you if find Thom, Dante said.

Finn bit his thumb, staring blankly at the maple bowls on his table. Be safe.

Dante sent a wave of fondness, then fell silent.

Old Bill reached over, patting Finn’s knee. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Bill said. “He’ll be fine.”

It was one thing to think that, and another to wait. As Dante ran, he sent Finn updates. He was running through the forest. He was climbing to the canyon’s peak. He passed some pack wolves while he ran along the canyon’s ridge, but none followed him.

At the near end of the canyon, Dante listened. Birds, trees, traffic noise.

Then he heard a drum.

Finn’s blood ran hot and cold. Is it Thom?

Small drum, Dante answered. Far away. Five miles? Outside canyon.

I’ll tell Bill, Finn said. Call me if you find him.

Dante sent another wave of fondness, and then he went silent. Finn turned to Bill. “Dante says he heard a drum.”

Old Bill’s rheumy eyes flickered to Finn’s table, where the children’s drums had been. “Yours?”

Could Finn’s drum help locate the pup? Finn bit his lip, his pulse racing. “Dante doesn’t know. He’s going to find out.”

The Topanga Canyon opened into the sea, but between the canyon and the sea, the Pacific Coast Highway stretched along the shore.

If Thom was outside the canyon... then of course the pack wolves hadn’t been able to locate him. But Thom was three years old—how had he gotten that far? Was he traveling further?

Dante didn’t speak for several minutes. Around them, the wolves frowned and muttered, and even the non-magic folk in the market picked up on their unease.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, stopping by Finn’s booth with her mother. “Mr. Finn?”

“There’s a boy missing,” Finn said. “Dante’s gone to search for him.”

Sarah bounced, her red curls bobbing. “Mr. Dante’s great! He saved me, too!”

“Did he, now?” Sarah’s mom asked, curious.

Finn froze, his mind racing. He couldn’t risk the parents of his remaining students deciding that those classes were dangerous for their children.

Sarah made a face. “I was trying to help. I put metal and metal together. It came alive.”

“Goodness,” her mom said. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

“Dante caught it in time,” Finn said. “He’s my assistant—”

“He’s Mr. Finn’s husband!” Sarah said proudly. “They fit just right.”

“—and he’s very capable,” Finn finished, his cheeks burning. Didn’t need to discuss how well he and Dante fit in front of everyone.

“Dante’s our pride and joy,” Bill said. “He’s been helping me can these preserves, too.”

Dante, Finn groaned as Sarah and her mother stepped over to look at Bill’s wares. You’re starting to build quite the reputation, here.

As though Dante had heard him, Finn’s phone rang. He jumped, pulling it out. Dante’s name was on the screen. “Dante?”

“Found him,” Dante said. “He’s safe. We’re three miles east on the highway. Be right back.”

Finn sagged with relief.

Old Bill perked up—he’d heard the conversation, too. “Dante-boy’s found Lil Thom!” he said. Then he turned to the gaggle of omegas, and repeated his words. The omegas frowned.

“That’s great!” Sarah’s mom said.

“I told you.” Sarah grinned.

The news spread through the marketplace. Finn watched nervously as the wolves muttered amongst each other, glancing toward his booth. Dante had found Thom—that was great. But the pack’s judgment... what if they thought Dante had caused Thom’s disappearance, somehow?

The minutes dragged by. It felt as though someone or other was looking at him every other minute, judging his relationship with Dante. Finn concentrated on listening for his mate, wishing he were here.

Then Dante said, Coming soon, and Finn had never been more relieved to hear his alpha’s voice in his head.

He turned, scouring the forest with his eyes. Got out of his chair, grabbing his walking cane. Didn’t want to wait.

“I’ll watch ya table,” Bill said.

With murmured thanks, Finn hurried to the edge of the marketplace. Gray fur flashed through the forest, headed straight for him.

Thom beside highway, Dante thought. Dangerous. Could’ve died.

Finn felt the flicker of anger in Dante’s chest, the rumble of unease.

In his jaws, Dante gripped a tiny gray wolf by the scruff of his neck. Thom held the stick of his red drum between his teeth, his paws dangling as he watched the forest fly past.

Then Dante stopped in front of Finn, large and powerful, his chest heaving. Finn gulped. Lowered himself to his knees, scooping Thom into his arms. “You found him!”

Dante dipped his chin, but didn’t say anything. He was too angry to. Thom yipped and wagged his tail.

“I didn’t know you knew how to shift,” Finn said to the pup.

Thom squirmed in his arms, his jaws parting in a smile. The drum tumbled onto his chest, cradled in the soft fur of his abdomen. He looked so small, so innocent, and Finn couldn’t help thinking about the pups in his own belly. Was this what it would feel like to cradle their child? Finn’s throat grew tight.

Dante stepped close, nuzzling Finn’s shoulder. Mine.

Kind of felt like they were a family, in that moment.

Behind, the murmur of the pack grew louder. The omegas from the marketplace hurried over, shoes thumping on the dirt.

“Thom!” Daisy cried, skidding to a stop next to Finn. Finn handed Thom over, and Daisy raked her eyes over her pup, sniffing at him. “He—he shifted?”

“He hasn’t before?” Finn asked, surprised.

“Not before today, he hasn’t.” Daisy bobbed Thom in her arms, hugging him close. “I didn’t even see him shift—I can’t believe I missed it. When did it happen?”

Dante shifted back into a man, standing close to Finn. “Found him naked three miles down the PCH. All he had was that drum, no clothes. He shifted back into a wolf when he saw me, so I brought him back.”

“How did he even get there?” Daisy asked, distraught. “No one took him out of the canyon!”

“Seemed like he hitched a ride and tumbled out of a truck,” Dante growled. Should’ve been taking better care of that pup, Dante said in Finn’s head. “Looked him over—he moves fine. Seems to me he shifted on the truck and didn’t know what to do with his clothes.”

Daisy pressed her mouth into a thin line. “He must’ve sneaked off at the market. Bad boy, Thom.”

Thom whined, looking down. Finn wanted to hug the poor pup.

“Anyway... thanks. For bringing him back,” Daisy said, glancing at Dante. “We thought he’d wandered off into the canyon.”

Dante shrugged. “Just thought it was weird you couldn’t find him.”

Finn imagined his own pups gone missing, and shuddered. And then he was proud of Dante, for finding the pup so quickly. Mate, Finn thought, leaning into his alpha.

Dante nuzzled him.

“Who knows if he didn’t kidnap Thom himself?” one of the pack wolves asked. “Maybe he’s an accomplice.”

“He was here when Thom disappeared,” someone else said. “I saw him. He’s a jerk, but maybe he’s not pure evil.”

“I heard that non-magic pup,” an omega added. “Girl called Sarah. She said he rescued her.”

The pack wolves looked consideringly at Finn’s alpha, whispering amongst themselves.

And maybe there was hope for Dante. Maybe the past two months of work meant the pack would accept him as one of their own.

His heart fluttering with hope, Finn watched the wolves, slipping his hand into Dante’s.

A couple of younger omegas eyed Dante up and down, as though taking stock of him. As though they were considering him for themselves.

Mine, Finn’s wolf growled. He stepped in front of Dante, so they weren’t ogling Dante’s pecs, his solid chest stretching his shirt. Then the omegas’ attention switched to Finn, and he squirmed. Felt them looking at his swollen belly, the blue lines on his skin. They looked at his walking cane, and Finn knew they’d seen him hobble.

Finn shrank back. He wasn’t the best omega there was. He couldn’t run with the pack, couldn’t help defend anyone.

And even though he and Dante were bonded, the pack didn’t acknowledge it. For them to be an official pair, they had to perform the bonding ritual. Would the pack even give them the chance?

“Seems to me that trouble happens whenever the murderer is around.”

Humphrey pushed his way into the circle, sneering.

Dante tensed. Finn’s stomach sank.

“I don’t know if you remember,” Humphrey said, jerking his chin at Dante. “When he first got here? We had an attack from some wolves. Looked like they were after Old Bill and Finn.”

The wolves murmured. Finn frowned, straightening his shoulders. “They were after Dante. Bill and I stepped in.”

Humphrey’s beady eyes gleamed. “Then he poses the same threat to the rest of us. What if those wolves return? How many of us will be endangered?”

“You won’t be,” Dante muttered, his eyes flashing. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Big words for a murderer,” Humphrey said. “How do we know you aren’t secretly plotting to kill us?”

“I’m not,” Dante growled.

“Bet you told your victims that, didn’t you?” Humphrey said. “How many lies did you feed them so you’d gain their trust?”

The wolves murmured.

Dante gritted his teeth. Finn had never asked him about the murders—he figured Dante didn’t want to talk about them, anyway. Maybe Dante had lied to his victims. Maybe he’d gone straight for the kill.

But because Dante didn’t answer, Humphrey smirked. “Bet you did all kinds of unscrupulous things to them,” Humphrey said. “You took the kids away from their parents. You ripped their throats open.”

Dante’s eyes flashed, and his mouth thinned. Finn wanted to say something to defend Dante, but there was nothing he could do about the murders. They had happened. There was no changing the past.

The pack looked distrustfully at Dante.

“Pups?” someone hissed. “You murdered pups?”

Dante closed his eyes; Finn swayed. He knew about the pups. Didn’t want to think about them—it was in the past. But Finn felt the choking weight of Dante’s guilt, so terrible that it threatened to crush his heart.

“Dante regrets it,” Finn said, leaning against his mate. “He won’t do it again.”

“How are you so sure it’s not a lie?” Humphrey asked, his eyes glinting.

“I can feel it,” Finn said.

“Who do you trust?” Humphrey asked the crowd. “A murderer and the omega he knocked up?”

Dante growled, baring his teeth. “Don’t you dare talk about Finn like that.”

But Humphrey glanced at Finn, raking his gaze down Finn’s body. Finn’s hair stood on end. Couldn’t help that sick, oily feeling Humphrey always gave him.

“He’s mine,” Dante snarled, stepping around Finn with his fists clenched. “Don’t even look at him.”

“Who knows if he forced Finn to bear his pups?” Humphrey said, mocking. “With Finn’s lame leg, he can’t run if you pin him down.”

Finn’s face burned. He tucked his bad leg behind his good one, acutely aware of the pack’s eyes on his bum leg, the glances they shot his walking cane.

Dante snarled. “Everything we did, it was of Finn’s free will. Not that you know what free will is.”

“Big words, coming from a murderer.” Humphrey smirked as Dante stalked toward him. “Are you going to murder me, too?” Humphrey asked. “Show your true colors in front of our pack?”

“Don’t you dare talk about my omega like that,” Dante hissed, fur bristling across his skin.

It seemed like Humphrey had been prepared for this, when he said, “Even that murder attempt on Finn, huh?”

Dante flinched. And Humphrey’s smirk grew wider.

“That’s enough, Humphrey,” Finn said. “That’s none of your business.”

Humphrey glanced at Finn, his attention dropping to Finn’s belly. Finn covered it with his hand, his skin itching. Couldn’t stand Humphrey’s attention; it seemed that the pack omegas felt the same.

“How does it feel to bear a murderer’s pups, Finn?” Humphrey asked. “Unclean?”

And now anger unfurled through Finn’s chest, too. “You know nothing about him,” Finn said quietly.

“I know enough,” Humphrey said, glancing at Dante from the corner of his eye, turning his meaty head. “We’ve spent too long with a parasite in our midst.”

Dante’s fury jolted through their mental connection.

Finn held his breath. Don’t lose control of your wolf, he thought.

I won’t, Dante said.

The pack wolves backed away, still watching. Daisy had left with Thom, but Finn couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dante, the power rippling off him, the violent ferocity.

With every step Dante took, Finn’s anticipation and anxiety grew. Humphrey deserved a punch. He deserved payback for the things he’d said.

And yet, Dante was the wrong person to deliver all of that.

“If Finn was so important to you, why’d you try to kill him, then?” Humphrey asked, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Even if I touched him, it would be nothing compared to what you’ve done. I heard he can’t walk straight because of you. Did you break him when you fucked him too hard?”

Finn swayed, sick with all the things Humphrey said. Humphrey’s words were what made him feel unclean.

Dante lunged, swinging his fist at Humphrey.

Humphrey dodged. “How do we know if Finn’s free will wasn’t from your manipulation? We can all agree that an omega deserves better.”

“It’s better than mating with you,” Dante snarled, circling Humphrey.

“I bet he’ll enjoy my cock more,” Humphrey said. “That’s all he wants from you anyway, isn’t it? Just think how loud he’ll scream if I f—”

Dante punched Humphrey square in the jaw. There was a click of teeth, and Dante’s thoughts quieted into the focus of a wolf.

Finn’s chest tightened. Dante, no!

But Dante pummeled Humphrey to the ground, smashing his fist into Humphrey’s face. He punched Humphrey’s eyes, clamping his hand down on Humphrey’s throat, choking him. Slammed his knuckles into Humphrey’s nose. There was a sickening crack.

The omegas around them murmured, but all Finn could see was Dante punching Humphrey’s head into the dirt ground, tearing out chunks of his hair, his claws ripping through Humphrey’s cheek.

Finn gripped his walking cane, two seconds from pulling Dante back. You’ll get into so much trouble for this.

Humphrey howled. “Murderer! He’s trying to kill me!”

Dante punched his mouth shut. Blood spilled down the side of Humphrey’s face, like he’d bitten through his tongue.

In his chest, Finn’s wolf perked up, drawn by the coppery scent of blood. And even though it was wrong, Finn couldn’t help the swell of pride for his alpha.

Humphrey struggled, coughing out blood. Dante punched him in the jaw again, his fist bloody, his eyes intent, dangerous. Humphrey pulled his leg under Dante, kicked him hard in the stomach.

Dante grunted; Finn’s throat tightened. If Dante continued this... he could kill Humphrey.

And as much as Finn would like to see it happen, he couldn’t risk their position in the pack any more. Couldn’t risk Arnold seeing this, Arnold deciding Dante was better off dead.

Finn hobbled forward, reaching out to touch Dante’s shoulder before he spiraled further.

“Dante, stop,” Finn said.

Dante whirled at the touch, his eyes flashing, his teeth extended into fangs. Finn expected him to calm, expected him to listen.

Instead, Dante swiped at Finn with sharp claws, close to his belly.

He no longer recognized Finn.