A few hours later, Ryenne answered the knock at her door. She had tried to rest but she was too keyed up. She had exercised, she had pleasured herself while thinking of Lucien—as usual—and she had showered.

Now, Tess waited at her door. She held out a black strip of cloth. “Here, put this over your eyes.”

Ryenne took the cloth, her face scrunched up. “So, I won’t be able to see where we’re going?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Right,” Tess said.

“You remember I’m a shifter now, right? I’ll be able to figure out where we’re going with my other senses.”

“Yeah, that’s why we brought this, too.” Tess swung her hands forward from behind her back. Before Ryenne could react, Tess jabbed her with a stun gun and Ryenne went down.

When Ryenne woke, she was on a bed, on top of the softest blanket she’d ever felt, in a bedroom with antique furniture. It felt posh but Ryenne couldn’t have said why. Light streamed in from a window. Ryenne went to look out and gasped at the incredible view over Manhattan.

“Good, you’re up,” a male voice said from behind her.

A man with brown hair, graying at the temples, of average height, and with wrinkles creasing the skin around his eyes stood in the doorway. He placed a tray with plates, a glass, and delectable food smells on the antique wooden dresser next to the bed.

“Dad?” Her voice was tentative but her actions were not. She ran at him, throwing her arms around him. He squeezed her to him, and she sighed. She had forgotten how it felt to be hugged by her father. She hadn’t realized she missed his touch. Tears pricked her eyes.

Standing back, she swiped at her eyes. “You’re alive. You’re really alive.”

He grinned. “I am.”

“But... how? Why? All this time...” she stammered.

He bowed his head. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry, Ryenne. I’m sure you have lots of questions and I want to tell you everything. I want to explain. But I have a meeting in a few minutes. So, here.” He gestured toward the tray of food. “Have something to eat. Feel free to wander the apartment. Use anything you need. I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we’ll sit and catch up.”

Ryenne took in details of her father she’d ignored earlier. He wore a business suit, one that looked expensive and fit him perfectly. Under it, his body was more toned than it had been when she was a child. He’d never been one to work out, and Mom had loved to tease him about his beer belly.

And it sounded as though he not only worked with the Fangs, but with Lord Enterprises. Judging from the expensive suit and this room, he worked closely with Lord.

He rubbed a hand from her shoulder down her arm. “I’m sorry, I have to go. See you later?” He made it sound like a question.

She nodded.

He left the room, closing her door behind him. She listened for sounds beyond the door. Footsteps and then a heavy thud. No voices, no one else was in the apartment. The scent of wolf hung in the air. From her father. He’d been turned.

She’d suspected it as soon as she’d learned he might still be alive and was somehow associated with the Fangs. But the confirmation was like a punch to the gut.

Was that why he hadn’t come home? Why he’d never contacted them?

She shook her head. How could her father think that just because he was a wolf shifter, she and her mom wouldn’t want anything more to do with him?

She glanced around the room but didn’t see her phone. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Lucien, Gavin, and her mom hadn’t been in touch since she’d stormed out of the hospital room the other day.

Anyway, this was what she wanted. She wanted to come to the Fangs, to her dad. And here she was.

The tray of food beckoned. Macaroni and cheese and a double chocolate brownie. Her favorites when she was twelve. When she’d last seen her dad.

She was hungry. Ryenne had been too anxious for breakfast and she didn’t remember when she’d last eaten.

Standing over the plate, she wolfed down the mac ‘n’ cheese. She took the brownie with her and ventured beyond the living room.

The apartment was swanky. Walls of windows, a balcony beyond the living room. Modern furniture, all glass and metal. Granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances in the kitchen. Judging from the view and their height, this might be the penthouse apartment. Was it her dad’s, or Mr. Lord’s?

Ryenne found a closed door that wasn’t locked. Entering, she found a study. There were pictures of people on the walls, unlike in the living room. Pictures of her father with Tess, pictures of her father with a muscular black man. Something niggled in her brain. The man was familiar but she couldn’t place him. Could he be Mr. Lord? She didn’t think so. There was something in his rigid posture and wary eyes that made her think he was more likely to be a bodyguard.

On the desk were framed photos of her and her mother, and one of her and her brother when they were little with their grandparents. Mr. Lord wouldn’t have her father’s personal photos on his desk. This must be her father’s apartment. He sure had come up in the world since his days as a suburban lawyer.

She returned to the picture of her father and Tess. He had his arm around her shoulders and she gazed at him lovingly. It didn’t look like colleagues who enjoyed working together. It looked like way more than that.

Her stomach heaved and she almost lost the mac ‘n’ cheese.

Was her father dating Tess? She wasn’t much older than Ryenne.

She shook her head. Things weren’t adding up. Maybe the zap from Tess’s stun gun had clouded her brain. She needed some air.

In the living room, she tried to open the door to the balcony but it was locked with a digital keypad. Using her strength didn’t work. She ran to the front door, the one she’d heard thud heavily closed behind her dad. It, too, was locked by a digital keypad and wouldn’t budge.

She was locked in.

Why would her father lock her in? She had come willingly. The Fangs didn’t need to keep her prisoner.

With no way out, she went back to her father’s study to search for clues. She opened a filing cabinet and rifled through the folders, unsure of what she was looking for.

Until she found it.

A letter addressed to Mike Lord:

The picture was of her dad and Tess.

Dad was married to Tess?

A pounding started in her head and she couldn’t hear even her own thoughts past the rushing of blood in her veins.

Dad was Lord. The head of the Fangs.

Steven Muteti had only hired her in Kenya because Mr. Lord told him to. And Mr. Lord had told him to turn Ryenne into a shifter.

Jean Grieux had said her dad will be so proud of her now that she was one of them. She was a shifter because of her dad. He had done this to her. Just as surely as if he had been whispering in Patrick Grieux’s ear that night a few weeks ago. It was the outcome he’d always wanted.

She stepped back from the filing cabinet, step after step, until she banged into the open door. She stumbled out to the living room, stared out into the sunshine over Manhattan.

Her mother didn’t know any of this. She had to tell Mom. The man was sending her flowers. Who knew what he might do next?

She reached into her jeans and then remembered she didn’t have her phone. It had been a mistake to come here. She’d thought she wanted the chance to get to know her father, to understand why he’d made the choices he had all those years ago, to understand what he saw in the Fangs when all she had seen for so long was evil.

Now, she was stuck here and stuck with the awful knowledge that her father hadn’t just joined the Fangs, he had started them. He was their leader.

The shock began to wear off and she could think clearly again, but the disgust remained.

There was nothing she could do. As long as she was a prisoner here, she might as well find out everything she could. So she went back to his office and searched it methodically, then continued to his bedroom. She searched every drawer, looked at every picture, painting, and photograph, every piece of decoration. Every trapping of his success. When she finished, she went through each room again, putting everything back in place.

By the time her father returned, she had had time to compose herself and get used to the idea that her father ran a multinational corporation of rogues. A front for organized shifter crime.

No matter her reasons for coming here, there was no way in hell she’d join the family business.