Aubrey slid out of the vehicle and moved to stand beside Rayven. “He doesn’t look so tough. A little cold and mean, yes, but too good-looking. I can take him and you can drive away.”

“I’m not driving away,” Rayven said, exasperated as she took in the sight of Breslin leaning against a tree, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and his arms crossed over his chest watching them. He watched them from beneath a hooded gaze, his thick shoulder muscles relaxed with an easygoing stance of one leg crossed over the other. She wasn’t fooled. He might be looking at them, yet he was also soaking up every potential threat around them. “I’m not sacrificing you either. I appreciate you driving me here, but you need to leave and meet up with Elijah.”

Scowling, Aubrey moved in front of Rayven and turned her back on Breslin. “You know the phone number of the bar, right? Call and we can pick you up.”

“If you ladies are done picking a place to meet up once the tribunal is over, we need to get moving.”

Aubrey flicked her fingers his way with a quick glance over her shoulder. “Move along until I know you can’t hear.”

Rayven’s heart stuttered a bit. Hope of surviving the tribunal and later joining up with, well…friends, seemed a long shot right now. But she appreciated his attempt to give her that hope, and Aubrey too.

“I’ll call Elijah’s bar. Tell Quinn that too.”

“Why don’t you let him know yourself?” Aubrey shook her head. She sniffed and froze as her eyes widened. They narrowed, and she turned her head, looking from Breslin to the backpack sitting at his feet and back up. “I smell—” She sniffed again. “Meatloaf. And chocolate chip cookies, warm chocolate chip cookies. And—” She spun back to Rayven, with brows vanished beneath her bangs. “Is he for real?”

“Garlic bread,” muttered Rayven with a sigh. She was salivating again. At least it took the edge off her pain. Judging by Breslin’s stoic expression, which she now knew for smug male conceit, he knew exactly what reaction he’d caused to her stomach juices and her ovaries. He was lethal, all right, and pretty appealing even without the food.

“Seriously. That might be his version of your last meal. Right before he makes certain no one ever sees you again. Or,” Aubrey swung back toward her and whispered, “in some clans, what he’s done counts as courtship.”

Rayven rolled her eyes. “Nope to both. Trust me.”

But she couldn’t stop her tongue from snaking out over her lips to catch a taste from the air. Between her injuries and constantly moving to evade attacks, her energy reserves were shot. She knew it. Breslin had obviously keyed in to that as well. Shifters consumed massive quantities of food, injured ones even more.

No point in reading too much into his motives, though it made sense he wouldn’t want to waste his own energy dragging around her corpse.

But meatloaf—really? He knew the way to her heart with food—if she had a heart. However, she’d locked hers down tight after a lifetime of running from men in her clan. “I’m sure he wouldn’t waste money on feeding me only to kill me afterwards. Right, big kitty?”

“You’re insane,” Aubrey murmured, still rooted to her spot. “The food could be for him when he’s done.”

“I already had a bucket of fried chicken in town while I was waiting,” Breslin said, raising a brow. “Along with potato wedges and two apple turnovers.”

Apple turnovers? Rayven sniffed, but the gleam in Breslin’s eyes assured her he had more in the pack and was teasing her, luring her. Was he catnip for her bear? That analogy didn’t quite work, though the tasty temptation did. Besides, good food was comfort food. The warmth most people shared with friends and family, with community. She’d experienced blessed little of that, but her love of food still made what he offered her a rare treat.

“Maybe I should go with you.” Aubrey snorted indelicately and followed with another telltale sniff of the air. “You know, to protect you from him.”

“Trying to muscle in on my last meal?” Rayven said and smiled as Aubrey frowned.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“Not yet. Now get out of here. And don’t forget to ditch the vehicle somewhere soon.”

“Right. And don’t eat so much you can’t fit through the small cracks underground.” Aubrey shivered and shook her head as if ridding herself of a bad taste.

“No worries there,” Breslin said as he hoisted the backpack over his shoulder and scanned the hills around them. “Even with all the food I give her, she’s still losing too many inches off those curves.”

Without another word, he walked toward the trail.

Did he really say that?

“Did he really just lust after your curves?” Wide-eyed, Aubrey blinked and then turned back. “What the hell is going on between you two?”

“Nothing.” Sadly, less than nothing, though she wasn’t sure why it made a difference to her. But she found it sad that the most comfort she’d received in her life came from the person dragging her to her possible execution. “He wants me dead as much as everyone else. He’s just too professional to let me die on his watch.”

Aubrey stared between her and Breslin, who’d halted a few yards away, holding the huge backpack effortlessly with two fingers. She grabbed her in a hug that brought tears to Rayven’s eyes.

Damn, that bullet wound hurts.

“I’ll see you in a few days, boss.”

Blinking, Rayven watched Aubrey leave before she turned back to Breslin. He’d called someone on his phone and had his head ducked, intent on the conversation.

“I’ll probably be off the radar for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” He paused. “No, Brindy. This is faster. Everyone will be watching for us overland, and then we’ll get there too late for her to prepare for the tribunal. Right, let Deacon know.”

He slid the phone in his pocket and waited as she walked toward him. She hadn’t heard one “honey” or “I love you,” but something unpleasantly like jealousy turned her normally rational thoughts to fury for a split second.

“We’ll make it in twenty-four hours,” she said. “But were you guessing, or have you been in these caves?”

“Once. I wasn’t here long. I could be wrong about the time to make it through, but Brindy’s satellite reads are usually accurate.”

Of course, Brindy’s work is perfection. Rayven struggled to get control back over her absurd thoughts. “No. Assuming that tremors haven’t caused any collapse in the tunnels I’m familiar with, we should make it to your territory with time to spare for my lynching.”

His mouth twitched. “Need some attitude adjustment there, Sacagawea?”

“I didn’t blaze a path through the caves.”

“No. But I’m not aware of anyone else who has either.”

“Well, you’d be wrong.” She grinned. “Turns out there are funded studies, human explorers who go into some of these caves and map them out.”

He rocked back on his heels, humor gone from his expression. “We’re going to run into humans down there?”

Without a word, she passed him and started up the hill. “Not in my caves. They’re mapping some of the other caves running beneath the Rockies in this area.”

“I’m still awarding you the trailblazer badge,” he said from directly behind her. “Not many women I know spend time scouting around in the dark miles beneath the surface.”

“I didn’t want to develop this skill. Did you know these caves and tunnels run beyond the edge of Karndottir’s—the clan’s territory? They end within Black’s border.”

He stared at her with a sudden ferocity, and she realized she was discussing the caves with herself. He’d walked ahead. “I don’t, you know.”

“You don’t what?” she asked.

“Want you dead.” But he didn’t offer any more than that. He’d heard what she told Aubrey, and all this time, he was holding on to that sliver of information. Why tell her now? Puzzled, she walked past him and concentrated on the path.

She stopped a hundred yards up the hill. He paused behind her at the solid rise of rock and looked at her in question. “Here?”

With a nod, she patted a large flat boulder. “We move this one and head in.”

Hesitant, he set down the pack, dug out a large bottle of water, and gestured with his chin toward some smaller rocks. When she didn’t immediately move, he shrugged off his jacket and laid it around her shoulders. “Sit over there and finish the whole bottle.”

“I don’t think it will take you that long to move a rock.”

“Not only moving it.” He pulled some rope and several other items from the backpack.

As he spread the items on the ground and gathered some thick branches, she realized his plan. “You’re going to seal us in.”

He didn’t waste more than a second for a glance before he bent to moving the rock, tying the branches, and wedging them to hold the rock from the black hole it covered—barely. A stiff wind would snap those branches and slap the rock back into place. “It won’t keep seasoned trackers from finding our trail, but I’m not sure your—Gauthier trained his men all that well.”

No. He was right. None of the enforcers ever came inside these caves. They preferred the sunlight and scared, easy prey.

“Ready?” He waved her over.

Not really, though he looked oddly pale, and for some reason, she felt his aversion to the caves might be worse than her own. After they’d made their way into the tunnel’s entry and Breslin shone a light around them, he pulled his ropes.

A deep, grinding noise hit them before a cloud of dust and dirt covered them. She coughed and waved at the particles floating in front of her. “Now we have no choice but to head on.”

“Can’t imagine how you did this more than once,” Breslin choked out behind her. “I always thought nothing could induce me to try this again.”

“Traditionally, women are seen as the weaker sex, but we handle uncertainty better.” She laughed, and then a tiny touch of spite hit her. “Even your Brindy would be reluctant to try this twice.”

“Hard to say,” he responded, sounding more cheerful. “She’s a fox.”

“Are all men obsessed with sex and beauty?” She ground out, not pleased having the barbs of her insult rebounded back to her. Probably what she deserved for judging a woman she’d never met. But the thought of him with another woman activated a malicious streak in her. Something she’d never experienced. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. I’m sure your—well, whatever she is—is plenty capable.”

He grabbed her elbow, pulled her to a stop, and raised his eyebrows. “Black nose. Red fur. Big tail with a black ring and white tip. Fox shifter and fox holes,” he added with a wave of the flashlight around them.

He stopped and bent down until his lips were touching hers and inhaled as if tasting her. “And she’s not—we’re not.”

Butterflies spun in her stomach. He moved a fraction back and tilted his head. “She’s our pilot and tech geek. Knows everything. But not my type.”

That shouldn’t make her heart race, yet it thundered like a marching drum. “You have a type?”

“It seems I do.” He actually rubbed his nose along the tip of hers until she started to lean into the caress. Then he pulled away and turned, checking out the interior. “How do you know these caves so well?”

“I spent a lot of time here,” she said, collecting her wits. It would seem her answer wasn’t good enough, since he twisted back and blocked her from progressing in the tunnel.

“I could show you how well I know them if you don’t believe me,” she added, motioning him to move aside with her forefinger. “Point out the spots of interest.” Like some freaking tour, the horror of her adolescence replayed in annotated Technicolor.

He remained silent. “Believing you isn’t the issue. I want to know why the female offspring of an alpha would spend any time here. Much less be familiar enough with them that she can lead me to the other side.”

She swallowed back a curse. Fine. It wasn’t as if she had any pride left. What little she’d once possessed, the alpha’s team had beaten out of her and torn into little bits as they ignored her existence.

“Our alpha’s idea of entertainment was to put young half-breeds in these caves and see if they survived. If the rock was rolled away after three days and they were still alive—he let them find their way home.”

Uncertain of his response, she looked over at him. A pinched white ring circled his tight lips, but at least he didn’t question her story. Yep, life was worse than fiction.

“You’ve confirmed what I already knew. Your father was a purebred asshole. But why did he send you here? You’re his heir. By all rights, you should be the new alpha.”

“I don’t want anything that belonged to him. Ever.” On top of that, her time spent here was the last thing she wanted to remember, much less revisit aloud. No, make that the second to the last. But darkness and isolation did funny things to people. It built a strange bubble of dependency and trust. Illusions, certainly, not that knowing reality from the illusion helped.

“Why were you left here?” he repeated more softly.

“Because I wasn’t a son.” As simple as that, or as difficult, given how young she was when she’d first survived these dark tunnels. She’d been a child. The few dreams she harbored of paternal love and acceptance died brutally while she fought to survive in the trails beneath the Rocky Mountains.

They didn’t die slowly. No, her father killed them as swiftly as if he’d taken a gun to her heart. His command she be buried alive in the way of those of the clan he despised the most made certain she understood his disdain for her.

“At least that was his initial reason,” she said. “Once I realized I could survive here and that the enforcers feared these holes, I’ll admit I pushed Karndottir’s buttons just to see if he’d punish me by putting me back.”

“Not much of a punishment, since you turned it to your advantage.” He sounded pleased with her success, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. Darn if he wasn’t smiling. A devilish smile. One she took as encouragement.

She shook off the brief surge of pleasure at his appreciation. Being sentenced to blackout for days wasn’t a point of pride with her. Especially since no one else had been repeatedly punished. But her small rebellions of learning to read, finding half-breed and human friends, and later her stubbornness irritated the alpha. For a man desperately grounded in dominance by the fist and claw, he’d developed sadistic ways of physical and emotional torture. Granted, he’d never raised his hand to her himself. He saved that right for every other male on his team.

“Did the other purebreds get a pass on the caves?” Breslin asked too quietly.

She ignored the deepening chill of his anger. “If you call running the gauntlet leading into our sanctuary the day after your first shift a pass, then sure. The alpha’s team monitored the run for two miles. Male shifters only had to survive. That determined their worthiness for a future on the team, or any future. The females—”

She took a slow breath through the ache in her chest and braced herself with her good hand against the rock to climb over some rubble. She startled as Breslin’s hands slid around her waist. He lifted her past the rocks onto even ground. Instead of releasing her, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms gently around her.

“Rest a minute. You’ll get your second wind.” His breath teased against her ear. A delicious shiver ran through her as he pressed his lips there. A second only and they were gone.

But he still held her, and it was enough. Enough to make her heart skip a beat and her spirits lift. “You mean my third or fourth wind. Not sure that’s going to be enough to make it.”

He grunted, but she could feel the rumble of his purr against her cheek before he dropped his arms and backed away. “You’ll make it. What about the females?”

Ah yes, he wanted more of her clan’s history. Maybe the telling would scour the thoughts clean and she could leave the past here in the dark where it belonged. “My mother and I didn’t live with my father after I was about six. But until I got my period at sixteen, she made me memorize one thing. Don’t ever shift if you’re being chased. Since I was considered a woman at that point, I was taken by the enforcers to participate in the run.”

She heard Breslin stop again and turned around.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t shift,” he said. “All your power comes from your beast.”

“In my clan, females are claimed in their animal form.” She gripped herself tighter and shook her head. “I don’t know Karndottir’s logic. But I only had to see one girl tackled to the ground and mounted in her wolf form to understand my mother’s warning.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“We lived in our own version of the Dark Ages. Still do.” She started back on the path. “What I witnessed convinced me my mother was right. I ran the entire gauntlet in my human form.”

He was silent after that for so long, she checked over her shoulder to make sure he was still there.

“Is that how you got the scars on your back?”

Swallowing hard, she held out a hand for another water bottle. She didn’t think he’d seen those. He dropped into a crouch and waved for her to sit. As if he hadn’t asked the question, he handed her a bottle, set out a small lantern, and started unpacking food.

“No.” With a shake of her head, she dug into a batch of meatloaf with trimmings piled on top. If he kept feeding her like this, she’d start to consider the tribunal worthwhile. But she knew he hadn’t forgotten his question and was merely biding time to ask again.

“I have to admit that it’s a little out of my personal comfort zone that you’ve seen the marks on my body.”

He crawled across the tunnel to her and sat close enough she felt the heat of his thigh through his jeans where it pressed against her leg. He reached over her and confiscated her empty box. After he’d placed it back in the backpack, he remained with his palm on her knee. “You’re a shifter. Nakedness shouldn’t matter. But they were impossible for me to avoid seeing. You were barely breathing when I first drove you from the compound. I searched for injuries. Now explain the scars.”

A lightness entered his voice, one that didn’t match the intensity in his steel-gray eyes. A trick of the small lantern that he’d attached to the backpack, perhaps, but she doubted it. Her vision was excellent in the dark, as she’d mentioned to him. One of the few remaining animal traits she still controlled.

“Sharing my past isn’t necessary for us to get out of these caves.”

A deep rumble echoed, and she winced as his hold on her tightened. He swore quickly, releasing her, but the damage was done. All lightness between them fractured and, like dust, dissipated.

“A deal, then?” he asked, standing and holding out his hand for hers. “We have hours yet to go. I doubt there’s any way whatever you will say is something that could hurt you now, so there’s little harm in telling me. But—” He raised a hand, anticipating her rejection. “You tell me this and why you don’t shift now, and I’ll answer any question you want.”

“Anything.” Tempting, for he was a legend. The boogieman come to life in shifter form, with a history so notorious for cold, hard justice that rumor of him bled across all the territories. Yet here he was, seemingly docile, even pleasant. And pledged as the second-in-command to one of the most influential alphas on the worldwide board of fourteen positions.

What did it take to earn the oath of such a man? She could only dream of such a feat. No doubt Deacon Black must be pretty pleased with reining in such a prize for his personal team. “All right. But I get to ask anything I want.”

“Deal.”

“And you have to go first,” she said.

His brow rose at that, then he shrugged and waved her forward. She held her ground.

“Fine. Ask. Then you will tell me why you haven’t shifted in order to heal.”

“Tell me why you became an assassin and then Deacon Black’s second?”

He didn’t even blink for a second, and a frigid chill emanated from his stillness. She thought for a moment he wouldn’t answer, but he blinked and focused on her. “Technically, that’s two questions.”

With a need born of recklessness and fine-honed instinct, she persisted. The answers mattered to her and to the beast inside her that whispered for freedom. “Something tells me they’re connected. Besides, you’ve asked two as well.”

He spun her around and, with a firm, warm hand at her back, urged her forward. Disappointed, she figured he was reneging on the deal. Perhaps after a few more hours, she could renegotiate.

“At thirteen, I crossed the territory line to kill your father.”

* * *

Breslin almost ran into Rayven when she stopped and spun around. “What had he done?”

What pleased him most was her total lack of judgment as to whether her father deserved the fate he’d planned. After everything she’d already shared, he suspected Gauthier’s crimes against Breslin’s family barely scratched the surface of what he subjected others to.

“He knew my mother had given my father five sons and that my family lived outside the sanctuary boundary. He crossed the territory line to abduct her as a breeder.”

Rayven’s mouth dropped open. She blinked, seemingly frozen as she examined his expression. “Why do I know there’s more?” she whispered.

“When she fought him, he beat her. But she wouldn’t give in, and he didn’t stop until she lay in a heap on our front porch. My four older brothers tried to help her by jumping on his back and clawing at him. They were all under the age of twelve. The oldest twins did the most damage. But he grabbed them and pummeled them into the side of the house as if they were rugs being cleaned of dust.”

“Breslin.”

He didn’t spare Rayven a glance. To be fair, he couldn’t snap the tentacle locking him to the past. It held his heart in a clench so tight, he couldn’t breathe. “He dragged my mother and the oldest into the cabin, tossed the others in afterward. Then he barred the front door of our cabin with firewood my father had chopped the week before, lit a match, and left.”

Rayven crouched suddenly, bringing him back to the present. He barely had time to brace her as she dry-heaved at the side of the tunnel.

“I should have refused this deal with you,” he said softly. He shrugged the backpack off and scrounged for another bottle of water.

“No. I…” She sighed, and when he pulled her against him, she sagged like a rag doll. He didn’t anticipate her next move. He should have. She twisted in his arms and stared at him.

“You know what happened. And not because someone told you, did they?” She waved her hand away from him. “You saw this and survived.”

“Survived? I lost everyone and fucking came out scarred and damaged, with a vengeful soul.” He stood again and hauled her up with him, shoving the new water bottle into her hands before he stalked down the tunnel.

“Left,” she yelled after him.

Confused, he turned back. She waved a hand to where the tunnel split. “Go left. But first, tell me how old were you? With several older brothers, you’d have been, what? Seven?”

He inhaled, grabbed the pack, and strode ahead where she’d indicated. “Four years, six months, and two days.”

“Breslin, wait. I can’t move that fast.”

Slamming to a halt, he felt her collide against him. Her heat fractured the sickening cold that numbed his extremities and brought on a rush of dissonance inside his eardrums.

She brushed her hand down his arm. The touch, her touch, anchored him as nothing had since that day. “We need some new rules for the deal,” she muttered and moved beside him.

He glared down at her. As usual, she appeared unaffected by his foul mood and instead raised a finger toward his face and gestured between them.

“This sharing deal doesn’t mean you can just run off. Don’t suddenly treat me like I don’t have a brain in my head either.” Lips pursed, she glared at him.

Surprised, he cocked his head at her and leaned closer. “I’m not treating you like anything.”

“Correct. You’re treating me like I don’t exist. Which is unfair since this was my question.”

“Ms. Judge-and-jury.”

“I’m not judging you.” When he didn’t respond, she huffed. “I’ll be the impartial person here.”

“Impartial! You’re his daughter.”

An expression flitted across her face, and he instantly wished he could roll back the words. Damn. Now he was the one hurting her. This was wrong. Telling her was wrong. Ever admitting to himself that he wanted his mate and she mattered to him was wrong. He wasn’t worthy of her, and she didn’t deserve to be stuck with someone like him.

“You do want me dead. That’s why you came to pick me up for the tribunal. To make sure I pay for my father’s actions.”

He could see the damp sheen in her eyes. At least before she gritted her teeth and bowed her head so he couldn’t see her face, pulling herself into a tighter coil. Her pain wounded him, but he at least deserved this and more, because she didn’t know how hard he’d worked to purge his soul of goodness. That she’d finally acknowledge Gauthier as her father and not some nameless title said everything about how much he’d hurt her.

“I’m very good at the jobs Deacon assigns me. I’ve been his assassin, his ghost, the shadow no one sees coming—the lone wolf on the team as long as I’ve existed.” She angled her face as her mouth moved. A bit heartened, he continued. “I’ve killed for him. Granted, he always chose the marks, though he left the final assessment of the target’s guilt and whether they deserved execution to me. My hand ended their lives.”

“So Deacon holds no blame for their deaths?”

“There is no blame for ending the life of a serial killer or a child molester or a feral shifter. I carry the weight of the deaths I’ve caused.”

“Promise me you’ll kill me face-to-face and not with a knife in my back.” Her chin lifted with her visible swallow, and she stared him straight in the eyes as if challenging him.

Amazed that she could believe he’d do that to her, he paused. After all she’d endured, she remained incredibly strong.

He raised a hand to his head and closed his eyes. “No. Well, yes.” With a slow inhale, he opened his eyes. He grasped her chin with his fingers so she could find the proof in his face. “Until I actually saw you and experienced the woman you really are, I had a one-way ticket to hell. But as bitter as I may be, I know an innocent person when I see one. I’ve also never left a victim to their enemies. I’m not about to start with you—you deserve more. Much more, Rayven.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he knew he wasn’t clear of hell yet. “What you’re implying is that I’m not enough of a villain for you to vent your anger against my father on me. Yet on the other hand, you consider me, what? Too naïve or just not smart enough to offer a different perspective about your story.”

“Ah…” She was good. He had to hand it to her. “All right. I admit my family’s death is not a good topic for me. With all other skills, I have practice. This sharing…is new.”

“I hope you never have practice dealing with these kinds of emotions again,” she responded vehemently. Gripping his arm, she moved closer. “My point was that you were very young.”

She canted her head and slid a side-glance his way as if he wasn’t already hanging on every word, though he’d become obsessed with rubbing his thumb over her lower lip. “Young children are notoriously bad at estimating their abilities. They all believe they rank in the top echelons as superheroes. They believe they can fly. I knew a child who got the bright idea that setting off an explosion in a coffee can while standing on a board on top was a good way to fly off the roof. Luckily, it only resulted in a few broken bones but that’s oversimplified kid logic.”

Superhero? No. He dropped his hand and backed away.

He’d only wished for the traits of his birthright. A cougar with power, strength, and speed, combined in a man who could control his beast with enough force to cripple and destroy an alpha. Of course, as she’d succinctly pointed out—he’d been a child. “I did nothing.”

“While you witnessed your mother and your brothers doing everything.”

Right or not, regrets and guilt had worked their way into the very fabric of his being for all the decades of his life. Rational discussion didn’t make his inner child accept being the sole survivor any more now than it had when he was four. It wasn’t as if no one else had tried to walk him down this road of understanding. He refused to engage with them.

She squeezed his arm. “The mothers I’ve dealt with who had children kidnapped were all prepared to trade their lives for that of their child. In a heartbeat. No debate involved.”

But Rayven did have a way of delivering that no one else ever had.

The she whispered, “I’m sure the mother you loved so much would feel the same.”

Swallowing got hard, or maybe it was the effort to look backward with something other than the eyes of a child that clogged him up inside. He wasn’t sure which. Frankly, he’d never gotten this far about this topic with anyone else, much less honest self-evaluation. Unless conversations came with weapons or a defensive maneuver, he wasn’t interested.

“Where were you?”

He stretched his neck as they entered a large cave and distracted himself by checking the perimeter.

“Breslin.”

“Up a tree.”

She continued walking and nodded, as if everything made sense. “Learning?”

“What?”

“How to climb,” she added. “But you couldn’t get down yet.”

“Something like that.”

“And what happened in your clan between the years your family was murdered and your failed attempt on my father?”

They’d entered another tunnel, the striations of rock showing a fault line break. The discussion still verged on unpleasant, but at least the tight pressure in his chest had eased at her light approach. “I’m not sure I’m liking your tone, Ms. Karndottir.”

“That was my practical assessment, not a judgment on your lack of success in killing him. Since you ended up crawling through these caves at thirteen, you obviously failed. But that’s not the point. You don’t strike me as someone, even as a kid, who wouldn’t have tried to get help.” She moved before him as the path narrowed. “Did anyone in your clan attempt justice for you during those years?”

Why did everything sound simple coming from her lips? Oh, right, because living the story and listening to the story were two different things. He almost said as much until he remembered why they’d begun this deal. To find out why she bore scars on her back. Scars that should have healed were she leveraging her beast. Scars that warned him she was more fragile than she let on.

“Two days afterward, my alpha’s team found my father’s body at the border. It turns out that he’d been murdered before my mother,” he added before she could ask. “Alpha King promised he’d take care of Gauthier.”

She glanced back with a frown.

Pale again, she nodded and turned back. “I’m guessing your alpha didn’t exact revenge to your satisfaction.”

“Deacon’s father didn’t exact revenge to anyone’s satisfaction. And my family consisted of purebred cougars, not wolves. Our deaths didn’t rate war or conflicts.”

“So as a youth, you took matters into your own hands.”

Thinking back on it, even he had to admit it had been a stupid plan. “I was caught by Karndottir enforcers just over the territory edge. They beat me within an inch of my life, probably thought I was dead, then tossed me behind the stone into the tunnel.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “I’d forgotten about the stone, actually.”

“You’d never have seen it if you were unconscious.”

Good point.

“Which brings up the question of how you got out.” Taking a drag of the water, she stopped and leaned against the tunnel wall.

He braced a hand over her head. “Ever heard of Vendrick Harbard?”

Her laugh startled him, then she stopped and bit her lower lip. “You’re kidding, right? One of the Old Ones.” She added air quotes and then paused. “One of the fathers of our species. He’s a myth. A fairy tale, as in…fairies and vampires?”

“Bet you thought Ghost was a myth too,” he said, trying for a smirk. She only raised her brow in response. “And I don’t know about vampires, but I think fairy folk might be real, and I know witches exist.”

Pointing the water bottle at him, she pursed her lips. “You’re definitely no myth.” She took a strained breath and pulled his jacket tighter around her body.

“Cold?” Sliding one arm behind her back, he dragged her against him. Even as she shook her head in denial, she relaxed and laid her cheek on his chest. Unable to resist, he nuzzled her bare neck. She stilled against him but didn’t move. Encouraged, he kissed her there.

Her gasp echoed. Yet instead of jumping back, she raised her head. It was all the invitation he needed before he closed his lips over hers. A lick across the seam and she opened for him, yet instead of diving in, he savored and sipped. And tasted the unique honeyed sweetness of the woman meant to be his only other half. Tongues tentatively teasing, they stood there.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. The longer they stayed beneath the mountains, the longer it would take before Deacon found a way to halt the tribunal.

With her eyes still closed, she stayed in his arms. “You confuse me, Breslin Taggart. One minute, you’re more beast than human. And the next—”

“Are you saying you like me?”

Patting his chest, she moved backward. “This isn’t grade school. Not that I went to grade school. But I’ve heard about it. However, you’re growing on me.” Less bright-eyed than she was an hour ago, she spun slowly and continued down the path. “So, Vendrick.”

Right, the story. “He found me in time and made me a deal.”

She held up her hand. “Let me guess. The Old One offered you the wisdom of the ages and turned you into a silent ninja killer. At his command, you perform deeds heinous enough they are now legend.”

He held back a laugh, though his chest hurt again. Her humor attempted a light recounting of years that he’d spent killing people. Granted, not good people, but still. “Something like that. Except learning the wisdom of the ages took more like decades. First, he dragged me across states, countries, and territories. Then I was sent on missions until one day I—well. Let’s say I’d finally had enough.”

“Details?”

“No. That was a story in and of itself. But I met a couple fleeing from your father on my last mission and killed one of his many enforcers to save them.”

“Ah, the dozen or more brutes he enticed to do his bidding. What did graduation from Old One’s training look like? A Swiss bank account? Penthouse suite? Hideaway island?”

She’d gone so far off the grid from the truth, he suspected she knew the real answer. To add a little salt to his own wound of not realizing his fate sooner, he asked. “What do you think happened?”

Slowing to a halt, she waited for him but didn’t turn around. “Do you really want to know what I think?”

“You’re impartial,” he replied and grasped one of her shoulders lightly. “How do you already know?”

With a nod, she turned and held his gaze. “He sent you to Deacon. Where you found out that it was your new alpha who had saved you.”

Damn, she was so spot-on he couldn’t breathe. No response was necessary.

“So your life on the lam was really about training. All the deaths, every last one, were alpha-sanctioned kills.”

Numb, he just waited.

She shrugged as her gaze flickered over his face, her emotions open and honest enough his cat sighed with relief. “It’s what I would have done if I had someone to protect who was hell-bent on destroying themselves. Still. That’s a hard life and an awful burden to carry. How did Deacon earn your loyalty?”

Earn, not claim, she’d said, and just like that, he knew he was screwed. She would figure this out too quickly for him to apologize or explain. These few minutes of oneness and shared camaraderie were all he’d have. Served him right. He should have listened to Callum.

“Breslin?” She stepped away again, and he didn’t try to bring her back.

“He promised me another way to get Gauthier, more training.” Hell, now he couldn’t breathe, for he could see realization dawning on her face. But he had to tell her. This was his penance, to lose everything.

“What training?” she asked. Her voice had dropped a level from soft security to raw, harsh premonition.

If he could hold the image of her happy after their kiss for the rest of his life and never remember the horror as she looked at him now, he’d die happy. Immediately. But he couldn’t undo his deeds. He’d already learned that lesson.

After all the truths between them, he couldn’t lie to her now. He deserved her disdain after all. Better to rip the bandage off quickly.

“He taught me how to read financial reports and investigate businesses. How I could find chinks and weaknesses to bring Gauthier down.”

Her breath almost wheezed in her throat, and she turned even paler. “By sabotaging the financial holdings that kept my clan afloat. You were destroying the businesses that support my people?”

“Yes.”

* * *

“You ruthless, coldhearted coward!” She whirled back and marched down the tunnel, heedless of where she was going. Bastard. Her instincts were on autopilot from having raced through these paths for years. Still something nagged at her as she picked up speed and charged away from him.

“You should have killed me instead,” she screamed. Her heart was shredded into ragged, painful bits, but worse, she was furious with herself for wanting him to be hers. Devastated that in such a short time, he’d wormed his way into a place where she’d been certain no one could. “My bloodline would die, and you’d have your revenge. But my clan would at least have survived.”

“Rayven, slow down.” His footsteps stomped close behind her, but she didn’t pause. “We had an agreement about not running off. Or do your rules only apply to me?”

She raced around a tight corner and kept going. His words barely penetrated her angry haze, but she caught them. Darn it, she hated when someone countered back with logic. That rarely happened. Her clan operated on deceit, denial, and subterfuge, not to mention she didn’t usually fight with her team, until today. Until he’d entered her life.

Why should she treat him with consideration? He’d openly admitted his plan. Targeting her people. They’d never done anything to him. He’d targeted innocent people out of revenge. Out of spite.

Well, maybe not spite. She considered spite petty. Having your whole family—mother, father, siblings destroyed—likely flipped his internal switch way past spite and directly into cold, calculated retribution. Still, she wasn’t ready to talk to him.

Her breaths came faster as she tried to distance herself from him.

No wonder the sawmills were closing and the coal mine had lost its main distributor to a competing company.

“Rayven. I won’t blame you for leaving me in this godforsaken place, but at least let me explain.”

And Alpha Deacon Black—the one she was supposed to trust—had set him on this path to destroy her clan. Why did that bother her so much? Because Deacon wasn’t supposed to be a maniacal alpha. Rumors claimed Breslin’s alpha accepted purebreds, half-breeds, and humans into his clan with equal status. Why would he allow her people to become targets for destruction? It seemed grossly out of character.

Still, she didn’t break her stride. Where her burst of energy was coming from, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t about to question the gift.

She couldn’t believe how she’d silently applauded Deacon’s approach for keeping a thirteen-year-old suicide victim alive. The alpha was smart, but devious, and farsighted.

He wasn’t supposed to be the sort of man who destroyed other people’s livelihoods without good reason. Like taking over Karndottir’s territory? As quickly as it popped into her head, she discounted the excuse, even if it did make sense. She was angry and shunning rational thought.

Unfortunately, as she rounded the next corner, the reason why she shouldn’t be running through this section of tunnel struck her.

Her foot slipped. She dragged it back from the edge of nothingness just in time, skidding to a stop in panic. Too late, the nagging bit of information she couldn’t recall flooded her memory. Despite her enhanced vision, the darkness played tricks. The rock rising and falling hid surprises now and in the past.

“Breslin—” She whipped back in time to see him running toward her, and then he slipped sideways. Shock and terror contorted his features as he disappeared over the edge.

She’d lunged as soon as she saw him, managing a flimsy grasp on the collar of his shirt. “Please. Don’t move.”

“I’m too heavy for you.” He dangled, unable to find a handhold or foothold on the slick rock face. “Damn, it’s smooth.”

He tried to swing closer, and she lurched with his movement. He froze and blinked, no doubt calculating his odds.

At best, they were awful.

With another swipe, he tried for a narrow crevice in the sheer wall. His fingers scraped with a rasping sound that swirled around them. She strained to hold him, her muscles on fire as the seconds drew out, his weight more like a several-ton elephant than a lean-muscled cougar.

Her heart stopped as she realized he wasn’t moving, only looking up at her. “Rayven. This isn’t going to work.”

“Yes. It will.” She couldn’t believe she was the only thing holding him, but strength was another good shifter asset. One she believed her bear had finally kicked in with, since it seemed to like Breslin’s presence and almost acknowledged her with him around, whether he’d destroyed the clan or not.

“When I tell you, let go.” His deep voice echoed softly. “It’ll be okay.”

Do not make me cry. Again. “Try harder and don’t be a jerk.”

He reached again, then scanned the rock face toward the ledge.

Furious, she yelled at him, “You can’t leave me now.”

“Rayven. Three.”

“You don’t get to piss me off and leave.”

A soft growl bubbled out of his throat. “Two.”

“That’s it,” she spat as she reached, prepared to grasp his fur with her injured arm. “Stick around to fight me like a man. You don’t get to matter and leave!”

“Now, Rayven.” Fur tingled against her fingertips, and she clenched tight. Cloth disappeared from her other hand, and she grabbled to get a two-handed hold. “One. Let go.”

No way. “Please. Please! Don’t leave me like this.”

Tears streamed down her face as the man turning into cat in her hold struggled to dig his claws into the rock He only scraped without purchase. She bent her weight back, screaming for her beast to help and haul his scruff with her. It wasn’t enough. A tickle of power rippled through her, yet it felt like fighting against an outgoing tide. She couldn’t latch on. “We can work this out.”

He twisted again, the angle tearing at the already torn flesh of her shoulder. She screamed but didn’t let go.

One long, high-pitched sound reverberated off the rocks around her. Then another. And another. Muscles and fur bunched beneath her grip. Before she could anticipate it, a punch snapped her backward. Her head collided with rock, and a fireball of pain burst over her as her vision wavered. She rolled to her side. In desperation, she clenched her empty fists, not wanting to see. No fur. No shirt. “Noooo.”

The loss hurt. Her entire body hurt. But as consciousness seeped back, so did the realization that he wasn’t going to answer back.

With a sob, Rayven dug her fingers into the dirt beside her. Wound into a tight ball of misery, it took her a few minutes to notice the way her body swayed back and forth.

Crying didn’t make her move. Not like that.

Heck, what was at her back. Stretching for a look pulled a painful gasp from her throat. A golden furred head rubbed against her cheek as she flopped onto her back on the ground.

“You?” She sighed and tried to roll upright. However, her brief surge of energy was gone. Muscles not only refused to work, but she felt drained enough they were almost numb. She barely had enough energy to keep her eyes open. “Are you real?”

A wet tongue gently licked her neck. Nothing convinced like a sloppy, wet kiss. Still, she might be in denial. Trying to push upright kicked that question aside. Pain lanced through her, and a high-pitched sound hurt her eardrums.

She opened one eye and found the cougar’s head, ears flat against its skull, rubbing against her stomach. Must not have liked her screaming.

“Breslin?” she rasped, her throat thick and raw.

The cougar raised his head, moved muzzle-to-nose with her.

“Why aren’t you shifting?” she asked.

He dipped his head back to the ground and then slid a glance toward the tunnel.

“I didn’t mean for you to fall. I forgot that was where the path dropped off into the chasm.”

He shook his head, and she rolled slowly onto her stomach, cringing as her injured arm ended up beneath her. “This isn’t going to go well.”

Big kitty padded slowly around her body and nudged her better arm. When she didn’t move, he clasped her shoulder gently in his teeth and tugged.

She shot him a look. “Really. Bossy even in this form?”

He eyed her without as much as a twitch of his whiskers.

“Give me a few minutes. A catnap maybe.” Her eyelids fluttered closed, but she opened them again at an insistent nudge in the middle of her back. “Fine. We’ll try it your way.”

Unfortunately, that way proved to be crawling, since her head spun and everything went out of focus when she tried to stand. The cat paced, rubbing against her hips and sniffing at her back. Frustrated, she flopped back on her side. “Will you stop that? Just because I don’t want you dead doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you. So, no sniffing privileges.”

With a snort, he lay down beside her and licked her hand. When she didn’t respond, he swatted her ass with his thick tail.

“Now what?”

He gave another tug on her good wrist.

“I’m tired. But if you keep going straight and take—hmm, two lefts, a right—” Or was it another left. Darn it. She knew the trail by instinct, but not well enough to risk reciting it for him. Not after what they’d both just survived. Yet her body ached and her heart hurt from the rawness he exposed of his life and his fury.

He shuffled his body sideways until she was wedged between him and the wall.

“If you think having me crawl over you is funny, then I’m going to find a way to shower you with fleas. You’re bigger than a small car, and I’m not up for more broken bones.”

But he shuffled more and wedged her tighter.

“Stop it.” She grabbed the fur on his neck and hoisted a leg over him, planning on sliding over him to the other side, when he suddenly rose before she finished her move. She grabbed tighter at the fur and gripped with her knees to keep from falling, waiting to see what he’d do. He rolled his head around to look at her, and it finally hit home. “You’re my ride?”

His grumble tickled along her skin, then he faced forward again and started pacing ever so slowly down the tunnel.