Breslin’s boots ate up the distance between the prairie grass to the thick scrub and tall pines up the hill. He didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing whether he should have handed off Hazel with the enforcers heading to cut Nathan and the others off before they cleared the area. But his gut told him that if the child in his arms shifted forever into her rabbit form, her life would be short. Unable to interact with other shifter children and at risk of being mistaken as a true rabbit, she’d have insufficient options for defending herself and rank low on the food chain as well, making her prey for every wild animal around. Better that he put her at a smaller risk now with him and save her future as a shifter, than condemn her to an unthinkable life. It didn’t sound any better when he played it over again in his mind, though he had little choice.

If he made it deep into the conifers and the thick underbrush, he could hide her somewhere beside the rushing stream he heard. On the off chance that they became trapped by the wildfire, at least he’d have her near water.

Breslin slowed and traipsed through the trees, lifting Hazel so she couldn’t look away. “I have to stop these men, and I can’t do that holding you. We need to make another deal.”

She clutched his shirt tighter.

“I’m not leaving you. You’ll be my lookout. Somewhere close but safe.” He ducked beneath a low-hanging limb and headed for moss lining the low ridge ahead. Ash fluttered in the air along with clouds of smoke and the telltale crackle of fire. His ears picked up the rustle and yips of small creatures scampering for freedom.

Damn. The wind must have shifted again. An advantage if he were fighting alone, with the freedom to move wide and taunt his attackers. For now, he needed to find a single, closed-in location that allowed him to defend himself and limit attackers. Reaching the stream, he crouched and set Hazel beside him. He ripped his shirt over his head and dunked it in the water, soaking it until the plaid colors turned dark and unrecognizable from the saturation.

“Sniff,” he instructed her as he raised his nose in the air in example. When she scrunched her nose, he pointed upwind. “That’s smoke from fire. Normally, we run from fire. But I’m going to cover you with my shirt to keep you safe, and we’ll find a secret place for you to watch until we can leave.”

She didn’t respond and continued to stare at him with disturbingly trusting pools of baby blue. Muscles tightened around his lungs, and he fought that unfamiliar sense of a new bond. Hell, just when he’d located Nathan and delivered him for Rayven’s acquittal, Breslin had bound himself to another innocent victim of Gauthier’s negligence.

“I promised I’m not leaving you, but for the new part of our new deal, I need you to stay quiet while I fight these men. No matter what.” He placed his hand over the phone still hanging on the chain around her neck. “I don’t want them to know you’re here. No matter how scared you get. Can you do that?”

With a frown, she nodded. She didn’t even whimper as he draped the wet shirt over her, looping the collar over her head and buttoning it until only her face showed through the hole. He tied the arms in front of her and the bottom tails around her feet until she was one wet toddler bundle. Not impervious to smoke and fire, but a bit resistant.

She ducked her face into the cloth and sniffed, then rubbed her cheek there as if imprinting his scent on her skin. His heart skipped a beat.

Well, whatever it took to make her feel comfortable, for the icy prickles traveling down his spine warned him of a hard battle ahead. No easily dispatched human mercenaries headed his way.

Shrugging off the tension in his shoulders, he focused instead on the area he’d chosen to make his stand. A narrow spit of land between a steep slope on one side and the waist-high and several-yard-wide stream on the other. An old tight copse of trees claimed the slope, their exposed roots running from the ridge to the creek like gangly arms.

After a quick shift, he turned his cat toward those open roots and paced before each, dipping his head inside and assessing the best hiding spot. Finding one halfway up the slope that satisfied both a closeness to the water and a good view for Hazel, he dug his claws in a furious motion, creating a child-sized hollow large enough for her to wiggle in and turn around. He did the same beneath several other trees to spread his scent and mislead any of the approaching enforcers.

Finished, he turned back to Hazel and shifted back into his human form, bothering only with jeans, then pointed toward the hole in question. Ultimately, this would only work if she agreed. And while his seasoned instincts hated that his success or failure might hinge on the capriciousness of a terrified child, so far, she’d proved herself a determined survivor. If they survived today, she’d be stronger for choosing without him bullying her.

Giving her time, he focused on the heavy scent of burning pinecones, dead tree limbs, and sweet sap. Layered within that fear-inducing char was the smell of more of Jacob’s team.

Breslin initially anticipated three shifters. From the multiple mixed scents and vibration beneath his bare feet from stampeding paws, it appeared, he’d have more like five or six to defeat. If he was lucky, the fire might make one or two reconsider whether it was worth sacrificing themselves for a man who didn’t even hold an alpha title.

No matter what they thought, Breslin now had a few surprises of his own.

He glanced back again at Hazel. From her knit brows, she seemed uncertain about his suggestion for her hidey-hole, but she met his gaze and gave him a tiny nod.

“That’s my brave girl.”

He scooped her up and tucked her deep beneath the roots and out of sight. He pulled a fallen limb from the creek, heavily laden with dripping leaves, and dragged it across the roots to cover the entrance. He crouched again, widening a space between the branches with his fingers so they could see each other. “Now remember. No matter how scary, don’t make a sound.”

A snarl broke from just over the ridge, barely leaving Breslin enough time to move back to his spot by the stream. The spit and flare from the fire eating its way from one dried tree limb to the next flickered at the edge of his view. Fifteen minutes. That was all he had to finish these losers and get Hazel out of the burning inferno to safety.

First one, then a second large wolf snout appeared over the side of the ridge. A third came into view several yards farther down the tree line. Dark bronze, nearly ruby, eyes glistened from all three with an intensity bordering on feral. But these wolf shifters couldn’t claim feral frenzy as the reason for their blood lust. Whether born with the need to abuse others or just unlucky enough to have an alpha like Gauthier who pushed all the right buttons, they’d become weak-minded and vicious creatures. And Breslin had listened carefully to all of Rayven’s history. As far as he was concerned, every enforcer in this territory had earned their despicable reputation by choice and deserved a hard death. He felt no sympathy for them, only cold-steeled rage.

The three wolves slinked down the slope toward him, choosing the age-old cowardice of a multi-person attack. He sensed more than saw the shadow of a large brown bear behind them on the ridge and a wolverine inching his way along the water’s edge.

In hindsight, he wished he’d left Hazel a blade. Not that he usually carried one, and who gave a toddler a weapon? But wolverines sported some wicked claws.

He spun slowly, taking in the wolves. He held out his hand palm up and curled his fingers, motioning them forward.

The closest wolf lunged across the ten-foot space for his neck, no doubt expecting a quick annihilation. Instead, Breslin delivered a swift half-formed cougar paw, fully equipped with razor-sharp claws along the wolf’s face and another set of claws down its chest, digging deep into the heart muscle. Wide-eyed shock reflected in the partially red-tinged eyes as the creature gargled its last breath and dropped like a stone. He felt a brief satisfaction at again experiencing his new power of partial shifting. He suspected the gift was tied to his connection with Rayven, a power she’d need as much as he did.

Breslin didn’t have time to verify the kill before the next two barreled into him. Not bothering to fight in human form, he twisted and shifted. Clamping his jaws around the spine of one wolf, he flailed it before him as a shield against the second. In the back of his mind, he counted the precious moments ticking by as the wolverine crept closer.

Moments he couldn’t spare. With a tight crunch, he crushed the spine of his victim and met the next wolf in midair. They swirled and landed hard by the tree roots. The wolf scrambled and kicked with its hind claws, gouging Breslin in the stomach. But another quick slash with his claws to the wolf’s hindquarters and a low-gutted hiss, and that attacker scuttled backward, dragging a worthless leg and giving his spot to the wolverine.

The bear landed with an uneasy thud beside the wolverine just as a flaming limb from above crashed behind them.

The remaining wolf whined and slunk away. Breslin paid him no mind, for the wolverine’s eyes were now fixed on Hazel’s hiding place.

A small explosion overhead sent more of the wildfire’s inferno showering about them. The bear stomped left and right, eyeing the fire and shaking sizzling debris off his fur. Breslin chose the distraction to spin and snap at the wolverine’s back. A calculated move with harsh consequences.

Pain exploded from Breslin’s neck, across his shoulder, and down his back in a white-hot sheet as claws ripped through his flesh.

Fucking bear. Breslin swiveled and flung the wolverine at the bear’s face. In a fury of squeals and hisses, claws and sharp teeth ripped into bear fur.

Same team or not, the bear clutched the wolverine to his chest, claws digging into the vicious creature. Even being outweighed ten to one, the wolverine still didn’t go down easy. The battle raged as the metallic scent of blood filled the small space, quickly drowned out by smoke.

Despite their orders to kill him, it seemed Jacob’s team held only the bitterest of contempt for one another. The bear looked victorious. And the wolverine, while not quite limp from its pathetic wounds, made no headway in getting free.

A point in Breslin’s favor, but he needed them both dead. Immediately.

His cat vaulted onto the bear’s back, sinking his teeth deep below the base of the skull behind the ear. His victim flung the wolverine high above the flaming ridgeline and turned, smashing Breslin’s back into the tree roots in an attempt to dislodge him.

Blistering spikes of fresh pain streaked through every nerve, and he could also hear a faint cry from the hidey-hole several feet away.

The bear twisted and fell to the ground, wiggling to free himself of his attacker.

Half-dazed from pain, Breslin refused to let go even as black and gray clouded his vision. He needed to save Hazel. Needed to look into Rayven’s violet eyes one more time. With that mere thought, he could almost sense her nearby, taste her instead of the acrid copper of the bear blood in his mouth.

Rayven. He needed more—time. Energy. Strength. His claws sank deeper into fur, but not enough to make a difference. If only he could force the bear to shift.

His enemy dragged them to the water’s edge, plunging Breslin beneath the water’s surface. Cold killed the jagged pain in his back, and now he couldn’t breathe.

Shift, damn it. Shift.

A ripple of power jolted through Breslin’s muscles and rattled through his brain, leaving him disoriented. But as the fur in his mouth changed to flesh, he used his last bit of oxygen to snap through the spine of the human now in his hold. The shifter went slack on top of him. Breslin thrashed and kicked it aside. Finally surfacing, he gasped for air.

Thick smoke entered his lungs instead as his cat shook his head.

Fire blazed around him, but he staggered from the water and pivoted toward Hazel’s hiding spot. The tree roots were already ablaze; only a few feet remained untouched. He stuck his maw into the hole and grasped the knots holding his shirt around Hazel, then backpedaled and tugged until the bundle was free of the hole.

When she didn’t move, he started to lower it to the ground, but her small hand shot out through an opening and grasped his fur. He gently grasped the knot with his teeth and stepped back.

Relief washed through him, quickly dispelled as more flaming debris rained around them. His cat growled softly, taking in fire with a deepening sense of panic. Shit.

A shift would speed up his healing, but he needed his cougar to navigate the unfamiliar woodland and firestorm. His multiple shifts had also drained his energy, and, at best, he had one more shift in him. He didn’t dare risk it until he had Hazel free of the flames.

Darting back to the water’s edge, he followed the serpentine flow that he thought went south. But fifteen minutes later, his energy was flagging and he was dizzy from blood loss. He barely had the strength to carry Hazel in her sling, much less drag one paw in front of the other.

Worse, he had no idea where he was. Without the sky or the breeze, he couldn’t decipher direction. The roar of flames blocked out sounds enough that even if his team were ten feet away, he wouldn’t hear them.

For the first time in his adult life, indecision wrapped its tentacles around him in a slick, icy clutch of panic.

It wasn’t that he feared death. Regret held him hostage. Not seeing Rayven go free and hearing her laugh, feeling her lips on his. Not having Hazel taste freedom and joy. All churned with the bile in his throat. The small child’s confidence in him shouldn’t have earned her this fate.

He stumbled, barely catching himself, and eyed the water ahead. Recently downed tree trunks covered the stream. He’d have to crawl through the narrow opening, and even then he wasn’t certain whether that wouldn’t take them into the heart of the flame or trap them beneath more debris.

The path to his left, just over the stream, still burned bright. To his right lay embers. What lay beyond could be either a stronger burn or a mosaic of untouched forest missed by the fire. He had no way to tell.

He closed his eyes, seeking a resurgence of the strange gift that had transformed the bear shifter for him. Nothing lay behind his mind’s eye except black. A tremor rocked beneath his paws, and he sidestepped in case it signaled a rush of flame or an unearthed tree breaking lose.

Despite his movement, the tremor grew stronger.

Breslin.

He whipped his head around and saw nothing. Yet everything inside him latched on to Rayven’s voice. He took another step toward the water, prepared to continue on his same course. The tremors under his feet returned, fainter.

Breslin.

Rayven? Heart pounding, he searched again. This time, Hazel tugged at his fur. When he glanced down, she stuck her other hand out, finger pointing toward his right.

Could she know? She was born in this territory. Too young to pledge, she was still vulnerable to the whims of the mantle. He paced that direction again, now sensing a steady, rhythmic beat to the tremors. Not a rumble or a warning, but a constant thrum. He shook his head, too weary and drained to make sense of anything.

But Hazel tugged again, and he followed her urging. They had a deal after all. With ears flattened to his skull, he dragged one paw after the other across the singed forest, cautiously making his way. What spun before him was an untouched trail that wound around the black spikes of torched tree trunks.

And still the vibration beneath his paws grew stronger.

A faint breeze blew across his nose. Was that fresh air? Just as quickly, more smoke clogged his nostrils.

Heartened if not quite convinced, he plodded on as he calculated how long they’d been out here. An hour? More?

Too long for his team to have waited.

Roughly five minutes later, he emerged from the forest into the tall prairie grasses. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that fire still raged behind him, but the wind was blowing it away from his position. He could now hear the grating beat of a jackhammer not too far away.

His abused muscles trembled and twitched. He gave in to the exhaustion weighing him down and sank to the ground with a huff. He nuzzled the knot of the shirt holding Hazel captive. However, she’d managed to undo several of the buttons and free herself. Too tired to do more than lie there, he snorted as she crawled against him and curled her arms around his neck.

Just a few minutes. That was all he needed. Then they’d move on. Yet the blood continued to seep from his wounds and a cold lethargy took hold. The option to shift for healing was now an impossibility. He’d waited too long, was too injured. The magic normally enabled by a switch to his alternate form had dissipated along with his strength.

Hazel curled against him, crying into his fur. His cougar rumbled, but the air in his lungs didn’t even produce a hiss.

Suddenly, a shadow blocked his view of the sky. He squinted as two more joined the person standing over him. Distinct, familiar scents tickled his senses. Unthreatening human. Coyote. Grizzly.

“Well, it’s about time, Breslin. I thought I’d need to round up some hotshots to go into the fire and drag your sorry hide out.”

A strong wave of power rippled over him, clean and fresh, and totally alpha. His skin tightened as healing rushed along his wound and energized his blood. Breslin drew in his first painless breath since the fight had begun and slowly shifted into human form. “Is Nathan safe?”

“The boy is already on the plane with Aubrey, Brindy, and the other children.”

He scooped Hazel into his arms, rolled onto his back, and looked up. “I don’t think Deacon would appreciate you risking your life for mine, Lena.”

Arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked, she gave him a soft smile in return. “He’d be the first to admit you’re worth the risk.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“May I ask you a question?” Rayven asked as she toyed with her coffee cup at the kitchen table.

Deacon’s mouth twitched as he sank into a chair across from her. “I’ve never noticed you hesitate before, so go right ahead.”

“How did the alpha—my father die?”

Dread knotted in Rayven’s stomach as Deacon remained silent for a moment. Part of her would be happy never to know, but she wasn’t a coward, and Karndottir was her father. A bastard, perhaps, though some part of her couldn’t have closure about their relationship without knowing. “It’s that bad?”

“I debated whether to tell you or not. The information will be presented during the tribunal. I think you should know what the other alphas have already been told at this point. In addition, we can go over the tribunal process and what you can expect.” His lips thinned in a tight line as he clasped his hands on the table. “A witness, an elderly female shifter in the clan, saw your father enter an apartment building, where his body was eventually found. This evidence deviates from the information first given to me when I learned of Gauthier’s death, so we’ll have to see what the investigators make of that. But he’d been seen there with a young woman several times before his death.”

Her eyes widened. Why had it never occurred to her that they had witnesses? Probably because knowing she hadn’t killed him, she hadn’t considered how it could have been orchestrated. But someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure that she was in custody with the proverbial noose around her neck. “Let me guess, her description matches mine.”

“That’s a given,” Deacon said.

“I can’t imagine anyone my age getting that close to him. He wasn’t charming.”

“You’re thinking from your viewpoint, not his.” He drew in a breath and shrugged. “He was an alpha with power and was found in bed—let’s just say with his guard down.”

She pushed back her chair and sprang up, clutching her arms around herself to stop the goose bumps rising along her skin. “Eww, disgusting. No one could possibly believe I’d do that with—no!”

“Certainly no one who’s ever met you. But I suspect he made visits to that apartment with other women. He either trusted this person or didn’t fear them. In spite of that, they caught him by surprise and shot him—silver bullets through the heart—then another dozen stab wounds.”

“No love lost there.” She wished the words back in her mouth the moment she’d said them, but fortunately, Deacon nodded.

“Exactly. The building supervisor found the body when he checked on water leaking from the running tub in the bathroom.”

She leaned against the wall and tilted her head back. “They wanted him found.”

“But to me, that makes the timing of the murder speculative.”

“I—” How to have this conversation. “I haven’t ever killed anyone. Without my bear, I avoided fights whenever possible. Don’t get me wrong, I can hold my own. Just not—well, it’s not my first or best option.”

He was silent for several long moments, his expression guarded. “As an alpha, that is something you need to get over—and quickly. You are the first defense, sometimes the last, between harm and your clan. Sometimes presenting your beast will be enough, but you have to be prepared to fight to the death every single time. To make an example of the worst offenders.”

Could she do that?

“Fortunately, whoever is behind this doesn’t seem to know your true nature. I also doubt they’ve considered what lengths my team would go to find proof of where you actually were at the time of the murder. Because of the details you’ve given Brindy, we isolated your whereabouts. Traffic cameras, satellite images, and other information. However, I expect complications. None of what we have will do us much good if we don’t have our own witness too.”

She was back to hurry up and wait. “Well, what next?”

“In addition to you increasing the speed for your shifting, we’ll to do some other training. I want you to work on your alpha senses: scenting emotional layers on others and letting your beast scrutinize people. For the rest of the day, I want you to focus on Callum, Shanae, Matthew, and Trevor. See what you can detect from them.”

“What about searching you?”

“You could try,” he said, frowning. “But with another alpha of my caliber, you should be actively shielding yourself. Attempting to read one of your peers, touching them with your magic, would be seen as a challenge by several of the board members. I discourage you from going down that path.”

“Yet they’ll get to scan me.”

“They will. They won’t see you as a peer, more like a lesser subject. Don’t let that rattle you. For now, we keep your powers low-key in front of the others.”

Right, subterfuge. She’d hidden in her clan for so long, she could certainly master the nuances of a calm and serene façade at the same time that she acclimated to her alpha powers. But the fact he wanted her to master fast shifts could only mean he expected her to have to fight.

“This is only until the tribunal is over. After that the decisions on who you scan and how are yours.”

Because then she’d either be dead or responsible for the well-being of all the people in her clan. “Brindy mentioned earlier that Callum had arrived with my package from the safety deposit box,” she added hopefully.

“The samples and data inside will be helpful to us once we locate the right scientist to work on reversing the problem, but there’s little or nothing in the packet that we can use to vindicate you. It proves you were in a warehouse with the chemicals—but that could be construed as good or bad. For now, I want to take you on a tour.” He stood and gestured toward the back door.

Once they were outside, he cut across the lawn toward a large stone structure just visible through a break in the trees.

“Where are we headed?”

“The structure houses the clan assembly hall and my council chambers, among other things. I’ll show you the layout. It’s used for large gatherings, though I have occasional alpha lieutenant meetings here as well. We’ll run through the tribunal agenda, and I’ll give you an overview of the rules and how I plan to approach the trial.”

Uneasy, she followed him up several wide stone steps, through massive double wooden doors that opened on an expansive entryway, and from there down into a cavernous room. If grass and boulders with a ceiling a hundred feet above them could be called a room. The space was divided roughly into three major sections: a lower level with four heavy wooden armchairs, another section to her left divided by a stone wall that housed nearly three dozen large flat boulders organized in pairs, and a third open grass section to her right.

“Why all the boulders?”

“Each of the other alphas is permitted to have their mates attend. Some will have their second-in-command or guards present. As to your next question, Vendrick holds the overriding, controlling position by himself. In a hung vote, he breaks any ties.”

“But the tribunal is missing an alpha.”

“Vendrick will vote for himself and Gauthier.”

That her life was in the hands of a man she never believed existed didn’t comfort her much. Of course, only if there was a tie. As if pulled by her thoughts, Breslin’s scent wafted from the jacket she wore, followed by a wave of calm. He knew Vendrick. Had been trained and protected by him. If he’d managed to win Vendrick’s support as an innocent youth, perhaps she stood a chance too.

Deacon strode down a serpentine trail to the lowest level and turned to face her. “The alphas will arrive first. When we come in you’ll be presented to each of them. Something very similar will happen to what you experienced with Alarico and Whit in my home. Except it will feel a thousand times more invasive, and they won’t bother to hide their power.”

The power emitted by just those two alphas had nearly caused her bear to erupt. What would happen when she was aggressively contested by even more beasts? “All at one time?”

Deacon shook his head. “No. I can control that. Your job will be to remain calm and maintain your shield.”

Glancing back at the flat boulders, not wanting to see the expression on his face in case it was worse than she feared, she prepared her question.

“I will be here on the trial floor in the chair beside you.” He’d read her mind. “When Lena arrives, she will join us. Vendrick will sit with the others.”

Of course he would. Because he’d be judging her as well. “I hate to admit I thought Breslin was just kidding when he said he was trained by the ancient of legend.”

“He is real.” Deacon’s lips twitched. “Once we sit, I’ll put up a barrier between where we are, where the rest of the board members will sit, and the area for guests.”

“That makes this sound like I’m some macabre entertainment. Who can show up as guests?”

He watched her carefully. “Jacob has requested the right to represent the Karndottir clan and present the accusations against you. Whether he will be allowed to speak is up to Sheridan. I suspect others from your clan will also arrive. We don’t require advance notice, but I will have my own security team here as well as Lena’s.”

Her throat closed. Of course the enforcers would come. Another thing she hadn’t considered. Because, for a brief time, her stay among Deacon’s people had almost seemed idyllic. But she nodded. She could handle this. She had to handle this. “What will happen at the end?”

“There will be a vote.”

“And if I’m found guilty?” She hated that her voice wavered, though she wasn’t immune to the fact that even with all the help she’d received, she could still be sentenced to death.

Deacon exhaled slowly. “Past protocol dictates the board members must eliminate the threat. I’m not telling you this to frighten you. You need to know this isn’t a human verdict of justice. There is no jail. No parole. Once decided, in theory, this is over.”

Her bear brushed angrily inside, wanting out. Wanting to roar and shout and destroy for the injustice of this whole farce. “What does theory have to do with any of this?”

Deacon’s wide, terrifying grin stopped her. Her heart raced out of control, but hope flared for a moment. Deacon knew more about manipulating loopholes than anyone she’d ever encountered. And while she wouldn’t admit it to him, she believed he’d use everything he knew to help her. “The joint members of this board have never participated in a tribunal before. Their parents and some older siblings, yes. That works in our favor. I can use and manipulate any rule already on the books. Breslin isn’t the only one who spent a great deal of time with an ancient. I understand why the rules were made, and, more important, what they were not intended to be used for.”

Yet if Vendrick had taught him, then the ancient also knew the possibilities. She lifted a brow hopefully. “Are you allowed to make up new rules?”

He canted his head and stared at her for several seconds until it was all she could do not to squirm. “We’ll see.”

“What of the person who framed me for…Gauthier’s murder. Will they be here?”

The fierce red gleam sparked for a second in Deacon’s eyes. “I’m counting on it.”

It should have made her feel better, reassured. Instead, a claustrophobic sense of dread worked its way around her heart. Deacon’s phone chimed as she started up the path toward the doors and, on impulse, found herself racing for the exit.

A full-on charge drove her as a rush of heat washed across her skin. Lights flickered behind her eyes, a disorienting flicker back and forth between her human vision and that of her beast. The bear spurred her on at an uncomfortable speed. She took no notice of direction or anything around her, all rational thought lasered in on the tightness in her chest, the scent of her mate, and the flicker of her clan’s constellations in her mind’s eye.

She’d passed through Deacon’s backyard, headed for the wood boundary as searing pain lashed down her back. Determination with equal parts dread engulfed her.

Breslin!

In a split second, she shifted. A long, mournful howl bellowed from deep inside her. Suffocated by a cloying in her throat and blinded, she crouched against the ground, trying to make sense of the deluge of emotions. A crack in her vision split before her, and all she could see was fire.

She howled again and scrambled backward.

No. Her mate was the other direction. Twisting, she crawled again toward the woods, to the border and the threat that wanted her mate.

“Rayven, please stop.”

She spun her head, hearing Callum’s voice, but still in the thrall of shock, she lumbered again toward her mate. Her limbs swam in slow motion as if through quicksand, making no headway.

“You don’t need to reach him to help him.” Callum crouched beside her, just out of reach. “I know what it’s like to experience a mating that isn’t complete, but you marked him. You have the power to reach him. To help him.”

“Pain. Fire.” She ground out the words even in her bear form. She sent a frantic glance toward the woods. Her human half understood that whatever Breslin was experiencing, she’d never make it there in time to help him. But the bear… Her bear wanted him safe and whole, the need to protect made stronger by the wave of alpha power that rippled in spikes around her.

“You can feel him, and while you can’t reciprocate with thoughts—”

Angered at the incomplete mating bond, her bear swiveled her head and bellowed again.

“Remember he’s alive. The others can get him out of the wildfire. They have a plan.”

She railed, her paws swinging. Callum fell backward and lay there, not bothering to move himself safely away from her claws. “You can send him feelings. Support. Gillian and I used to do that.”

Could she? If that was true, then all she was sending him now was her compounding terror.

“You have other tools to help him, Alpha,” Deacon said softly, crouching behind Callum with one hand on the man’s shoulder. “Lena says he has one of the clan children with him. Can you see her? Can you reach her?”

What the hell? Her butt thumped on the ground as her bear, stymied by the inability to manipulate the alpha power, allowed Rayven to take hold and shift back into her human form. With a shiver, she closed her eyes and sought the lights in the constellation. No one had pledged to her, making the idea of finding a child absurd.

“She’s born to the clan, Rayven. Until they pledge, all children are tracked by the mantle and shine for you.”

Okay, logic. She could deal with logic.

“If she’s with Breslin, you’ll be able to tell.”

Lights twinkled and flashed, whether from her own panic or unfamiliarity with the constellation, she wasn’t certain. But the sea of lights coalesced in places, creating clusters. Before, Breslin had beamed gold, but if the pain she’d felt were his injuries, then the snowflake of gold, increasingly faint, must be him.

“Lena and your team are sending a signal, an ongoing jackhammer. A rhythm he should be able to feel. He may not trust it. Can you reach the girl?”

A tinier rose-colored pulse moved beside Breslin’s light. A flutter, pure and buoyant, flitted beneath her skin. Rayven reached out, brushing softly against the fragile color. “Little one. Can you hear me? I want to help you.”

Rayven waited through the silence and after a long moment, a shot of emotion thrummed back. “Can you feel the noise? Like a drumbeat.”

A steadier pulse returned.

“Good girl. Breslin needs to follow that noise. It will lead you to a safe place.”

A soft, silky sensation of stroking fur slid across her hands. Another pulse drifted through her as if seeking assurance, and she brushed her hand over a soft patch of clover, sending the sensation and scent back. “I think she’s got him listening.”

“Help is waiting for you, little one. I’ll be here with you until you’re safe.”

“Alpha Rayven.” Callum had crawled closer on his knees and sat holding out a handkerchief. A drop hit the back of her hand, and she realized tears coated her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head with a smile, leaned closer with the handkerchief, and placed it gently in her hand. “He’ll get out. He always does. Any minute now.”

“Callum. Don’t make promises,” Deacon said.

Callum’s phone jingled, and, keeping his head bowed, he still managed to give her a wink before he turned, stood, and walked toward the house to take the call.

Too worried to move, Rayven looked at Deacon. How badly had she messed up? The run in bear form all the way from the assembly building must have blown her cover. Not that she could help it or would have done anything different. She could feel Breslin still. The pain and sensation of smoke was gone, though she suspected he was blocking her once he’d realized she could reach his young charge. The precious experience still resonated along with her worry for the child’s safety. “How many people saw what I did?”

“None,” he responded, assuming a seat in front of her and bracing his arms over his knees. “I was able to cover your escape, and no one can enter or see into the grounds surrounding my home without my invitation.”

Right. Smart and well-planned actions. Unlike her manic rampage and complete loss of control. But she didn’t even have the heart to move. Not until she knew Breslin had made it out alive. His flagging energy beat at her, but no new pain erupted over their fragile bond. She’d take heart in that. “What next?”

“You’re done with training.”

“I certainly have more to learn, or does that mean there’s no hope?”

He leaned closer, moving slowly as he lifted his hand and cupped the back of her head bringing her closer until they were eye to eye. “You need help navigating this trial. And while your instincts are raw and untrained, don’t ever doubt that you were born to be an alpha.”

Callum ran back, a hopeful look on his face. “He’s out. They’ve got both of them.”

Deacon released her, and she managed a nod, not ready to get up.

He stood and headed toward the house. “Put your mind at rest, Rayven. For I need you fresh and ready once all the alphas have arrived.”