The next morning, Ryenne and Lucien sat in the kitchen, having a leisurely breakfast of croissants and pains au chocolat and the dregs of Françoise’s pot of coffee. Dany had gone out to meet Guy and some of their friends. Françoise was in the office catching up on paperwork.

The phone rang in the office and Ryenne could just barely make out Françoise’s voice. After a minute or so, there was a harsh exclamation that Ryenne didn’t know but, judging from Lucien’s reaction, it was one she should learn. He jumped up, his face frozen in surprise and fear.

Ryenne followed him to the office where Françoise stood next to the desk, shaking. Lucien went to his mother and wrapped an arm around her. “Maman, what’s wrong? Who was it?”

“It was your Monsieur Vanier,” she said. “Lord Enterprises is officially requesting to buy Malraux Frères.”

“What?”

“He’s their lawyer. Did you know that?” she asked.

Ryenne and Lucien stood silently, but confusion churned inside Ryenne. They’d only known Vanier was a lawyer; nothing about his clients. Maybe they should’ve suspected when Renardin turned out to be a Fang.

“He’s a Fang lawyer and he says he has papers for us to sign.”

“What kind of papers?” Ryenne asked.

Françoise stared at her with a vacant expression. “Papers to sign over our business to the Fangs. He wanted to make an appointment. He was calling to make an appointment for us to sign the papers, as if we had already agreed to this. Why would they think that?” Her voice rose with each new question and her tone became more strident.

Ryenne had never seen Lucien’s mother like this.

Lucien attempted to console her and Ryenne came around the side of the desk to sit in front of the computer. She typed in ‘Grieux’ and ‘Lord Enterprises’ and found a link to an employee page on Lord Enterprise’s website with a formal picture of the man they had met yesterday. His gray hair was slicked back from his forehead, and his amber eyes were dead. The site confirmed what he had told them yesterday. He was the Managing Director of Lord Enterprises in France.

“It’s Jean,” Françoise said suddenly.

“You know him, Maman?”

“Yes, we all grew up together. Him and your dad and Mathieu and me. We were all friends. We went to high school together.” Her voice trickled away.

“What?” Lucien prompted.

“We were all friends until your father and I fell in love.”

“So, this Jean liked you?” Lucien asked, clearly uncomfortable.

“We had all been friends and I never thought of him as anything else. Then your father and I fell for each other and pushed our other friends away. We were young and in love and selfish.”

Ryenne nodded but she didn’t understand, having never felt it.

“We were our own entity, Françoise and Michel. Mathieu was always there, of course, because he was Michel’s brother. But I didn’t notice Jean had stopped hanging out with us until he turned against us.”

“Turned against you, how?”

“Little things at first, snide comments. The Grieux and Malraux packs had always gotten along fine, but suddenly Jean acted like our families were enemies and he wasn’t allowed to be friends with your father and Mathieu anymore. I didn’t think much of it at the time. We continued with our lives. Michel and Mathieu joined the family business and took it over when your grandfather died, and I went to university in the city. When I finished, I joined the business as well. Over the years, occasionally I would find a dead housecat in front of my house, and because of a comment Jean once made about cats, I wondered if he had been responsible.”

“When did you last see him?” Lucien asked.

“I haven’t seen Jean Grieux in thirty years, maybe closer to forty.”

“But you recognize him from this picture?”

“Oh yes. He always wore his hair that way and his eyes haven’t changed.” Françoise shuddered. “When we were young, I didn’t notice his eyes could take on that inhuman, dead quality. Not until he decided he hated us. At other times, it was like they were aflame. It was what I remembered most about Jean.”

A treacherous thought crossed Ryenne’s mind. Could this be the real reason the Fangs had targeted the Malraux? Maybe it had nothing to do with Ryenne. She wouldn’t say it aloud because Françoise didn’t need another reason to hate her. But she couldn’t help but wonder.

If so, Ryenne could stop feeling guilty about dragging Lucien’s family into whatever war the Fangs had with her.

Ryenne’s phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, she headed out of the room. “It’s Gavin. I’d better take this. He should be leaving any minute for the wedding and probably needs a pep talk.”

She messaged him back, then ran up the stairs to set up her laptop for a video call. When his face popped up on her screen, his hair was sticking up in multiple directions.

“What’s with the bedhead, Gav? Shouldn’t you be ready for the wedding?” She glanced at the time on the computer and did some quick math. “Get moving. You’re going to be late.”

“I’m not going,” he said.

“Why not?”

“You know why. I can’t do this without you.”

“Way to make me feel guilty,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You know I wish I could be there with you.”

“That’s not what this is about. I get why you’re there, and I’m okay with it. In fact, I think I should join you.”

“What?” The memory of Grieux’s fiery stare flashed through her mind. “It’s not a good idea, not a good time. We’re in danger.”

“Where else in the world would I be safer than with you?” he asked.

“Please, Gavin. If you don’t want to go to the wedding, then don’t go, but the answer isn’t coming here instead.”

A message popped up on the bottom of the screen and she sighed. Her nerves were frayed and she didn’t know if she could take anymore.

“It’s Mom. Don’t make any decisions, Gavin. I’ll call you back.”

He smirked and ended the call. Her stomach sank. She knew that smirk. He wasn’t going to listen to her.

She answered her mother’s call and her stomach sank even lower at the sight of her mother’s furrowed brow and under-eye dark circles. Willow Cavanagh had always been one of the most beautiful women Ryenne had ever known. Right now, her beauty was marred by worry.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

Her mother waved her hand at the screen. “I just wanted to see how you are.”

“Bullshit, Mom. What happened?”

Her mom sighed. “I got another letter. In fact, since we last spoke, I’ve had a few letters.”

“From the same person, I assume.”

“I think so. They’re signed T.O. again as in the last one.”

Ryenne nodded. “What do they say?”

“Pretty much the same as the first, but the last one added something new.” Willow stared at her for a few seconds and Ryenne’s gut twisted.

What could have her mom so worried?

“This person suggests I do a memorial for Cody and your dad on the anniversary of Cody’s death in a couple of months,” Mom said.

“How do they know the anniversary of Cody’s death?”

Her mom shrugged. “I don’t know, but they claim to know more than this, too, and are still pushing to meet with me.”

“Please, don’t go. Wait until I get home.”

“Of course, Ryenne, I won’t do anything without you.”

Ryenne was torn. The Malraux needed her and her mom needed her. Despite telling Gavin he shouldn’t come, a small part of her wanted him to. She needed her family right now just as the Malraux family needed her. But she couldn’t put her mom in further danger by asking her to come to Paris. They would just have to push this problem aside for now.

“Mom, I’m sorry about this. Now isn’t a good time. These people keep upping the ante and I have to see it through. But then I’ll be home, I promise, and I’ll track down this T.O. and wring the information out of him or her.”

Willow smiled. “I know you will, honey, and I wish you wouldn’t. I’m fine.”

“Mom.”

“No, really, Ryenne. It’s been upsetting to have these reminders, but do what you need to do.”

“Are you still having nightmares?” Ryenne had only been a child when it happened. She couldn’t imagine what her mom went through every day, having lost a child and the love of her life. And knowing Ryenne worked in a dangerous profession.

“It will work out,” Mom said, not answering Ryenne’s question. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

“I’ll see you before then, Mom. I’ll send you a message every day so you know I’m okay.”

Her mom’s smile widened. “Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too. See you soon.”

They hung up, and Ryenne stared out the window over Lucien’s bed at the rooftops of Paris beyond the back garden. Her gut was telling her this was a bigger problem than her mother was letting on. And Mom was clearly losing sleep to it, judging from the dark circles under her eyes.

She probably still had nightmares, just as Ryenne did. The nightmares had eased with Lucien sleeping next to her. She wished her mom had someone, too. Someone to help blunt the pain. Nothing would ever take it away completely, but her mother deserved a little measure of happiness, too.

When Ryenne got home, once they got through this fight with the Fangs, Ryenne would find a way to make it up to Gavin and her mom, and to make sure that T.O. could never harm her mother.

***

Downstairs, Françoise was on the phone, her back turned to the office doorway. Lucien lounged in one of the comfortable upholstered chairs.

Ryenne perched on the arm of his chair and jutted a chin toward his mother.

“She’s filling in Mathieu on the call from the lawyer, since he’s part owner of Malraux Frères.”

“Ah.”

“She called Emma and told her and Pascal and the girls to come stay here for a few days so we can all protect each other.”

“Probably smart,” Ryenne said.

He quirked an eyebrow. “We’ll be a bit crowded.”

“Especially with Gavin joining us, too.”

Lucien smiled and shook his head. “Maman would love him if she wasn’t so worked up about our situation.”

“We could put him up in a hotel if he’ll be one too many wolves in the pack, so to speak.”

“No, no, he’ll be safer with us, too. Once the Fangs know he’s here, he’ll be a target.”

Damn. She wished she could have convinced him not to come. But Gavin was almost as stubborn as she was.

“If only we could have talked to Vanier and tried to get some information out of him,” Lucien said. “He knew Renardin. Maybe he knows about his death. Maman had the perfect opportunity.”

“I did,” Françoise said, hanging up the office phone. “But I let my anger and surprise control me. Just as I did with Renardin before Lucien got stabbed. This is why we must all be on our guard. They may come after any one of us next.”

Anyone would have been pushed to anger after all the family had been through so far. Ryenne didn’t blame Françoise.

“I’m just going to check my email and make sure I haven’t ignored any pressing business in the midst of this Fang nonsense,” Françoise said. “Then we’ll have apéros.” She turned to Ryenne. “It’s short for apéritifs, drinks before dinner. Emma should be here soon.”

Dany and Guy appeared in the doorway, arms around each other, faces flushed. At least someone was getting some action today.

The front door crashed open. “Sorry,” Emma called out. Squealing girls and thuds of boxes and bags hitting the floor accompanied her apology. Emma soon joined her sister in the doorway of the office. “We’re here. We’ll bring our stuff up to my old bedroom. The girls are going outside to play. Can someone keep an eye on them?”

Dany and Guy followed the girls out the kitchen door while Emma joined her husband in the hall, leaving Ryenne alone in the office with Lucien and his mother.

A vaguely familiar voice filled the room. It came from Françoise’s computer. Ryenne and Lucien joined Françoise, and Emma and Pascal returned and crowded into the office.

Jean Grieux’s face filled the computer screen.

“Hello, Françoise,” he said in English. “I’m sure this must come as a surprise to you. I lost track of you and your family for many years. Decades, even. But the Malraux name came up from time to time. Congratulations on garnering such a strong reputation. It seems as though you chose the right man, after all.”

His voice had everyone transfixed.

“However, I have done very well for myself, too. Managing Director of a multinational corporation. Big house in the sixteenth arrondissement. Who would have thought that after all this time, we’d end up living so close together, just as we did when we were kids?”

No one moved. A chill filled the room despite the warmth of the day.

“I’m sure you are wondering why I have reached out to you after all these years via this video message,” Grieux’s voice continued from the computer. “The answer is simple, and yet very complicated at the same time. You and your family have something I want. Your business is successful and well-known, and your family has skills that my company, and I personally, could use. We have tried to do things nicely. We tried to convince you to work with us, but you refused. We made a genuine offer of purchase, which you have also refused. Now, we won’t be so nice.”

Ryenne stared at Grieux’s face and marveled at how matter of fact he sounded. He looked like he was chatting with an old friend. His fiery eyes held her with a power she couldn’t explain.

“Because of our history together, I’m sending you this message of warning. Your refusals have led to this. Now, it is war. Goodbye, Françoise. Until next time.”

He smiled as the picture faded. His smile and quiet words were scarier than anything Ryenne had faced in Kenya where she had almost lost her life.

They all stared at each other as the memory of the sound of his voice faded from the room. Dany and Guy had joined them, looking angry. Emma looked worried.

Lucien put a hand on Ryenne’s arm.

“This is bullshit,” she said.

Guy nodded.

“Apéritifs will have to wait,” Françoise said. “We’re going to Mathieu’s.”

“Now?” Emma asked. “Why?”

“The Fangs have thrown us a challenge,” Lucien said. “Now we have to be ready.”

“Time for some new weapons.” Françoise grinned.

***

During the car ride out of the city, Lucien explained to Ryenne that Mathieu lived in the house where he and Lucien’s father were raised, in the small, once-rural town where they and Françoise had grown up. They left Paris by the Porte Maillot and took the A14 highway to Saint-Germain-en-Laye. It had all been wild forest, once upon a time, he told her. Now, there was plenty of development, but enough open forest behind Mathieu’s house to run in and protect his secret.

It was an old, sprawling stone farmhouse that abutted a forest.

“Does he live here alone?” she asked.

“He does now,” Lucien answered. “After his wife died of cancer, he took it badly, of course, and it affected his relationship with his kids. None of us have heard from his son in about five years, and his daughter, Catherine, moved to the south of France as soon as she turned eighteen. We talk to her occasionally, especially Dany, since they were really close. But even Dany hasn’t been able to convince Catherine to move home.”

How sad for Mathieu, Ryenne thought. He was such a friendly and expansive person. This big, empty house must leave him lonely. On the other hand, she could relate to what Catherine and her brother had been through since Ryenne, too, had lost a parent at a young age. The loss had changed her. Luckily, it hadn’t taken her from her mother, too.

Lucien led the way to Mathieu’s workshop and showroom at the back of the house.

Mathieu, in a heavy leather apron, greeted them from a large wooden work table. “From what you’ve told me about recent events since our dinner on Thursday night, I have to agree with your mother that it has been the Fangs all along. For whatever reason, they want our business.”

“Well, they can’t have it,” Françoise said.

Ryenne nodded and Françoise gave her a surprised look which Ryenne ignored. She may not have appreciated Françoise and Emma blaming her for this, but regardless of whose fault it was, the Malraux business and potentially the Malraux family were in danger and Ryenne would do anything she could to protect them and their livelihood. She knew how important this business was to Lucien and his family and she cared enough about all of them to help them.

“We know of at least one person connected to us that the Fangs have killed,” Ryenne said. “So we know we have to protect ourselves.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Lucien said.

“The Fangs aren’t just thugs,” Mathieu said. “We have to be ready for them in more ways than just being well-armed.”

Everyone nodded.

“But we might as well be well-armed, too.” Ryenne smirked.

They walked through a large showroom with weapons displayed on every wall, into his workshop. Ryenne’s mouth dropped open. It was huge, with a domed ceiling, stone walls, a concrete floor, shelves, and cupboards of materials. At the back, on an exterior wall of the house, was a huge fireplace like something a blacksmith would have needed a hundred years ago, surrounded by a smith’s tools, bellows, long clamps, leather aprons. There were ventilation slits in the wall and a door out to a park-like backyard.

“Did this exist when you were a boy?” she asked.

Mathieu nodded. “I created the showroom you came through when my kids were small. It was a playroom when Michel and I were boys.”

Mathieu showed her all around the workshop while the others stayed in the showroom, picking out weapons. At one point Ryenne glanced toward the door and saw Françoise watching her.

Mathieu noticed her gaze and laughed under his breath. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll come around.”

“How do you know?”

“She is very protective of her family, as any mother would be. But, as a wolf shifter, she’s at least doubly so. You are proving yourself to be a good match for her son, that you care about him, and are willing to sacrifice yourself for this family.”

Ryenne gave him a quizzical look. “Sacrifice?” She was more than willing to help the Malraux, but that word sounded extreme.

“You’ve been up against the Fangs before. I heard you almost lost your life.”

She gave a hard nod. She had survived the Fangs once before and she hoped to again. But Mathieu was right; as a human fighting multiple shifters, she could die.

“Ready to pick a weapon for yourself to go up against the Fangs?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “I can pick one of your beautiful swords or daggers?”

He nodded. “Anything you want is my gift to you, as long as you use it to protect this family.”

“I will. I swear.”

“I know.”

They joined the others in the display room just in time to hear Lucien’s phone ring. Lucien took it out of his pocket and frowned at the display.

Ryenne stared at a wall of swords.

“Go ahead and take down any one you want,” Mathieu said. “The weapon has to feel like it belongs to its owner. Give it a few practice swings.”

Ryenne lifted one down from its horizontal rack and swung it around experimentally, listening to Lucien’s conversation behind her. He spoke in French in quiet tones and had moved to the farthest point in the room from anyone else. Ryenne wouldn’t have understood him even if he’d been shouting from the middle of the room, but his behavior made it clear he didn’t want anyone else to hear him, either.

She practiced her stance with the sword, swung it a few more times, and approached Dany. Nodding her head toward Lucien, she whispered, “Any idea what that’s about?”

Dany rolled her eyes and whispered back. “He’s talking to Chantal. Sounds like she’s trying to see him and he refused. He tried letting her down gently but she must have kept pressing. Now he’s saying he has nothing else to say to her and wants her to stop calling him.”

Interesting. Stop calling him implied she’d been calling him, not just this one time. Lucien hadn’t mentioned it, but if he was really rejecting Chantal, why hide it from Ryenne?

She put the sword back on its wall rack and chose another one. A few swings later, she smiled. This one felt right, but she couldn’t explain it. It was the zing with which it sliced through the air, and the hilt fit perfectly in her hand. She wasn’t sure how she’d get it home, though. It wouldn’t fit in her luggage and she certainly couldn’t carry it on the plane. Mailing it might be an option....

Mathieu seemed to read her mind. “I’ll happily loan you this sword for whenever you are here in France, and you can return it to me before you leave.”

She nodded her appreciation. “I will cherish it for as long as I get to use it.”

On the way back into town, she and Lucien were squished together in the back seat next to Dany. Ryenne leaned over to him and whispered, “Something I should know about?”

“No, everything is fine,” he said.

Like hell everything was fine if Chantal was trying to get Lucien back. The bitch whose boyfriend may have stabbed Lucien. And if she had a boyfriend, why was she trying to get Lucien back? Ryenne would have to take matters into her own hands.