The sounds of battle—shouts, growls, thuds—echoed through the trees now that Tanner was outside the silence sphere spell. Somewhere to the east, Chase was in danger. Not only Chase, but all the Doghouse guys, Mal, Quentin, Ted—everyone who was important to him. All because of me.

A rabbit shot out of the underbrush and fled across the path in front of him, causing him to stumble.

“Tanner!” Patrick called. “Come back here at once.”

No, not because of me. Because of fucking Uncle Patrick.

Patrick. Who’d just shot his own son. Who’d caused the death of his own sister and thought it acceptable collateral damage.

Who never cared for me at all.

Tanner’s ribs were an iron cage, squeezing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. He raised his hand to dash the tears from his cheeks, but his hand wasn’t empty. He stumbled to a halt.

Patrick’s gun. I forgot. Oh, gods, Patrick had been wearing gloves. Tanner’s and Finn’s fingerprints would be the only ones on the handle. It’s going to look like I shot Finn. He stared at the gun. Could I shoot Patrick?

From the direction of the fight, a howl cut off with a tortured yip. Tanner set his jaw. If it keeps my friends safe, if it keeps Patrick from attacking Chase, I can do it. I will do it.

He turned slowly and raised the gun as Patrick crashed out of the underbrush onto the path a dozen yards away.

“Stay where you are or I’ll shoot.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Patrick brushed at the leaves clinging to his duster’s sleeves and shot an irritated glance at Tanner. “You could no more shoot anyone than you could fly to the moon.”

The gun wobbled in Tanner’s grip. He’s right. I couldn’t even kill a rabbit when I was starving. There’s no way I can shoot a person. Even one as despicable as Patrick. He lowered the gun to his side. I’ll have to find another way.

“Just as I thought.” Patrick held out his hand. “Now give it here so we can get this over with.”

Tanner choked on a laugh. “Are you crazy? You think I’ll just give you the gun so you can shoot me? Shoot Finn again? Shoot my friends?”

Patrick’s brows drew together. “Tanner.” His voice deepened, roughened, in the dominant tone of alpha authority. “Give me the gun.”

But the order didn’t resonate in Tanner’s core at all. Tanner raised his chin. “No.”

“You—” Patrick’s face twisted in fury. “You can’t defy me.”

“Yes, I can. And I do.” Tanner stared him in the eyes. “You’re not my pack alpha. What’s more, you never were. You only had the authority that I granted you, and I don’t anymore.”

“It hardly matters. Look at you. You’re holding the gun and you can’t bring yourself to pull the trigger. You’re weak, too weak to lead my pack, and I will end you. You. Finn. Your precious RA. All of you.” He took a step forward, his mouth stretching in a travesty of a smile. “But I’ll start with you.”

“Maybe.” Tanner’s nerves sang as if he’d just downed one of Dr. MacLeod’s energy drinks. “But you’ll have to catch me first.” He turned and bounded into the trees, still clutching the gun, Jordan’s cell phone jabbing his butt with each stride.

Patrick swore viciously and crashed after him.

Tanner dodged among the boles, but not too fast—he wanted to lead Patrick away from his friends, and he couldn’t do that if he lost Patrick in the woods.

Drawing him away isn’t enough. Finn’s injured, maybe dying, and I need to warn everyone that Patrick’s dangerous, that he’s a murderer. I need a plan.

But with the pieces of his life crumbling around him, he wanted nothing so much as to crawl into the nearest cave and howl.

Wait. A cave.

Tanner pivoted sharply and doubled back to pass within a few feet of Patrick. “I won’t let you hurt anyone ever again.”

Patrick lunged, but his Italian loafers slid on the pine mast and he missed his grab. “You can’t stop me.”

We’ll see about that.

Tanner loped away, maintaining the optimal distance—close enough to taunt and entice, but far enough to be safely out of reach. When the entrance to Ted’s cave came into view, Tanner’s courage failed. The cave wasn’t large and had no other exit. Patrick was bigger, a normal-sized were and could overpower Tanner easily in hand-to-hand combat, despite Mal’s lessons. If Patrick managed to grab the gun . . .

Ten seconds. All I need is ten seconds.

He gritted his teeth and dashed inside the cave.

A shoosh of pine needles and a crackle of twigs announced Patrick’s arrival. “Really, Tanner? If this doesn’t prove how unsuited you are for leadership . . . Nobody could possibly blame me for unseating you.”

“‘Unseating’?” Tanner tucked the gun under his belt at the small of his back and picked up the largest can of chili, hefting it in his hand. “Is that what you call murder?”

“Murder is a human term. Traditional werewolf ascension rites are outside those laws.”

“I’m pretty sure murder is murder no matter who you ask.” He grabbed the box of matches and shoved it into his pocket.

“That’s a child’s belief. And you’re behaving exactly like a child. Come out of there at once.”

“No.” Tanner flattened himself against the wall next to the cave mouth. “I’m not volunteering for my own murder. If you want me, you’ll have to come in and get me.”

Patrick’s impatient huff was clearly audible. “You realize you’re only making this harder on yourself.” His footsteps drew nearer . . . nearer . . . right outside now.

While Tanner was able to run into the cave with only his hair brushing the top of the cave mouth, Uncle Patrick was a normal-sized were.

He had to duck.

And as soon as the back of his head, red hair smooth and perfectly cut, appeared, Tanner nailed him with the can of chili.

Patrick staggered into the cave and toppled forward onto his hands and knees, stunned but not unconscious. Ten seconds. All I need is ten seconds.

Tanner dashed outside and pulled Jordan’s phone out of his pocket. Thank goodness we’ve never convinced him to secure it. He opened the FTA app and touched the gold rune in the center of the digital oak leaf, half his attention on Patrick, who was shaking his head, but hadn’t yet stood up.

The tinny voice said, “Cludo” and almost immediately, the same enormous duergar driver who’d taken them from Forest Park stepped out of the trees. Thank goodness. If it had been a smaller fae, this plan would have exploded in my face.

“Where to?” the driver rumbled.

Tanner pointed to the cave mouth. “There.”

The driver squinted at it. “It’s two bloody steps away.”

“I know. But can you just sit there and block it? Keep the guy inside from getting out?”

The driver rubbed his chin. “Meter’s still running.”

“I don’t care. This is what I need to . . . to keep supes out of danger. That’s your job, right?”

He shrugged. “It’s your gold.” But he sat down, his back to the hillside, completely covering the cave mouth.

Tanner let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.” Inside the cave, Patrick yelled something, there was a thump, and the driver twitched. “He’s, uh, not very happy, so he’ll probably attack you.”

“With what?”

“I took the matches, so not fire. But, um, fists? Candles. Maybe a can opener. Although he is a werewolf, so shifting is a possibility.”

“Can’t hurt me. But if he damages the uniform, you’ll get a bill.”

“I’ll pay it. Gladly.” The app was connected to Jordan’s account, but Tanner would pony up any charges—in Frisbees, if necessary—and never count the cost. “Now if you’ll excuse me . . .” Tanner edged away until a tumble of rocks screened him from the driver. He tossed the gun on the ground, although he placed Jordan’s phone more carefully with a whispered thank you. Then he stripped faster than he’d ever done in his life, even when he was dodging disgruntled restaurant workers during his self-imposed exile.

He shifted, but as he was poised to run, his gaze snagged on the gun. If Uncle Patrick gets out somehow . . .

He dug a shallow hole and nudged the gun into it with his nose. Then he filled in the hole, kicked some pine needles over it, and darted into the woods, back toward the resort, back toward the battle.

Back toward my heart.

But while Chase was drawing him like a beacon, and Tanner wanted nothing so much as to be by his side, Chase had one of the most formidable fae warriors in history by his side. Finn had no one, and Tanner had no idea how long the FTA driver’s patience would endure with Patrick whaling on him with canned goods.

I need help. Damn it, I should have called someone on Jordan’s phone before I shifted. Obviously he couldn’t get into the cabin, not with the battle raging in front of it. The resort. There had to be a phone there, right? It was a business. And it’s got a resident vampire at the moment. Surely he’d know how to contact the right people.

The sounds of the fight were clearer now with his wolf’s hearing, and they pushed him to his top speed. He burst out of the woods on the other side of the resort from the cabin and raced toward the deck, where he’d seen Elmer and Cas vanish—Gods, was it only last night?—hoping the door wasn’t locked.

But when he slunk down a set of shallow steps, Cas was standing outside—in daylight—frowning toward the battle.

“If you die on our wedding day, Elmer,” he muttered, “I will kill you.” His face suddenly screwed up as if he’d smelled something revolting. That would be me. He whirled and glared at Tanner. “Wolf. What are you doing here?”

The flagstone patio under the deck offered nowhere to hide, but Tanner didn’t have time for modesty. He shifted. “I need your help.”

Cas pointed at the battle. “So do they. If you—”

“I know who caused the golems. He shot my cousin. I’ve got him trapped in a cave, but there’s not much time—”

“Why didn’t you say so? Come on. I know just who to call.”

 

 

Chest heaving, Chase let his ad hoc truncheon drop from his numb fingers. All the golems had been dispatched, their remains crumbling away, leaving behind several weary weres, a couple of grimy warriors, and a very muddy bear being enfolded in an incubus’s leathery black wings.

One by one, the Doghouse weres shifted back to human. Jordan bounded over to Chase. “Did you see, Chase? Digging holes in the backyard isn’t a nuisance. It’s training. We should all do more of it in case we meet mud monsters again. If Mal doesn’t know how, we could show him.”

Chase chuckled and slapped Jordan’s shoulder. “Stranger things, buddy. You did great. But I think it might be time for you to get dressed again, don’t you?”

Jordan glanced down at himself and blinked. “I’m naked. I forgot.”

Chase studied the dirt streaking Jordan’s chest, arms, and legs. “You might want to clean up a bit first. Underwear full of grit isn’t the most comfortable.”

Jordan wrinkled his nose. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey!” Gage loped over, panting and similarly covered with mud. “The lake’s right there. Let’s go rinse off.”

Jordan backed away, holding his hands up in front of him. “In the water? Are you crazy?”

“Nope.” Gage grinned. “Just filthy. So are you.” He whistled between his teeth, and Dakota trotted over, Hector at his heels. “What do you say, guys? Should we give Jordan a swimming lesson?”

All three of them whooped and raised Jordan to their shoulders, then made tracks down the slope toward the lake shore. Chase watched until they heaved Jordan into the water. He tensed, ready to sprint for the lake, but Jordan emerged, spluttering, his hands flailing in the water.

Ted ambled over, chuckling as he scraped mud out of his beard. “Don’t worry. It’s pretty shallow this close to shore. It doesn’t get deep until about twenty feet in.” Gage made a run at the water, leaping into a long, shallow dive that sent him about five feet beyond Jordan. The other guys splashed in a little more tentatively. “In fact, I should probably jump in myself.”

Quentin joined them, wiping a clear space on his husband’s cheek to press a kiss there; smiling fondly, he brushed ineffectually at the dirt on Ted’s shoulders. “You know, darling, you do have a cabin right here with two perfectly functional showers.”

“I know. But the dirt’ll clog the pipes.” He grinned. “Besides, it looks like they’re having fun.”

Chase shaded his eyes against the glare of sunlight on water. Ted was right. Although Hector was paddling sedately in the shallows, Gage and Dakota appeared to be playing keep-away with Jordan, tossing a soggy ball of something between them. Wait . . . “Whose shirt is that?” He shook his head. “You know what? Never mind.”

Ted chuckled, stroking the edge of Quentin’s wings. “Wings in public, Q-Bert.” He clucked his tongue. “You keep forgetting.”

“Only when you’re about to be drowned in mud, darling.” He shooed Ted toward the lake. “Now go play with the pups.” He sighed as he watched Ted trot down to the shore. “Damn, that man has one fine ass.”

Chase averted his gaze, feeling heat wash up his neck. Was I staring? “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right.” Quentin patted Chase’s arm. “It’s hard to miss up close and personal like this.” He glanced around. Rusty and Mal were talking quietly over a mound of dirt clods. “Wait a minute.” Quentin’s tone turned sharp. “Where’s Tanner?”

“Mal told him to get off the battlefield, since he said the golems were mainly after Tanner.” All of a sudden, the adrenaline of the fight drained away and Chase’s knees buckled. He butt-planted on the ground. The golems were after Tanner. “This wasn’t accidental. There was a curse. Mal said there was a curse.” Chase pushed himself up, weaving on unsteady legs until Quentin steadied him with a hand on his elbow.

“Easy.”

“But Tanner left before Mal told us. He doesn’t know about the curse. If he—”

“I don’t think the curse is the main worry right now. Or rather, I suspect it’s part of a larger issue. I wish Mal wasn’t so literal-minded.” He glanced down at himself. Part of his own bare chest was visible amid the tatters of his suit. “There goes another suit. I should know better than to wear anything other than off-the-rack when I’m around Ted.” He smiled, a bit grimly. “He seems to attract trouble, and I, er, react badly to any threat to him.”

Chase pushed down the urge to run, to seek, to claim. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you have any idea where Tanner might have gone if he was looking for someplace safe?”

Chase snapped his fingers. “Ted’s cave.”

Quentin raised his eyebrows. “He showed you that?”

“Yes. We went into Dewton yesterday to get some clothes, and—”

Quentin winced. “I wish you hadn’t. The point of a safe house is to remain hidden, you know.”

“I, uh . . .” Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Probably wasn’t the smartest. But Ted said no supes ever go through Dewton, so I figured we weren’t likely to run into anybody we knew.”

Quentin shook his head. “Honestly. He goes to Dewton. So do I. But no sense belaboring the point. What’s done is done. As long as that was your only exposure . . . What?”

Chase screwed up his face. “That’s not entirely the only thing. Tanner was afraid his uncle would worry. He was sending a couple of Tanner’s pack mates to the Doghouse to help him move back home.” Chase’s hackles rose. That’s not his home. His home is with me.

Quentin’s jaw sagged. “Please tell me he didn’t—”

“He did. He called his uncle. Well, actually I called his uncle from my cell phone.” He pointed to the cabin. “From your kitchen. Although the reception wasn’t great.”

“No. And there’s a reason for that. Devil take it, if I’d known you’d been in contact, I’d have defied the council’s gag order and warned you when I arrived. But you were here. Safe. I assumed there was no risk.” Quentin ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. “Fucking Patrick Lassiter is the absolute last person Tanner should have called.”

Chase’s breath congealed in his lungs. “Why? Because his cousin could find out?”

“His cousin?”

“Finn. Tanner saw him in Portland the night of his birthday. That’s the reason—one of the reasons he ran away.”

Quentin’s expression turned grim. “Finn Lassiter is the one who laid evidence against the Wallowa pack at the arbitration. Against his father.”

“Against Patrick? But Patrick’s always taken Tanner’s side against Finn.”

“Because Patrick doesn’t want to share power, not even with his own son. He had to keep Finn repressed. He knew Tanner would never be a threat.”

Chase’s fists curled, anger swirling on Tanner’s behalf. “Why?”

“Because he’s had Tanner’s death planned since he was born. Lately, Lassiter has been trying to stage a coup and consolidate several packs in eastern Oregon, Washington, and western Idaho into one. With himself as pack alpha.”

“But . . . but Tanner’s the pack alpha.”

“Technically, yes. But Lassiter has been acting as if Tanner didn’t exist since November twenty-third.”

Chase punched his thigh. “The night of his birthday.”

“The night he came of age.”

“But how— He didn’t even know Tanner was missing! I didn’t know Tanner was missing.”

“He expected Tanner to be missing.” Quentin nodded at the remains of the golems. “Permanently.”

“Wait. Tanner’s uncle cursed the ring?”

“Yes.” Quentin’s lips curved in a wintry smile. “He’s probably been waiting for you to report Tanner missing since November.”

Chase put the twisted pieces together. “So he wouldn’t have bothered to look again—”

“Until Tanner called and told him there was actually somebody to find.”

Chase fumbled with his shirt buttons, but when his fingers refused to cooperate, he ripped the damn shirt open, buttons be damned. “I have to find Tanner. Warn him. Tell him.” Gods, this was going to devastate him. He’d always been so certain of his uncle’s devotion. He was devoted, all right. Devoted to his own interests, the asshole. “I know his scent.” Maybe better than my own. “I can find him.”

Quentin gripped his arm. “I agree we must locate Tanner. But you can’t go off on your own. Patrick Lassiter is a very dangerous man, and his entire power base depends on everyone believing that Tanner’s death—”

“Don’t say that!”

“Tanner’s demise—”

“Don’t say that either!”

Quentin shook Chase’s arm. “I’m not advocating for it, you infuriating wolf, I’m telling you what Lassiter’s perspective is.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Anyway, the only way he can consolidate his power grab is by convincing the council that Tanner’s death was an unfortunate accident, the result of an unstable mind, or caused by an attack from an unknown adversary whom someone as young as Tanner wouldn’t be able to adequately counter.”

“That’s all the more reason to—”

“And”—Quentin raised his voice to override Chase—“the only way he can manage that is if there are no witnesses to testify to the contrary.”

“You mean—”

“At this point, you are in as great a danger as Tanner. In fact, your housemates may be in danger too, as well as myself, Mal, Rusty, Ted.” Quentin’s eyes flashed red behind his glasses and his wings rustled, extending slightly. “Although I will never allow that to happen.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Chase bunched his shirt hem in his fists. “He could be in trouble right now. I can’t just stand here because I might be at risk. I have to do something.”

“The council took their sweet time reaching a verdict, and the administrative paperwork is even slower, but I expect the warrant for Patrick’s arrest will have been issued by now. So all we need to do is corral our little group until they’ve secured him. Here’s what we’ll—” Quentin’s gaze shifted to a point beyond Chase’s shoulder. “Well. It looks like we won’t have to mount a search after all.”

Chase whirled. And there, trotting down the path from the lodge—barefoot, but wearing dark trousers and a blue sweater that were both a little too small—was Tanner.

 

 

Tanner didn’t think anything could ever lift his heart again, but the expression on Chase’s face when he turned and saw Tanner running from the lodge—that did it. And when Chase raced to meet him, unbuttoned shirt flapping behind him, that lifted it even more. And when Chase slammed into him, his arms going around Tanner, his lips meeting Tanner’s in a bruising kiss—well, that was a little painful, but Tanner was certain he was floating a foot off the ground.

Chase broke the kiss but didn’t release him. “Tanner. Gods, are you all right?”

Tanner kissed Chase’s neck— Because I can. “I’m okay. But there’s some stuff— Wait. Is that Jordan? In the water?”

Chase glanced at the lake shore, where a bear and four wolves now stood, shaking the water out of their fur. “Yes, but never mind. There’s something you need to know.”

Tanner put both hands on Chase’s chest. “Just a minute. I need to tell Mal and Quentin something.” But before Tanner could disengage from Chase, Rusty stormed over, gripping his sledgehammer under the head in a massive—and very grubby—fist.

Rusty pointed at Tanner. “That’s Cas’s sweater. And his pants. If you’ve hurt him—”

Tanner held up his hands. “He’s fine. He used his influence with his vampire chief to contact the supe council and they’re sending—”

“Let me guess,” Mal said, sheathing his sword as he strolled over. “My brother Alun. The Queen’s Champion.”

“Medical help too. There’s a—” Tanner swallowed, the sight of Finn’s blood still fresh in his memory. “Someone was shot. My uncle.”

Quentin strode over, his wings mantling. “Someone shot Patrick?”

“No. Patrick shot somebody else. My cousin.” His own son. “Although I think he was going to try to make it look like I did it.”

Mal exchanged an enigmatic glance with Quentin, then gripped Tanner’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. Alun will make sure the human authorities aren’t involved, and the fae have their own bag of forensic tricks.”

Chase laced his fingers with Tanner’s. “So you know? About your uncle?”

Tanner nodded, his eyes prickling. I won’t cry about Uncle Patrick. I won’t. “He nearly monologued me to death.”

“Do you know where Patrick is?” Quentin asked.

“Unless the council authorities have already retrieved him, he’s in Ted’s cave. With a duergar the size of a Volkswagen blocking the entrance.” Tanner smiled shakily. “I need to let Hector know that his FTA app is awesome, although he may need to add a module for a much bigger tip.” Then Tanner glanced at Rusty. “But Cas gave me a message for you, Elm—Rusty. He’d, um, appreciate it if you’d get your . . . self back to the lodge now.”

Mal leaned in to Quentin. “I’ll bet those weren’t his exact words. He said ‘arse,’ didn’t he? And threatened Rusty with bodily harm?”

Tanner waggled one hand. “But he did say that if you don’t, um, return, he’ll come down here and collect you himself.”

Rusty’s eyebrows snapped together. “He can’t— Doesn’t he know— What is he— We’re supposed to be— Gah!”

“He also told me if you said something like that, to remind you to use your words.” Tanner grimaced. “Sorry?”

“Urgh.” Rusty shouldered his sledgehammer and almost sprinted toward the lodge.

Down by the lake, one of the wolves—Jordan by the coltish build and the black blaze on his flank—started after Rusty, his tail waving.

“Jordan!” Chase called. “No butt-sniffing!” Jordan swerved and trotted back toward the cabin, his tail between his legs. Chase cast an apologetic glance at Mal. “I think Rusty may have supplanted you as Jordan’s latest hero-crush. Which is probably a good thing for you, but not so much for Rusty.”

“I’ll bear up under the defection,” Mal said with a grin. “And I’ll leave Cas to handle the puppy-love.”

Tanner stumbled forward, catching himself on Chase’s arm when something bumped into the back of his knees. He turned to find Jordan, still in wolf form, gazing up at him with wide happy eyes. He wagged his tail once, then dropped something on the path—something that glinted green-gold in the sunlight and rolled down the slight incline toward Tanner’s bare toes.

“Shite!” Mal shouted and grabbed Tanner around the waist, lifting him off the ground before the signet could come in contact with his skin. He set Tanner down at a safe distance. “Sorry, mate. But the last thing we need right now is another golem melee.”

Tanner shuddered. “No apology necessary.”

Quentin bent down and retrieved the signet. “Damn. This thing has the most repulsive aura I’ve ever seen.” He glanced at Tanner. “Did you ever put it on?”

“No.” Tanner edged closer to Chase, needing his comforting warmth. “I didn’t want to face being the pack alpha.” He stared down at his toes, once again the worse for running through the woods. “I was shirking my responsibilities.”

“Shirking nothing.” Quentin pulled a linen handkerchief out of his tattered jacket’s pocket. “If you’d actually worn this, you’d probably have turned suicidal and welcomed death-by-mudslide.”

Death by mudslide. “There’s something else.” Tanner squared his shoulders. “I don’t think the curse was directed only at me. I think Unc— I think Patrick used it first to kill my father. Only it got my mother too.”

Quentin met Tanner’s gaze somberly and gave a brief nod. “Thank you for the information, Tanner.” He wrapped the ring in the handkerchief. “I’ll turn this over to the council, but if you could accompany me to preserve the chain of evidence, Mal, I’d appreciate it.”

“No worries, mate. I’m there.”

Quentin’s gaze softened. “Tanner, I’m afraid I have some more bad news for you. The decision to disband the Wallowa pack was handed down by the combined supe council this morning. That’s the case I was working on.”

Tanner swallowed. “Because of me?”

“No. It’s been coming for a while now. The pack is nearly bankrupt, and with so few members—”

“Bankrupt? But . . . but the new cars. Unc— Patrick’s clothes.”

Quentin smiled at him kindly. “That’s where the money went. But with the mills closing, there wasn’t any money coming in.”

Just then, Patrick emerged from the trees beyond the cabin. Tanner tensed, ready to fling himself between Chase and Patrick in case he’d somehow retrieved his gun, but then Tanner saw the other man looming behind him, one hand gripping the back of Patrick’s neck and the other hand holding a sword even bigger than Mal’s. The second man was Mal’s height, with the same dark hair, and though his shoulders were broader and his eyes hazel instead of Mal’s cobalt blue, it was clear that the two were related.

Tanner swallowed. The legendary Alun Kendrick. Dr. Kendrick. It was almost more intimidating to meet him than it was to face Patrick.

Almost.

Mal saluted his brother with two fingers touched to his forehead. “Brother.”

“Mal.” Dr. Kendrick’s voice was deeper, weightier than Mal’s, even in that single word. He nodded a greeting at the others.

“Finn,” Tanner blurted, carefully keeping his gaze averted from Patrick. “My cousin. Is he okay?”

Dr. Kendrick nodded. “The SMT team arrived right after I did, and they’ve transported him to United Memorial. My husband, David”—there was no mistaking the pride in his voice—“will meet them there and assist with treatment.” His gaze, resting on Tanner, was reassuring, for all he was far more serious than Mal ever was. “You needn’t worry. David is an achubydd.”

“A supe healer? But I thought they were extinct.”

Dr. Kendrick’s expression darkened. “He is the only one left. But he’ll save your friend if anyone can.”

“Thank you.” Tanner turned halfway away. Still in avoidance. Very mature.

Chase rubbed his hand up and down Tanner’s spine. “It’s okay if you don’t want to face him.”

Tanner looked into Chase’s eyes and didn’t see a trace of scorn or blame. That acceptance more than anything gave Tanner the courage he needed. He straightened his shoulders, then nodded and turned back, facing Patrick squarely.

“Why?”

Patrick sneered, the expression still jarring since Tanner had never seen it on his face before today. “Why? Because the pack is mine. I’ve led it since before you were born, since your father couldn’t be bothered. Too busy sniffing after my sister and trying to forge alliances with other packs when he should have been annexing them instead. You didn’t deserve to be the alpha.”

“Why didn’t you simply ask, Patrick? I would have abdicated. I never wanted the leadership. I don’t even want to live there.”

“Nonsense. A were’s status, his power, his identity are all tied up in his pack. It’s tradition. And then my fool of a sister had to shackle herself to a nothing alpha in the sticks of eastern Oregon when she could have mated a pack second in King County and had the run of Seattle.”

Chase’s hand stilled on Tanner’s back. “Would you have gifted him a cursed signet too? Staged a coup in Seattle the way you tried in Imnaha?”

“At least it would have been worth it!”

“So killing my parents wasn’t worth it? Killing me wouldn’t have been worth it?”

“Not yet. But I’d have made it worth it. I’ve got plans—”

“Enough,” Dr. Kendrick growled. “You have no plans anymore. You’ll answer to the pack council for your attempts to usurp power not due you, and to the supe council for murder and attempted murder.” He looked at Quentin. “Quentin, if you’ll accompany me?”

“Of course. I have the evidence to log as well.” Quentin turned to Tanner and Chase. “Please make yourselves at home. When Ted finishes playing with the pups, reassure him that I’ll return in time to don a”—he flicked his tattered jacket—“less ventilated suit in time for the wedding.” He furled his wings and flanked Dr. Kendrick as the two of them marched Patrick into the trees and—hopefully—out of Tanner’s life for good.