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Mrs. Fletcher folded the towel over one arm. “What did they do?”

Aaron looked at me.

I nodded.

He swallowed. “We put fake animal traps near your driveway.”

Both parents went still. Mr. Fletcher’s attention shifted fully to him. “What?”

“They weren’t real traps,” Aaron said quickly. “They were boxes with springs and strings, and they snapped shut and made noise. We put signs on them.”

“What signs?”

Aaron glanced toward the twins.

Nobody helped him.

“One said bear containment unit.”

Mrs. Fletcher closed her eyes.

“The other said nuisance removal,” one twin added.

Her eyes snapped open.

The girl gathered the last loose block and left the room without being told.

Mr. Fletcher’s hands closed at his sides. “Why?”

Aaron looked at the floor. “We thought it was funny.”

“You thought suggesting my family needed to be trapped and removed was funny?”

“No,” Aaron said. “Not now.”

“Not now?”

“We didn’t think about what it meant.”

Mrs. Fletcher looked at me. “When did this happen?”

“Several days before the attack on our pack.”

Confusion crossed both their faces. “What attack?” Mr. Fletcher asked.

I explained everything. The broken glass. The modified smoke devices. The wolfsbane dispersed through Mom’s house and the neighboring home. The people who collapsed. Sloane entering both buildings and pulling everyone out.

Mrs. Fletcher sat heavily on the arm of the couch before I finished.

Mr. Fletcher stared at the boys. “You think our children did this?”

“We came to ask,” I said. “Not accuse.”

His attention returned to me. “You brought three preteens into my home because you think my teenagers filled a house with wolfsbane?”

“I brought them because their choices may have provoked retaliation. Whether your children were responsible or not, this has gone far beyond pranks.”

Mrs. Fletcher stood. “Nick!” The name carried through the house.