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Connor watched her for a moment, meeting her gaze directly until she looked away.
“What happened there?” she asked, gesturing to the shutters. Brow furrowed, she looked honestly confused and surprised at what she saw. “Did something hit it?”
“Something—someone—tried to pry it off,” Connor said.
She frowned. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Where do they want to talk to us?”
“The lodge.”
“Then let’s get this over with.”
***
We walked in silence. Maeve walked in front. I was behind Connor, gaze drilling into his back, as if that might tell me what he was thinking and feeling—and what I was supposed to be doing about it. The beefy shifters walked behind us, just in case we might make a run for it.
“A minute,” Connor said to Maeve when we reached the lodge. “I need a minute with Elisa.”
She looked at me, evaluated. “Two minutes. Come on, guys,” she said, and they all walked inside, let the door slam shut behind them.
“Fuck.” The word was a swear and an exhalation. He ran a hand through his hair.
“They’re going to confront us about Carlie.”
“At least.”
“You’re worried about what they might do?”
“I don’t get worried,” he said, voice snappish, then held up a hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m—not handling this well, either.”
“What aren’t you handling well? The monsters, the clan, or the fact that I assaulted someone you consider to be family?”
His face went hard, and my stomach roiled with nerves.
“I’m sorry,” I said. And when I was steady again: “I’m not handling it well, either.”
“We need to talk,” he said, voice as hard as his expression had been. “But not right now. Not until we deal with this. Let me take the lead.”
I looked at him, searched his face, but the mask was already in place. Angry and arrogant, and ready to face down whatever the clan put in front of us.
I understood battle, and I understood politics. But I liked one of those a lot more than the other. I wasn’t looking forward to this war of words. Words were often pointless, and politics just an irritating ego game. Give me a sword any day.
“We’ll talk,” Connor said again, then leaned forward. He put a hand at the back of my neck, rested his forehead against mine. “Whatever happens in there, I need you to trust me.”
It was a big ask, given our history, the fact that we hadn’t yet talked about what had happened last night. But these were his people, and this was his turf.
“Okay,” I said.
And then we walked inside.
***
Maeve waited inside the door. When she saw us, she turned on her heel—a soldier called to war—and headed for the stairs. We followed her, and the beef followed us. We went back up to the former ballroom, found the doors closed. But that didn’t stop the magic that spilled through the walls. Shifter. Vampire. Pack and coven.
Maeve gave a rhythmic knock—three, two, three—and the door opened. We walked inside. There were at least forty shifters in the room, along with a few vampires. It smelled of heat and animal, and the air practically vibrated with magic. And heady anticipation.
The shifter portion of the crowd was split neatly in half—young shifters on one side, older on the other. A nation divided.
