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“Do me a favor,” he said, taking my hand. He still wore boots, and I was in socked feet, which made him even taller than usual.
“Okay,” I said, looking up at him. “What?”
He smiled. “Work here for the rest of the night.”
I frowned at him. “Why?”
“Because she’s going to be pissed, which makes the world a dangerous place. Have the team come over here if you want. But I’ll feel better if you’re here.” He kissed me softly, just a brushing of lips. “If you’re safe.”
I made a show of sighing haggardly, even though I was fine with working in comfy pants and thick socks for the rest of the night. “Fine,” I said. “But I want food.”
***
I got Roger’s okay to work remotely, a pepperoni pie and accompanying pan of brownies, and Theo’s and Petra’s declinations. They opted to stay at the office, as they thought they’d concentrate better in that environment.
By the time dawn was close, the dinner table was littered with blood and soda bottles, empty pizza boxes, and discarded crusts.
We ate while we worked. Lulu and Alexei searched her books, made notes, discussed quietly. I searched websites, news clips, anything that might show me a clear image of Rose’s hand flick. Connor was a gamer and knew more about the underground web than me, so he searched those portals.
At fifteen minutes before dawn, with the house quiet, I’d gone down to get a drink when my screen buzzed. There was no caller identification.
“Elisa,” I said, answering it.
“It’s Miranda. We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Connor and the assholes.”
“Worst band name ever,” I muttered, and slipped out of the kitchen. I walked into the conservatory at the back of the house, then into the cool night air. I needed a moment in the darkness. “You have five minutes,” I said, lifting the screen up again. “We’re on a little bit of a deadline here.”
“I know,” she said, with no trace of sarcasm. “It’s about that. Connor has to agree to the challenge.”
“Then you should tell him that.”
“He won’t listen to me. But he might listen to you.” And it sounded like actual hurt in her voice at that admission.
“He understands the issues,” I said. “We’ve talked about it. And he’s trying to find an option that doesn’t screw the family or the Pack.”
She went quiet for a second. “He’s not afraid to fight, is he?”
I didn’t know what it cost a shifter—supernaturals known for their bravado and eagerness to rumble—to ask that question. It made me nervous, but I couldn’t show that to her. If she was calling me, she needed something else. She needed bravado.
“Has he ever been afraid to fight?” I asked, voice flat.
There was gravity in the silence that followed. “He’s an alpha and he’s strong,” Miranda said. “But I don’t know this Cade, and I haven’t been able to dig up much on him. It’s just—would they have come all this way if they didn’t think they could win?”
“Yeah,” I said. “They’re shifters. They think they can beat anyone.”
“I don’t mean that,” she said. “I mean... it might not be a clean challenge.”
It took me a moment to grasp her implication. “You think they’re going to cheat?”
“I’m not accusing anyone of that,” she said, as if it was the basest insult. “But I think you need to be careful. If you really care about him, and you really support him, then you have to have his back.”
I heard the fear in her voice, and it scared me to my bones.
“I do and will,” I said. “Tell anyone in the Pack who needs to hear it—they try to play dirty, and they meet my sword.”
