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Sometimes, it’s like I’ve never met him. “Sneaking around with old ladies behind my back?”

“It’s what I do in my downtime. What can I say? I get lonely while you’re busy tripping over your tongue, following Lili around.”

The fact is, Forrest is a hell of a lot more serious and thoughtful than I give him credit for. Even more than he gives himself credit for, really. I don’t know what it is, why he needs to hide that part of himself from the world. It hadn’t occurred to me to reach out to the white witches, but he went ahead and did it anyway.

I want to ask him if the older pack members plan to work in shifts? Or if we might need to recruit more allies to search the old texts, but a surprising sight stops me in my tracks on entering the center. Forrest doesn’t notice right away, taking a few steps before realizing I’ve stopped.

Then he sees him—rather, them, Dad and Benedict standing together, both of them clearly waiting for us. Neither of them looks pleased.

“What the fuck?” Forrest whispers.

“I’ll tell you what the fuck,” Dad grunts. “Before you send your men on a suicide mission, we need to talk.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Forrest insists when I shoot him a look. It’s like being kids again, with Dad discovering our stupid, childish plots to go behind his back and stir shit up.

“You didn’t have to,” Dad informs him. “What, you think I don’t have ears everywhere? I know exactly what you’re planning, and it can’t be done.”

“Why not?” I know I sound like a child asking why they have to go to bed at a certain time, but I’m put out knowing none of this was a secret. This is what my wolf needs to avenge her. I would think the alpha would understand that.

“That’s why we’re here,” Dad informs me. “Benedict came to tell me in person.”

“The witches are after Lili.” Benedict looks like he might have aged a decade or two in the few days since I last saw him. When he was so determined to kill me. “That arrow was no accident. It wasn’t a matter of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was intended for her.”

The grim certainty in his voice is enough to make my blood run cold. “And how would you know that?”

“It’s another reason why I didn’t want her to be here.” It’s like the man doesn’t hear me, going off on his own little rant. “I knew this was a mistake. That putting her closer to them would mean putting her in worse danger.”

“Why would she be in danger?” Forrest demands. “Out with it, already.”

Rather than remind him who he’s speaking to, Benedict casts a sorrowful look at Forrest before turning his gaze to me. “Lili’s mother was the most powerful witch born in her generation.”

33

LILI

“Are you sure they let you do this inside?”

“All the time!” Bryson, one of the older boys, tosses the scarred softball in the air and catches it deftly without looking. “And they don’t want us hanging around outside in case—”

“I understand that.” We are in mixed company, and the little ones don’t need to hear about the threat of an invasion. When I agreed—happily—to help out with keeping the orphan pups safe and busy, it didn’t occur to me that a big part of the challenge would be keeping them occupied indoors. It’s for the best. I wouldn’t feel completely safe letting them wander the grounds just in case something happens, and I can’t gather them together quickly enough. As far as I know, the witches have never gotten this far into pack territory, but it’s still not worth taking a chance. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to one of them, and I’ve only been with them for a few days.

“Wanna see how fast I can throw?” he asks.

“Just be careful.” I look over at Kyle, waiting for a pitch. “And, you know, try not to break anything.”

He swings his bat, grinning with this sort of cocky confidence that tells me he has no intention of pulling his swing when the ball comes his way. “I never try to break anything. Sometimes, it just happens.”

What do you do with a kid like that? I can only laugh, shaking my head as I back away and make sure the little ones don’t stray too close. “Okay. Let’s see what you can do.”

Bryson throws the soft ball, and it’s like the ball leaps away from the bat on contact, sailing through the air. I watch with my heart in my throat as the ball lifts, lifts, and finally gets stuck up in the metal auditorium rafters.

“Wow!” I call out, cheering along with the little ones. They’re all in wide-eyed awe of their hero.

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