I followed Jenks down the shallow step to sit at the couch, farthest in, barking out a derisive, “Hurry up with that first-aid kit,” when the driver hustled everyone out.

He hefted his rifle in a show of aggression, and I gave him a simpering smile. “Right,” I said, flopping on the couch and stretching my arms out along the top of it. “You’re going to plug me in your boss’s living room and get blood all over his carpet because I was snippy. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of carpet? Be a good little pup and do what you’re told.”

Jenks fidgeted, and the man flashed red, his jaw muscles clenching. “You keep backing into your corner,” he said as he lowered his weapon. “When it comes to it, I’ll be there.”

“Whatever.” I looked at the ceiling, baring my already bruised throat to him though my gut twisted. With Weres, your rank determined how you were treated, and I wanted to be treated well. So I was going to be a bitch in more than one definition of the word.

I never heard him leave, but I let out my held breath when Jenks relaxed. “He’s gone?” I whispered, and he made an exasperated face.

“Tink’s panties, Rache,” he said, sitting on the edge of the couch beside me and putting his elbow on his knee. “That was rash even for you.”

I brought my head back down to look at him. Surrounded by carpet and walls, I could smell the lake on me, and I ran a hand through my tangled damp curls, getting my fingers stuck. I thought about pushing his elbow off his knee, but didn’t since he was still bleeding. Instead I sat up and reached for the bandage pressed against his head.

“Don’t,” he said, sounding frantic as he drew back.

Lips pursed, I glared about the room at the unseen cameras. “Where’s my damn first-aid kit!” I shouted. “Someone better bring me my kit, or I’m going to get pissed!”

“Rache,” Jenks protested. “I don’t want to see the pit. It smelled awful.”

Seeing his worry, I tried to smile. “Believe me, I’m trying to stay out of it. But if we act like prey, they’ll treat us like a wounded antelope. You’ve watched Animal Planet, right?”

We both looked up when a small girl dressed in jeans and a sweater came in from the room’s only door. She had a tackle box in her hand, and she silently set it on the table before Jenks and me. Not meeting our eyes, she backed three steps away before turning around.

“Thank you,” I said. Never stopping, she looked over her shoulder, clearly surprised.

“You’re welcome,” she said, stumbling on the step up out of the sunken area. Her ears went red, and I guessed she was no more than thirteen. Life was good in a traditional Were pack if you were on top, crap if you were on the bottom, and I wondered where she fit in.