“Whoa! Wait up,” I said, standing. “You’d let me walk out of here if I worked for Trent and was after your stinking statue, but you’re going to put me away if all I came for was Nick?”

Jenks groaned, and I froze when Walter and Pam looked to the truth amulet on the table. It shone a nice, friendly green. “And you knew it was a statue, how?” Walter said softly.

Crap on toast. Stupid, stupid witch. Now they wouldn’t stop until they found out about Jax. I knew Jenks’s thoughts were on a similar path when he jiggled on his feet, anxious.

“Find out what they know,” Walter said, and a wild look came over Jenks.

I fought to not move as someone put his hands on me, exerting a steadily growing pressure to fall into motion. Brett’s stocky figure eased into the archway, his expression clearly saying he thought they were making a mistake. “I’m not going to talk,” I said, shaking inside. “There isn’t a spell stirred that can make me saying anything, much less the truth.”

Walter favored me with a smile that showed his small teeth. “I wasn’t planning on using spells to make you talk. We have drugs for that,” he said, and I went cold. “Sparagmos has quite a resistance to them and we’ve since turned to older methods. He’s resisting those too, but maybe we can move him by hurting you. All he does is weep when we ask him where the statue is. Pam, will you supervise her interrogation? My ulcer acts up when I hurt a woman.”

He started for Brett and the archway, leaving Jenks and me with a room full of weapons. Frantic, I looked from Jenks to Walter standing by the door, giving a quiet set of instructions to Brett. I scanned the room as if for options, finding none.

“If she knows, someone else does too. Find out who,” Walter finished.

“Rache?” Jenks whispered, clearly tensed to move but waiting for me to give the word.

“I claim ascension,” I said, frightened. Oh God. Not again. Not on purpose.

Walter jerked, but it was Pam who spun, her dark hair furling with the motion and her lips parted, a surprised doll with red cheeks.

“I claim the right for pack ascension,” I said louder. I wasn’t about to fight her, but I could stall for time. Kisten would know something was wrong if I didn’t call him in three days. At that point I didn’t care if I had to be rescued or not. “I want three days to prepare. You can’t touch me,” I added for good measure.

Anger pulled Walter’s white eyebrows tight, and furrows lined his brow. “You can’t,” he said. “You aren’t a Were, and even if you were, you’d be nothing but a two-bite whore.”

Jenks didn’t relax, but he was listening, as was everyone in the room. Poised. Waiting.

“I can,” I said, shrugging out of the grip of whoever held me. “I do. My pack number is O-C(H) 93AF. And as an alpha, I can claim ascension over whomever in hell I want to. Look me up. I’m in the catalog.” Shaking, I gave Pam a shrug I hope she understood meant it was nothing personal. She looked at the bruises on my neck, her eyebrows rising but her thoughts unknown.