"It was a long day. I'd forgotten how much you snored. And drooled," Cyrus said, casting me a sidelong glare.

"I forgot how much you exaggerated." I rubbed the corner of my mouth anyway, just in case he was right about the drool.

We limped out to the living room. Nathan looked like a man who'd rather be breaking someone's legs with a golf club. It was going to be a long night.

"What's going on?" I asked, sitting on the couch. When Cyrus sat beside me, I scooted away.

It didn't go unnoticed, by either of them. Jealousy hit me from both sides of the blood tie, for different reasons, and I had to consciously divert my focus to the task at hand.

To my relief, Nathan cut me off from the tie on his end. "I got a call from some Movement vampires in Canada. It seems Max and Bella were in a car accident. Max was okay, but Bella was in bad shape."

"Was?" Cyrus put his hand on my knee. Not possessively, though Nathan would probably see it that way.

I didn't brush it aside. "But they survived the crash?"

Nathan nodded. "As far as they knew. But they're not there anymore. They killed three Movement doctors and escaped. He left everything behind. Money, car, phone… there's no way to contact him."

"Why would they run from the Movement?" It didn't make any sense. Max was still an active member. He didn't have a mark on his head, like Nathan did. He wasn't even hanging out on the fringe like I was, waiting for someone to get the notion to pick off some nonthreatening vampires.

Nathan considered a moment, then held up his hands "I don't know. They think they had help."

"Help against the Movement? That doesn't sound promising. Who would help them against the Movement?" Cyrus said this without his trademark sarcasm. It was a good thing. Neither Nathan nor I would have appreciated it.

"They could have been kidnapped," I offered helpfully. "Like, maybe somebody took them?"

Nathan shook his head. "Who would be able to get a vampire and a half-crippled, pregnant werewolf out of a warehouse under heavy Movement guard?"

"Someone they trust," Cyrus said quietly, not looking at either of us.

"Excuse me?" Barely leashed rage swam beneath the surface of Nathan's too polite inquiry.

Cyrus looked up, first at him, then me, then back to Nathan. "If someone in the Movement that they trusted helped them, they might not have resisted."

"It's impossible." Nathan stood and turned away, raking a hand over his stubbled jaw. He looked as though he hadn't slept. "No, it's not possible."

"Consider the situation," Cyrus continued calmly. "You said they were heavily guarded. If someone wanted to get in or out, they would have to kill a lot more than three people."