There were no obvious signs of warfare when we pulled up to the curb, no sounds of battle when we climbed out and into the welcoming arms of Delicious Meat Smells. We walked in through one of the open garage doors, where shifters worked on cars and bikes and weight racks had been installed so Pack members could work out when the weather was warm enough. Which, for them, was most of the time.

There were only a couple of shifters in there now, which was unusual. Connor nodded at them, and they watched warily as I followed him through the maze of vehicles and rolling stools and car parts (a transmission, maybe?) and into the building proper.

We heard noise coming from the sticky-floored bar, but not the usual thump of grinding rock. This sounded more like an argument.

A good, old-fashioned shifter fight? Yes, please. Vast improvement over ghostly hands.

“Ready?” Connor asked.

“Right behind you,” I said, and brushed my fingertips against his.

He pushed open the door and paused in the doorway until all heads had turned to him and the music was turned down.

There were a lot of heads—forty or fifty shifters, including some of Connor’s uncles and his dad, Gabriel Keene, the Apex of the North American Central Pack. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair, tan skin, and golden eyes. And the magic that dripped from him was undeniably unfriendly.

Fortunately, I found two allies in the crowd.

Alexei Breckenridge was Connor’s best friend and a generally quiet shifter with a giant crush on Lulu. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with pale skin, hazel eyes, and dark blond hair that was short and carefully styled. “Stoic” seemed to fit him best, except when it came to food and his apparently never-ending hunger.

Beside him stood Daniel Liu, a Packmate and notorious flirt. He met my gaze, gave me a wink, then pushed his straight, dark shoulder-length hair behind his ears. He’d acted as my security while vampires had been stalking me and wasn’t easily perturbed. He had light brown skin, dark eyes, and cheekbones models would weep for.

There was at least one obvious enemy—a shifter named Miranda with a giant grudge against vampires and particular hatred of me. We’d arranged a temporary truce, or so I believed, since I had some dirt she didn’t want revealed. Her expression was grim but not, I thought, directed at me.

Monster waited quietly by, taking in the magic and the tension.

“Connor,” his dad said, and the crowd parted to let us walk through. I felt Alexei and Dan move through the crowd to take positions at our backs and appreciated the sentiment.

The focus of attention was a trio who stood in the middle of the room. The man in front had suntanned skin, cropped dark hair, and a face that was ruggedly handsome. The “rugged” coming from a scar on his square jaw and a previously broken nose. He wore jeans over scarred cowboy boots, a gray T-shirt with a darker graphic, and a well-worn leather jacket.