Nothing slipped past my father, which was why he made such an amazing alpha. Speaking of … I wondered who was running the shifter pack and council in Stratford. The leaders often left, but only for short periods of time. It would be a little sparse on the American Supernatural Council right now, since Stratford was also missing their magic leader. Kristoff was in Vanguard. Well, I hoped he was, he must have had his trial by now. Another thing I needed to talk with my parents about.

“I’ll come and find you after I talk to Misch,” I said. With a kiss on my forehead Jonathon let me go.

I caught Braxton’s eye as I turned to leave, and the heat in his gaze almost had me abandoning my plans and dragging him back to my room. I forced my hormones down, gave him a wink, and was relieved when he returned the gesture with a simple nod. He was working on his overly possessive temperament. Still, there was a battle going on behind his expressive eyes. For now he was trusting me.

“You call for us if there is any trouble, especially if the twins come back.” The low timbre of his voice rocked my girly parts, but I managed to nod without jumping him.

Something light and smooth slipped into my hand. I glanced down to find Louis had given me a small black cell phone. “Untraceable. We all have them. I programmed everyone’s numbers in there.”

I groaned. “You know I’m going to lose this in like five minutes, right?”

“Five?” Jacob muttered. “She’s probably already lost it.”

I stuck out my tongue, waving the phone and my middle finger at him. “Not yet, smartass.”

With laughter following me I hightailed it out of the food street. I had no idea where my sister was, but instinct was sending me toward our apartment building. I was going to check there first.

Cool and still inside the front hall of our residence, I threw the phone onto the kitchen bench and followed Mischa’s scent. She was all wolf and tears right now, a sort of distinct wet dog smell – kidding, wolves’ fur didn’t smell like dog’s.

I tried to figure out what I would say to her, how to offer comfort when I really just wanted to yell at her for being so stupid. I needed to work on the sympathy thing. I was getting worse with old age. I followed the sound of her sniffles into our bedroom.

The door was open so I walked straight in, only to almost bump into Mischa as she stood staring down at the beds which were still all over the place. She lifted her chin and turned to me.

“Looks a little like a battle went on in here,” she said, a trace of humor in her voice, which was much better than the tears still sprinkling her lashes.