As much as I dreaded the fallout and the anti-fae propaganda, Bessemer—and the pack—were entitled to know what prowled the woods alongside their children. “The truth.” I massaged the base of my neck and scowled at the silver wolf. “Now would be a great time for you to ditch the fur suit. This is beta business. You should be the one marching Emily home, and you should be the one talking to Bessemer. Not Dell.”

The wolf hung his head, and a low groan issued from his chest. Paws heavy, he loped into the trees and out of sight.

“Graeson,” I called. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay.” Dell touched my shoulder. “He’ll come around. Just give him some space.”

“I’m going home before I cause any more collateral damage.” Turning my back on the spot where Harlow had lurked, watching me and my family for days, raised gooseflesh down my arms. “Be careful, Dell. I mean it. If Bessemer wants his pound of flesh, send him to me.” The threat of a shift rode the rise of those chill bumps. “If he puts a hand on you, I’m going to bite it off.”

Behind her, Emily cocked her head at me. “Imogen says stuff like that.”

Thoughts mired on Graeson, I managed a real smile at the hope Bessemer’s latest bedmate might actually stick. “Sometimes it’s up to us girls to tell guys when they’re being silly.”

She digested that nugget of wisdom with a bob of her head.

I had to give the kid credit. She didn’t beg or cry or struggle as Dell marched her toward Silverback Lane. She wiped her nose and eyes with the backs of her hands, straightened her shoulders and went to face the music.

Isaac stepped beside me, and we trudged for home, his gaze sweeping the night. “Where’s the wolf?” He whistled. “Here, boy.”

“He’s not a pet,” I snapped without heat. “He’s a wild animal.”

“With the heart of a man.” He speared me with his gaze. “And the hots for my little cousin.”

A flush baked my face stiff and itchy. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”