“If you’re part of the head Wolf family,” Logan says, suddenly more interested in the conversation, “and I would say you most certainly are a close relative, given your resemblance to your Family members and the access to the information you just traded. If that’s the case, you should already know half of what I just told you. But you don’t, do you?”

“Now I believe you’re wasting our time,” Ash says, and removes his arm from where he was leaning against the workbench.

“Which means you must be out of society…maybe at school?” Logan’s eyes brighten. “And what I want to know is, what are two Academy brats doing trading with me?” The strange thing is, he doesn’t look at Ash when he speaks, but instead keeps his eyes trained on me. His voice has shifted from its aggressive clip to a smooth cadence; he actually appears to be enjoying himself. His posture has relaxed, and as he flips his shaggy hair out of his eyes, I can almost picture him in clean clothes, schmoozing at a cocktail party. And charming Logan is way more terrifying than disgruntled Logan.

“I wouldn’t congratulate yourself for surmising that we’re young,” Ash says, not missing a beat and seemingly not put off by Logan’s prying. “That’s nothing a person with average eyesight wouldn’t pick up.”

“I’m not asking you,” Logan says. “I’m asking her.” His eyes focus on me so intently that my skin crawls, and I hope he can’t tell.

“Ask anything you want,” I say with my best Layla-like composure. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to answer you.”

“Mmmm. Right,” Logan says, never moving from the spot where he was working; yet somehow I can’t help but feel like he’s cornered me. “A Wolf pup and a Bear cub looking for Christopher Shawe. If I were less perceptive I might simply assume you were after the bounty. But no, I don’t think that’s quite accurate. Is it?” His last words come out with force, like he already knows the answer.

Shawe? A wave of disorientation hits me and I rack my brain. Shawe is Middle English for someone who lives near the woods or a thicket, which is the exact opposite of our last name—or what I thought was our last name. Adley means “clearing.” Did my parents choose it on purpose to separate themselves from their Families?

Ash nods toward the door and I snap back into the moment, taking a few fast steps in the direction of the exit.

Logan whistles long and loud, and before we’ve made it ten feet, four large Dobermans appear at the barn door. Oh crap. I look back at Logan, who’s still staring at me.

“This is personal,” he says, scanning my face. Logan doesn’t bother phrasing his assumption like a question. “And it’s not about revenge.”