Curran grimaced. “No, it never crossed my mind that you’d be with Dagfinn. He’s an undisciplined idiot. Give me some credit. I know you better than that.”

I shrugged and leaned closer against him. “This is fucked up.”

“Yes, it is. Can you think of any other way to find Ivar?”

“No. Maybe Doolittle can try removing the collar during tech?”

Curran shook his head. “I asked. He says it will kill the boy. He says we have thirty-six to forty-eight hours, depending on how long the magic lasts. There is a good chance the next magic wave will be the boy’s last.”

Two days before Roderick with his owlish eyes died, choked to death.

“Do you remember a few years ago a detachment of PAD disappeared? Eleven cops, armed to the teeth? It was in the papers?”

“Yes.”

“That was Håkon.”

“Is that his name?”

I nodded. “I didn’t say it in front of Dagfinn so he wouldn’t freak out. Whoever we take will die. If we don’t take anybody, the boy will die.”

“We explain it and ask for volunteers.” Curran drew me closer. “Those are the choices we make.”

“I’m tired of those lousy choices.” If you put all the people I’d killed together, their blood would make a lake. I was wading through it and I had no desire to make it any deeper.

We sat next to each other, touching.

If Curran asked for volunteers, the Pack would cough some up. I would have to look at their faces, I would witness their deaths, and then I would have to tell their families about it, assuming I survived. Assuming Curran survived.

The thought pissed me off. We’d do it. There was a child on the other end of that equation, so yes, we would grit our teeth and do it. But it made me so mad. I could’ve strangled Aurellia if I got my hands on her. She knew what the collar did, and she had deliberately chosen between her husband and her son.

“Can Håkon be killed?” Curran asked.

“No. The Cherokees have tried for years. All they can do is contain him on that hill. If he’s destroyed, he just reassembles himself.” I growled. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I know,” he said.

“Do you think less of me?”

“No.” Curran stroked my back. “Like I said, these are the choices we make, and sometimes every choice is bad, and then you sit by yourself and remember all the horrible shit you had to do and have done, and you deal with it. It will eat you alive if you let it.”

I straightened and touched his cheek. “Well, you don’t have to sit by yourself anymore. We’ll sit together.”