Everything was quiet in town and people milled up and down the street like nothing was wrong. L’Ami’s outside wall was a large picture window that gave me a full view inside the teahouse. A few of the tables were occupied with people enjoying their meals.

Everything was fine. Totally normal.

I turned to him and shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Ehm. Could still be right. Either way, we’ll be keeping a closer eye on her. I just have to convince her to come stay with us at the stronghold.”

I was definitely going to let him handle that one.

Now that we knew that his mother was okay—due to the total lack of a fey monster—I had a second to regret my outfit choice. I was a little sweaty and definitely not at my best. This wasn’t how I wanted to meet Donovan’s mother.

“Come on. She won’t care what you look like.”

I glanced at him, still only in his sweatpants. “You might need something else to wear.”

He looked down as if he’d forgotten he was half-naked. “Let’s see what’s in the boot.”

Donovan opened the back to search while I leaned against the car. “I should talk to them about putting shoes in here,” Donovan said.

“I think I saw a shoe store down the street. Want me to grab you a pair?”

“Might have to.” He pulled on a shirt. “I can’t go in without them.”

“Okay. What size—?”

The sound of shattering glass stopped me cold.

What the hell was that? And did it just come from inside L’Ami?

I spun to Donovan. He was frozen, pulling a sweater over his head.

I moved first, closing the distance to L’Ami. Before I reached the door, I saw Bhrunyz walking through the teahouse. He swatted a chair out of his way so hard it came barreling at me through the glass door.

I ducked, but the chair leg caught the side of my face. Screams followed, chilling my blood.

Before I could leap through the mangled doorway, Donovan grabbed my arm, pulling me back. He jumped through first—shifting as he moved—but I was right behind him.

Bhrunyz was more than nine feet tall and smelled like peaches and death. The light glinted off his leathery black skin. For a second, I’d thought his arms were long, but I was wrong. They were actually short, barely reaching his hip. His long nails were what cut into the floor.

He loomed over an old woman. She sat facing death straight on without the slightest hint of fear. A few of the armchairs that once surrounded the lace-covered tables lay haphazardly on the floor, knocked over as humans rushed out through the kitchen.

Bhrunyz was focused on one target. He didn’t care about the rest. Only Donovan’s mother.