“I can tell that the pack is in chaos from our bonds, but how has everyone been fairing lately?” Donovan asked.

“It’s been a rough go. Those bloody Americans—”

I cleared my throat. I was okay sitting back while they caught up, but I wasn’t going to let Ian bash me and my friends.

“Sorry.”

“We did what we had to.”

I couldn’t apologize for what happened. Even if Ian was friendly toward me, I was new. If I started apologizing for my actions and defending myself, then it would set me up in a subordinate position. Until I had a solid place in the pack, I couldn’t let that happen.

Plus, as far as I knew, there wasn’t any way to turn back time. Not with bruja or fey magic, and definitely not with anything the packs had. What was done was done, and everyone was going to have to learn to live in the present. Apologizing for it now wouldn’t change a thing.

I caught Ian’s gaze in the review mirror before he glanced away. “That may be so, but you’ve managed to flip our world upside down. It’s a bit difficult since we didn’t have time to prepare.”

“But you knew it was going to happen soon,” Donovan said. “I’d been preparing the pack for years—”

“You know us. We think nothing’s going to change. Thought all that nonsense about coming out of hiding was just a bunch of talk.”

I snorted, and Donovan shot me a look. I wasn’t making this any easier.

“You might live out in the country, but not all packs do. If we hadn’t gotten caught on tape, someone else would’ve. And you can bet your ass they would’ve been doing something that made us look much worse than fighting a blood-hungry witch and her demon minions.”

“Aye. You’re probably right. It’s just hard to come to terms with. A lot has changed for us old wolves.”

“Hmm.” It was impossible to know how old Ian was from his appearance, but even since I’d been alive, the world had gotten closer to science fiction than most could’ve imagined.

Don’t let Ian get to you. He’s cranky about everything, but he’ll get over it, Donovan said through the bond.

He’s not the only one who’s going to be mad about the “bloody Americans.”

“You’re not wrong.”

You sure you don’t want to go back home? It’s not too late. I can call the backup pilot and have the plane readied.

No! Your mess is mine. I’m in. No backing out now.

Ian coughed, interrupting our conversation. “I’m sorry, but it seems like you’re talking through your bond?”

“Yes.”

“But that means—”

“Yes.”

“Feck. I’m going to have to call Killian and see if he’ll let me change my bet. This is going to get very interesting, very fast.”

“I imagine it will,” Donovan said. “And I’d advise not betting against my true mate.”

Ian started rambling in Irish, and I leaned my head against the window’s cool glass, staring out at the green countryside as we left Dublin. Something brushed against my knee. Donovan was reaching back for me. I grasped his hand.