“You will.”

The blonde paced towards the window, checking for the twentieth time for a sign of trouble. “Goddamn you, Claire. Goddamn you and your pointless humanitarian bullshit. You always were a goody two-shoes when we were kids. It was disgusting then, and it’s even more pathetic now.”

“But I was never a pushover.” Claire took Maryanne’s arm, her expression one of desperation. “I am sorry, but I need you. I need the skills you have that I lack. If you do this for me, I will never bother you again.”

A deadly look came with the question. “Why not just ask your mate?”

“He’s the one who locked them up.” Claire pushed her hair behind her ear and stood her ground. “Like you, he’s blind to what is right and wrong.”

Maryanne cursed. She raged for hours, trying to talk Claire out of such madness, but the outcome was inevitable. Maryanne Cauley had no choice, and she knew it.

They fought over the plan vehemently. There was no time for reconnaissance, the pair blind to what may or may not be waiting. Diversion was one thing, but what Claire intended was insanity. But it could be done, Claire knew it in her bones. She could make it work. She had to, because if she did not give her all, risk everything, then nothing would change.

In the end, it was a shot in the dark at best… suicide at worst. But Claire, it seemed, had come to the right woman.

Maryanne Cauley knew the Undercroft—she knew entrances, she knew secrets—and though she refused to speak of why, it was obvious that once upon a time, Maryanne Cauley had been disposed of down in that dark place.

Shepherd’s mother was not the only woman thrown into hell.

At dawn, Claire was exhausted but determined. Maryanne swore up and down and yanked Claire to bed when the Omega would not stop yawning. Once under the covers, it was so simple to fall into old patterns, Maryanne braiding Claire’s hair just like she had when they were little.

Hoping the answer would not be as disappointing as she anticipated, Claire sighed, “The way you talk about the Undercroft, the look in your eye every time I say the name Shepherd… You know him.”

“Everyone knows him.”

No, it was much deeper than that. Claire rolled over to look her friend in the eye. “Don’t lie to me, Maryanne. He scares you. He scares you because you know him. Somehow you were once involved with that monster. Are you still?”

Maryanne tried to be flippant. “Involved? I should be asking you that same question. After all, your romance is probably going to get me killed.”

“I am not mated to Shepherd by choice.” Claire would not let herself blink or stutter. “I went into estrous unexpectedly in front of him. He forced the pair-bond.”