Grinning stupidly, Maryanne thought back on Claire’s taunts and the burning vehemence practically rising like flames from the giant. Maryanne would have paid good money to watch that show. If she wasn’t so anxious that Shepherd was going to rip the wall off the side of her den and come to fetch back his very unbalanced mate, she would have probably laughed at how perfectly Claire had owned him. She’d got her prisoners out, she’d stood alone against the Followers, she’d even threatened to kill herself and probably would have… simply to give the Omegas more time to follow through with the second half of the plan.

But Claire had always been a stubborn, sentimental fool.

A little fool who was clinging to her in sleep with a face so full of misery, Maryanne almost didn’t recognize her. Claire was ten kinds of messed up. It was more than the scrapes and bruises, or the gross state of her feet; it was something in her makeup. The Omega female stood like a marionette missing a few strings—not at all the spirited girl she had been when they were kids. A small part of Maryanne wanted to ask what had happened. The larger, more reasonable part, was determined to wash her hands of this trouble as soon as possible. Whatever was going on between Claire and Shepherd, whatever had caused Claire to provoke a man of his size and deadliness, Maryanne did not want to get dragged into it.

Defiled, manipulated, betrayed, and broken…

Well, that happened to everyone. Apparently it was just Claire’s turn. Threading her fingers into the tousled, sooty hair, Maryanne began to comb out the knots.

Claire pressed nearer, a whimper catching in her throat. “Shepherd…”

And that was the final reason Maryanne would not be able to keep her. Everything went back to that pair-bond. Claire might be fighting it, might be fueled by rage and pain, but eventually she would waver and crack. It was inevitable, a tie of souls or some such nonsense. So long as she was running wild, Shepherd would hunt her, be fixated on a rampage, and Maryanne was not going to get trampled when nothing would change the outcome. She didn’t owe Claire a damn thing; in fact, the way it looked now, Claire owed her.

Maryanne closed her eyes and cursed Shepherd to hell.

When she woke, there was no need to make a complicated decision regarding her lodger; Claire had made it for her. The little black-haired Omega was gone.

It was strange to walk through Thólos.

Claire may as well have been walking through the apocalypse. Everything she saw was far worse than the nightmare where the rabid pack was chasing her through the streets. Nothing seemed alive. No stores were open, no restaurants offered food. Buildings stood in shambles, broken glass and debris scattered about. Even bodies were left in the streets to freeze.