The door opened and the dead-eyed, dangerous Beta entered. He ran a quick appraisal over her and then went to switch the trays. “Your arm,” Jules grunted, “do you require pain relief?”

The absolute disinterest in the man’s expression made the question completely strange. Edging nearer, circling around to face the male, Claire tucked her hair behind her ear. “That would bely the effects of the punishment.”

Aware of what the Omega had done to earn such bruises, Jules mocked, “You believe that to be a punishment? I thought you were supposed to be clever.”

Cocking her head, Claire felt something odd in their exchange but could not put her finger on it. “You find Shepherd’s actions intriguing?”

“He was gentle with you.”

Looking down at her arm, at the black marring blotches, she frowned. “And here I thought you were supposed to be clever, Jules.”

The male was not interested in further communication and gave her his back.

Slipping the straps of her dress off her arms, she asked in a voice devoid of feeling, “Does this look gentle to you?”

Glancing over his shoulder at the woman decorated in the bruises of rough sex, Jules turned quickly to the wall and barked, “Put your dress back on!”

“This is what confuses me about the lot of you.” Claire continued, unmoved by his morality. “You won’t look because you find my nudity inappropriate, yet you created a city full of rape that you do not even blink an eye at. You are all walking contradictions.”

“You are my leader’s mate. PUT ON YOUR DRESS.”

It was strange to see the man who always appeared unaffected grow agitated. Smirking, Claire pulled the fabric over tender skin. “I think we both made our point.”

Once certain she was decent, the man leveled her with a glare that almost held the same power as Shepherd’s. “You are playing a very dangerous game.”

Standing her ground, Claire said, “Not everyone is playing a game. I am simply trying to communicate, and I do not speak your language.”

“You speak it better than you know.”

Was that actual praise? “Then speak to me. How old were your sons when you lost them?”

The man was not thrown by her sudden shift in the conversation. “Bertrand was four; Joseph just under a year.”

Claire smoothed her skirt, felt sadness. “Why were they killed?”

“My wife was Omega.” The sharpness of his gaze was frightening. “An Alpha wanted her. Before I even learned of what had happened, she had been pair-bonded to a friend of Premier Callas’. The same Alpha who’d murdered our boys.”

“What was her name?”

“Rebecca.”

Somehow she just knew, Claire whispering, “And you killed her when Shepherd led you from the Undercroft.”

“Yes, almost a decade ago—at her request.”