He rounded the table, reading the other names at the table—Stefan Uccello, Larry Sethaway, and Austin Harris.

“Matt, here’s your seat,” he said, keeping his voice kind because the other wolf didn’t deserve the sharpness of the sudden, possessive bite of an Alpha wolf who feels like someone is trying to take his pack away from him. It wasn’t just that Bonarata had known Matthew Smith’s name—it was that he had surrounded the vulnerable wolf with the people Adam would have put around him: Stefan for strength, Harris for familiarity, and Larry because no one would expect him to be as dangerous as he was. He’d have weighed replacing Larry with Honey, but the two goblins would be more likely to fight well together.

Bonarata had done him a favor, and it drove his wolf wild because of the impertinence of it—presuming to make decisions that belonged to Adam. Protecting his people was his job. Or maybe he was overreacting because he didn’t know where Mercy was. Probably he was overreacting.

The copilot sat down in the chair Adam had indicated for him. He put a hand on Adam’s knee and asked, “Trouble?” in a low voice that wouldn’t carry, even to the ears in the room.

This wolf was the only person besides Honey in the room whom Adam’s wolf did not view as prey or possible threat. The touch on his knee steadied him as nothing else could have in that moment. Adam had a job to do—and that job did not include playing stupid games with an ancient vampire.

He took a breath and nodded to the other wolf. “Thank you,” he said.

The copilot dropped his eyes and bowed his shoulders to look smaller than he was—and he wasn’t a big man. “Glad to be of use,” he told Adam.

Feeling more in control—though he supposed he wouldn’t be back to normal until he had Mercy back safe—Adam patted the wolf on the shoulder in thanks, and when Harris found his way to his seat, he left him in good hands.

He checked on Elizaveta and Honey, both of whom were sitting surrounded by vampires. Elizaveta was flirting gently in Russian with a vampire who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Honey ignored her table companions, who were not only vampires but also women. Instead, she kept watch on the table where Matthew Smith and Harris were. It would have been rude, but the other occupants of her table were busy ignoring her pointedly, too. He just bet Honey’s tender feelings were hurt—he hid his inner smile. Honey was as tough-minded as any werewolf he knew.

There were, by his count, sixty people in the room, not including the waitstaff. Adam’s small pack was vastly outnumbered. That was probably not an accident. Some of the guests were human. A few were other, people who were magical but fit poorly into established categories.

Adam was mostly intrigued by the people he didn’t see. Bonarata had Lenka, the werewolf he had enslaved. But she wasn’t the only nonvampire Bonarata had in his arsenal. He’d had a powerful witch at one time, though she seemed to be missing—but there were others in his hire now. The only werewolves in the room were in Adam’s party—and Elizaveta was the only witch.