He had abandoned me twice. First when he sent me away because Samuel wanted me. Samuel was nearly as old as Bran, who is older than dirt, and I’d been sixteen. Bran could have sent Samuel away—but Samuel was his son, and I was only an annoying stray. It had taken an Adam to make me trust people again. The second time Bran had abandoned me was worse, because it was the second time. He’d cut his ties to my pack, for all the right reasons—and it had felt just as bad as it had when I was sixteen, only I felt stupider.

And then he’d risked everything he believed in—because if Bonarata had known who Matt Smith really was, all hell would have broken loose—to help Adam rescue me. He’d risked war between the werewolves and the vampires to keep me safe.

Carefully I said, “Thank you for coming after me.”

“You rescued yourself,” he said. “I should have stayed home.”

Adam laughed. “I’d have been in trouble if you hadn’t been there. And why do you think Libor was so cooperative? If it had just been me, we’d have had to fight it out before he agreed to go hunt down Mary’s seethe—I know his type.”

I sat up and looked at Bran while my body was warmed by Adam. “What did you do to Zack that made his father hate you so much?” I paused. “I think his birth name is Radim, right?”

“Zack?” said Adam.

Bran made a Bran sound. “Radim. Poor Radim. I can’t tell you the details. Let’s just say that being a submissive in Libor’s pack would not be something I’d wish on my worst enemy. Particularly if, as in Radim’s case, he was Libor’s son.” He tapped a finger on the top of his empty soda can. “I might have kidnapped him,” he said finally.

“Okay,” I said, and settled back against Adam.

“No wonder Zack doesn’t like you,” Adam said.

“That’s a different story,” Bran said. “You’ll have to ask him.”

We watched the rest of the movie without talking. When it was over, Bran said, “I love you.”

I said, “I know.” Adam nudged me with his shoulder, and I laughed. “I love you, too.”

—

WE TURNED DOWN OUR STREET JUST AFTER DARK. THAT made it easy to see the flashing lights of the fire department trucks. Adam didn’t say anything, but he put his foot down on the gas pedal.

We parked on the lawn to avoid blocking the driveway for the fire trucks. The garage roof was a blackened ruin, and there was at least one wall that was a burned wreck. The whole house and yard were soggy with water. I could smell char and burnt things, but I couldn’t see anything burning. People—werewolves and firemen for the most part—were wandering all over the place.

In the bustle and hum, no one noticed us except Aiden, because everyone else was focused on the garage.

He had his arms crossed and a militant expression on his face as he marched up to us.