“I’ll ask him,” I promised.

“See you,” he said, but continued in a rush. “Is Tuesday too soon?”

It was Saturday. If Samuel wasn’t better by Tuesday, I could cancel. “Tuesday would be really good.”

He hung up, and I asked Sam, “Can you teach me how to keep the pack out of my head?”

He made a sad noise.

“Not without being able to talk,” I agreed. “But I promised Adam I’d ask.” So I had three days to fix Samuel. And I felt like a traitor for… I hadn’t really lied to Adam, had I? Raised among werewolves, who are living lie detectors, I’d long ago learned to lie with the truth nearly as well as a fae.

Maybe I had time to make brownies, too.

My cell phone rang, and I almost just answered it, assuming it was Adam. Some instinct of self-preservation had me hesitate and glance at the number: Bran’s.

“The Marrok is calling,” I told Samuel. “Think he’ll wait three days? Me either.” But I could delay him a little by not answering the phone. “Let’s go work on some cars.”

SAM SAT IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND GAVE ME A sour look. He’d been mad at me since I put his collar on—but the collar was camouflage. It made him look more like a dog. Something domesticated enough for a collar, not a wild animal. Fear brings violence out in the wolves, so the fewer people who are scared of them, the better.

“I’m not going to roll the window down,” I told him. “This car doesn’t have automatic windows. I’d have to pull over and go around and lower it manually. Besides, it’s cold outside, and unlike you, I don’t have a fur coat.”

He lifted his lip in a mock snarl and put his nose down on the dashboard with a thump.

“You’re smearing the windshield,” I told him.

He looked at me and deliberately ran his nose across his side of the glass.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that was mature. The last time I saw someone do something that grown-up was when my little sister was twelve.”

AT THE GARAGE, I PARKED NEXT TO ZEE’S TRUCK, AND as soon as I got out of the car, I could hear the distinctive beat of salsa music. I have sensitive ears, so it was probably not loud enough to bother anyone in the little houses scattered among the warehouses and storage units that surrounded the garage. A little figure at the window waved at me.

I’d forgotten.

How could I have forgotten that Sylvia and her kids were going to be cleaning the office? Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been a problem—Samuel would never hurt a child, but we weren’t dealing with Samuel anymore.

I realized that I’d gotten used to him, that I was still thinking of him as though he was only Samuel with a problem. I’d let myself forget how dangerous he was. Then again, he hadn’t killed me yet.