He didn’t answer.

Eyes to the screen, he whispered, “It’s not done.” He swallowed and stared. “Those assholes are far from done.”

* * * * *

Delilah

Finally, Etienne was rattled.

“How—?” he began.

“Hello, Father,” Lucien greeted drolly.

“You—” Etienne tried again.

“We all dream,” Lucien informed him. “You didn’t know that, I’m certain, when you found a witch to invade Delilah’s dreams. And apparently, you weren’t aware we have our own witches.”

Etienne didn’t reply.

He squared his chin, his eyes fixed on his son. “I did not wish to take your head.”

“Really?” Lucien asked. “That’s interesting. I’ll have no trouble taking yours.”

Lucien.

Awesome.

I chanced taking my eyes off the action to grin at Leah, feeling a whole lot better that we were all here.

Together.

The Three.

Finally.

She took her own chance and grinned back at me.

We both looked ahead of us.

Callum glanced at the bodies littered around him, then back at Etienne. “One of us, and his human brothers,” he stated, meaning that was what Abel and the boys had wrought. “Do you yield?”

“We will never yield,” Etienne returned coolly.

“Shame,” Callum muttered.

“I don’t think so,” Abel put in. “I’ll enjoy takin’ more of these motherfuckers out.”

Etienne looked back to Lucien. “As my son, you have my vow. Your death will be quick.”

“As your son, you have my vow. Yours will not,” Lucien replied.

“So be it,” Etienne said softly, then called loudly. “Bring in the wolves!”

And then, from everywhere, all around, streaming past houses, through yards, down the street behind the legion of supernaturals in front of us, waves of wolves came running.

Waves.

Hundreds.

Callum and Abel leapt to wolf.

In a blink, Lucien was tossing what appeared to be the bottoms of mailboxes and the posts of street signs at Xun, Wei, and Chen.

“Guard them…your lives,” he ordered shortly.

“You got it,” Xun replied good-naturedly.

Lucien turned just in time for the wolves to close in.

* * * * *

Jian-Li

Jian-Li sat on the bed beside Delilah, her eyes to the two twitching, unconscious bodies lying in it.

She reached for Delilah’s hand. Keeping hold, she reached for Abel’s. Firmly, she curled their fingers around each other and held them tight in both her hands.

She closed her eyes and bent her head.

“You will be safe,” she whispered. “You will be safe,” she repeated. “You will live so you can be happy.”

She didn’t open her eyes and she didn’t let go of their hands.

She held them tight in hers.

And she hoped.

* * * * *

In a Café Somewhere in Nevada

“Those must be werewolves,” a man said, crowding close to the long counter where every stool was taken, behind them a huddle of bodies. The patrons and the waitresses were all gathered, their heads tipped back, their eyes on a TV suspended from the ceiling. “And fuck, there are a lot of ’em.”