The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as the predatory alpha paced silently behind me. I could feel him there the same way I could feel the sun warming my face as I walked toward it. Only his presence was ice rather than heat.

  It would be so easy for him to reach out as I neared the edge, to give me the tiniest shove. I cringed every time I felt the shudder of the fire escape as he padded one step behind me all the way down.

  We leapt to the ground in perfect synchrony, him landing just as lightly as I did despite his muscular bulk. “Which way’s the car?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

  I must not have succeeded because Drake eyed me oddly. But he led me back to my vehicle, unlocked it, then motioned at the ruby resting on the foot well where I’d dropped it before leaping out.

  “We’ll come back for Kami later,” I answered his silent question. “For now, head to Rosa’s.”

  The silence in the car resembled too-bright-headlights cutting through the descending twilight. Blinding and at the same time illuminating. This was nothing like the comfort Drake and I sometimes took in being quiet alone together. This felt like riding with a stranger, one who didn’t have my best interests at heart.

  Drake parked in front of Rosa’s house and headed for the front door, the same way we always went in. “Our shoes are dirty,” I countered, gesturing around the side instead. “Let’s be polite and take them off on the back porch.”

  It was another test, not that I needed one. The claws of unease sinking into my skin told me I was right about this.

  Still, I waited, hoping I was wrong. The Drake I knew would have teased me, reminding me of the fact that Rosa had laid down the law weeks ago and demanded we drop all veneer of politeness. “If you’re sleeping under this roof,” she’d told us, “this is your home. Politeness is for strangers. You’re family now.”

  Rather than bringing up that point, Drake just nodded. Followed in my footsteps to where Seth waited by the back door.

  “Hey, would you mind dumping this mop water?” Seth asked as if he hadn’t filled the bucket when I texted and held it in preparation ever since. “Don’t want to put on my boots.”

  “No problem,” I answered. Grabbing the bucket, I sluiced the water directly over Drake’s head.

  Chapter 22

  Tru

  Drake and I stood face to face, alone in the night. Him dripping. Me on tenterhooks, not fumbling this time as I went for the weapon at my waist.

  I had no backup because Seth had retreated just like I’d ordered him to in that earlier text. He would have handcuffed Erik to the banister then sequestered Lynette and Rosa upstairs. The second floor was a defensible location with only one obvious entrance point, unless the attacker was agile enough to climb on fox feet that is.

  A chill spun through me as I considered Kami’s escape from that five-story building. If she could find her way down a sheer brick face, ascending the exterior of Rosa’s house would be a breeze.

  I had to trust Seth to know windows were a danger, however. Because a more pressing danger waited beneath the blade of my knife.

  No, I hadn’t counted on water alone to defuse whatever had turned Drake into not-quite-himself. Instead, I’d drawn a blade and was pushing his much larger body backwards, away from the house, step by awkward step.

  How many times now had we ended up like this? My weapon at his throat, his hands raised in surrender? Despite Drake’s height and bulk, he’d always allowed me to win the upper hand. Allowed being the operative word.

  This person wasn’t the Drake I trusted however. If he didn’t mind a scratch or two—and Drake never had minded a scratch or two—he could disarm me easily. Could wrap those huge hands around my throat, wrench the knife away as I weakened, then use it to threaten Lynette.

  I needed to put distance between us and the house, so I kept pressing the blade into his skin and not-quite-Drake kept walking backwards until his spine rammed up against the tall wooden fence at the extreme corner of the yard. We were past the glow of porch lights now, although I had no illusions that we were hidden from even human eyes given the residual glow of the city skyline. I wished I’d taken the time to tell Seth to keep Lynette and Rosa away from the windows, not just on the unlikely chance Kami had followed us here but because our ward wouldn’t understand this showdown between me and what appeared to be Drake.

  Pushing away that regret, I focused on the man in front of me. “You’re not Drake.”

  Those gray eyes, at once so familiar and so unfamiliar, seemed to twinkle. No, this wasn’t Drake. This was nothing like Drake.

  When he spoke, my suspicion was confirmed.

  “He told me you might figure it out.”

  Not-Drake’s voice was rich, deep. The way the man he mimicked might have sounded if a rasp hadn’t marred every word.

  Not-Drake’s mellifluousness should have soothed me. Instead, it set my teeth on edge. So I didn’t withdraw my blade as I continued the interrogation. “Who told you I’d figure it out?”

  “Drake, of course.” Not-Drake had a dimple on his left cheek that he used like a weapon, waiting a full beat before shrugging when I declined to swoon into his arms. “He recorded a video for you,” not-Drake continued. “It’s on my phone—well, his phone, really—in my jacket pocket. Assuming water damage hasn’t turned it into a brick.”

  “Handy excuse. How about you take out the phone and hand it over?”

  “If I lower my hand, do you intend to slit my throat the rest of the way?”

  I’d nicked his skin, it was true. And even though this wasn’t Drake, seeing the thin dark line exuding blood bit into my stomach like lupine teeth.

  My words were, perhaps, harsher as a result. “I’ve gotten worse cuts while shaving.”

  “Shaving where?” Not-Drake’s voice was a purr.

  “Phone,” I demanded, holding out my left hand. And he obeyed me. Reached into his front jacket pocket, which appeared to have turned into a watery reservoir. The phone, unsurprisingly, didn’t power up.

  “I can give you his number—my number,” not-Drake continued once it was clear his original proof wasn’t going to be forthcoming. “Call him. He’ll answer. He’s checking on India, but your call will take priority.”

  “And what will you be doing while my attention is focused on a screen? I’m sure you intend to stand there all polite and inoffensive.”

  “How about I tell you why my voice sounds nothing like my brother’s?”

  If he’d wanted to turn my attention away from the dread coursing through me, he couldn’t have come up with a better topic. “You aren’t brothers,” I countered. “You look too much alike.”

  Not-Drake shrugged. “Brothers. Twins. Same difference.”

  It wasn’t the same, though. Kami had appeared to be my twin until it became crystal clear she wasn’t. Drake’s brother I might have trusted. His supposed twin? Not so much.

  Still, not-Drake didn’t appear inclined to attack me even though he could have. And if he was telling the truth…

  Curiosity prompted me to take a step back and bring my dagger along with me. “Tell me about the rasp.”

  “First I’ll tell you my name. I’m Jack.”

  He held out his hand as if expecting me to shake it. But that was such an old trick. Tempt an unwitting opponent to drop her defensive stance then pull her off her feet.

  Instead of falling for it—literally—I dropped Jack’s inoperative cell phone into my pocket and drew out my own instead. Fumbling with the swap, I sidled further from the man whose dimple was trying and failing to make me ignore the prickle of danger that suffused my entire body whenever I looked at him.

  The chill of fear faded slightly as I made it far enough away so he couldn’t lunge and grab me. Without the wind that had cut through my clothes on the rooftop, in fact, it was surprisingly warm here. The pile of leaves behind my calves exuded residual daytime heat.

  “You want the number,” Jack murmured, “or the story?”

  He was closer than he should have been. I’d taken my eyes off him for one split second to unlock my phone and now he was back within arm’s reach. Only, this time, my dagger wasn’t as accessible. I’d tucked it between my arm and side so I could use both hands on the phone, Lynette’s lessons in thumb typing having flown straight out of my head.

  “Back up,” I demanded.

  To my surprise, he obeyed me. Or, well, he gave me distance, if not in the manner I’d suggested.

  Opening both arms out away from his body, Jack fell backward into the pile of leaves as if he was a child. Lynette had indulged in just this sort of behavior last week, which was why this leaf pile existed.

  A cascade of dead plant matter fluttered between us while Jack’s deep voice called up out of the maelstrom. “One, four, nine…”

  Numbers. He was, once again, giving me what I’d asked for.

  Exiting the leaf pile would result in an enormous rustling. So I felt safe enough to input the numbers Jack recited, to wait while the phone rang then went to voice mail.

  The musical tones of the man currently hiding in the middle of a leaf pile were piped directly from the phone speaker this time as a recording started. “Jack’s phone.” There was a smile in his voice I never heard so strongly in Drake’s as he continued. “Talk to the phone and I’ll be jealous.” The recording ended with a mechanical beep.

  “Huh.” The flesh-and-blood Jack sounded perplexed, and not by the leaves covering up his entire body. “I thought for sure he’d answer. He won’t stay away from you for long, though, and he’ll tell you in person when he gets back.”

  I prodded at the pile with one toe, not finding flesh. No, this strange predator hadn’t crept closer while I was occupied this time. “Are you going to stay in there?”

  “Seems safer.”

  “For you or for me?”

  Rather than answering, he changed the subject. “Sit down and I’ll tell you a story.”

  And so, not from Drake but from his brother, I learned about the origin of the rasp.

  Chapter 23

  Tru

  “Once upon a time,” Jack rumbled, “a bloodthirsty serial killer fathered an heir and a spare. Yes, I’m the spare. Drake’s the heir. Are your eyes closed?”

  Jack’s demand seemed harmless. The blanket of leaves acted like an alarm, ensuring I’d hear him if he tried to move closer. Still…

  “No,” I admitted as the silence lengthened.

  “Long night ahead if we’re going back out later to hunt Kami,” Jack observed. Then, before I could ask the obvious question—what had happened with Kami on that building?—he continued. “Long day behind us already. Close your eyes. Listen to the story.”

  And, despite myself, I felt my eyelids obeying him. In the resulting total darkness, I could almost see the events Jack regaled me with playing out.

  Twin brothers, one just a few minutes older than the other and more able to handle the harsh reality of life in the Executioner’s family. The other softer—“spineless,” Jack described himself.

  I couldn’t smell anything other than the earthy musk of fallen leaves attached to that statement, but I snorted. “That part’s a lie.” Jack didn’t have the same terror-inducing abilities as his twin, but he was far from spineless.

  “Who’s telling this story? You or me?”

  The teasing reply felt like Okaasan’s hug. Like Lynette’s smile when I bought the clothes she’d picked out for me. It also made me realize…

  “That was you in my bedroom last night, wasn’t it?”

  “First time it was me. Second time it was Drake, after I told him you begged for a kiss.”

  Electricity spun through me. So that’s why Drake—no, Jack—had evaded my advances. And that’s why the real Drake had seemed to thrum with something powerful when we spoke after my visit to the past.

  “You’re the secret he wouldn’t tell me about.” I worked out the puzzle as I spoke, mixing together what I’d seen from Jack today with that overheard conversation in the hallway when I was half asleep. “Drake helped you escape from the awfulness of your family. He keeps you a secret now for your own safety.”

  “Way to ruin my story.” He didn’t seem angry with me, though. More amused. I was starting to understand that Jack spent most of his life amused.

  I, on the other hand, spent a good portion of my life ferreting out incongruities. “Lynette told me you sometimes lose your voice, which means she’s met you multiple times before without ever guessing. Or did she guess? Is she in on this ploy?”

  A rustle of leaves that was likely a head shake was followed up by a single syllable. “Naw.”

  “Why drop the pretense now in front of me then?”

  “Scared for my life.”

  “Another lie. Last night, you said something about Drake being almost mated.” The final word caught in my throat like a sweet sucked on too hard then swallowed by mistake.

  “That was our promise.” For the first time, Jack’s more musical voice sounded almost exactly like his brother’s. “We’d tell no one except a mate. Which you are. His mate. My—” he cleared his throat “—my sister.”

  Liquid pooled behind my closed eyelids and I swiped it away. I wanted that. In this moment, I wanted so badly for Jack to be my brother. Even more for Drake to be here with his arm slung around my shoulders while I learned about his family connections.

  “Not quite,” I admitted. “You said he’s half mated. Which means I’m hurting Drake by not accepting him back.”

  “You don’t hurt him. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.” A more extensive rustle of leaves, but not as if Jack was creeping toward me. Instead, this felt like a man hitting the limit of his willingness to share emotions with his brother’s half-mate. “You still want to hear about the rasp? It’s not a pleasant bedtime story.”

  “And I’m not a child being tucked under the covers,” I reminded him. “Tell me the story and keep me awake long enough to catch Kami sleeping.”

  So Jack returned to the originally promised story, the story about being trained from birth by the previous Executioner. About a spare who couldn’t stomach blood and gore and an heir who took it upon himself to be twice as good at the tasks his father set in order to keep parental attention off his twin.

  “For every Executioner in training, there’s always a final test,” Jack murmured, his voice growing softer. It had been several minutes since the last car passed on the street. The houses around us had all fallen silent. Soon, it would be late enough to go back out hunting Kami.

  For now, I soaked up this formative tale from Drake’s past.

  “Our father tested Drake when he least expected it. Our sixteenth birthday party was perfect until the moment of testing. Just the four of us, playing silly games rather than drilling and sparring the way we usually did. It was dark like this but summer with fireflies and a bonfire. Drake was blindfolded—you ever play blind man’s bluff?”

  I knew this story had a dark ending, but I was starting to drift off, accepting that Jack was right about needing more rest before going hunting again. So I just hummed out a negative and Jack told me the rest.

  The game involved one person blinded by a folded and tied handkerchief, hunting others who stayed out of his reach. Their father had come up behind a sightless Drake with a length of rope—a garrote, the same item I’d found in his safe. The previous Executioner had strangled his own son, their mother tackling Jack when he tried to dive in and help his brother escape.

  Despite the blindfold, Drake had somehow managed to break himself free. He’d survived. Passed the test. But his vocal cords were damaged in the process.

  “Too slow.” Jack’s voice was so quiet I could barely hear it now. “Our father said Drake had been too slow to merit being taken to a doctor. So he didn’t get any treatment, ended up with a rasp that scares wrongdoers shitless. Probably Dear Old Dad’s point.”

  I shivered, the awful coldness of the brothers’ upbringing almost pulling me up out of the half doze I’d descended into. The fact Drake had kept that rope, that I’d touched it… I wanted nothing more than to return to the Strays’ village, open the safe, and burn the evidence of the previous Executioner’s terribleness into ash.

  But sweetness had returned to Jack’s voice and he lulled me effortlessly back to the edge of slumber. “That’s the day Drake decided to save me. He’d already started hiding away Strays, so he had no trouble faking one more death and creating a new life for me. I didn’t want to leave him in that hellhole, though. He had to force me to go, had to slap me with an alpha command that just barely overcame my muscles but worked in the end.

  “I was furious. By the time the command wore off, I didn’t even consider going back. Didn’t think through the way the Executioner’s spare always gets tested too, just in case.”

  There was nothing in the night except me and this story. The pain I felt for both Drake and for his brother. That combined with gratitude for being allowed to see behind the curtain that hid a wonderful man’s true self.

  “I wouldn’t have fought back as well as Drake did,” Jack murmured, voice so soft it felt like a brotherly hand stroking across fox fur. “I never learned those lessons. And Dad, Dad would’ve killed me. In the end, if the spare’s not worthy, there’s no real purpose in keeping him around.”

  So Drake had become the Executioner, protecting his Strays the way he’d protected his brother. It was a terrible story and a wonderful story. Drake’s personality in a nutshell—learning to be hard so he could safeguard those born soft.

  People like me, who hadn’t been ready to choose a mate yet. So Drake had protected me by not forcing the issue. He’d protected me by leaving this brother in charge while he checked on India. He’d protected me by…