The bell on the door jingled as it opened. I tensed to rise, but Ayra’s hand on my arm stopped me. Right, rising to someone else’s level meant showing you thought they were a threat, something to worry about. Some days it felt like I’d never get used to this werewolf stuff. Agent Benally’s gaze scanned the room before falling on us. She and Detective Sandalius nodded at each other in some weird cop sort of sisterhood thing. Behind the counter, Brian the barista’s eyes went wide as his nostrils flared, no doubt taking in the scent of a coyote shifter. I’d warned him, but his reaction told me this was the first ma’ii he’d encountered. That, or IIA agents made him as nervous as they did me.

  Inclining her head politely to Brian, Benally made her way to our table. When she paused, Ayra indicated the chair opposite the table from us with a flourish of her hand. Benally sat down.

  “You’ve found your mother?” she asked.

  Out of fear of her not coming if she knew it was unrelated to her case, I hadn’t told her why I needed to see her.

  “No,” I admitted.

  She pursed her lips and squinted one eye at me. “Okay,” she said, drawing the word out. “What information is it you have for me then?”

  “A shifter sex trafficking ring.”

  Eyes widening, her gaze traveled between Ayra, Elexis, and me before she leaned her elbows onto the table. “That sounds crazy.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you over the phone.” I blew out a breath. “That, and I didn’t know if I could trust everyone in your agency.”

  “Hansson, you mean,” she said.

  So much for dancing around it. “Yeah.”

  A tolerant look came over her. “He’s a good agent. He’s just overzealous, eager to prove himself.”

  “So he’s new,” Elexis chimed in. The suspicion in her tone made me like her a little more.

  The skin at the outside corner of Benally’s right eye twitched. I got the feeling she was preparing for an argument. Instead, she just said, “He’s been with the agency for two years.” She wasn’t offering us anything we hadn’t found out with Ty and Elexis’s contacts.

  “Someone eager to prove themselves could botch up something as important as this,” Elexis said.

  Benally inclined her head in agreement. “They could.”

  I leaned in. “With that in mind, we’re hoping you’ll keep this on the down low, only tell those higher-ups who need to know so they can organize the bust. Or better yet, you organize it yourself.”

  “So you have names for me?”

  Before leaving Dan with the guys, Ayra had confirmed the names and locations—via a good flex of her alpha command power. She’d wanted to use her fists and claws, but I’d convinced her otherwise. “Not only that, but also the locations where the exchanges take place. But there’s a catch. The buyers have been picking them up in Portland, Oregon, and then taking them overseas.” Dan hadn’t known where overseas, and that was a problem, one we needed the IIA for.

  “Dammit,” Benally cursed.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Getting them back won’t be easy, if it’s even possible.”

  Benally’s eyes burned with a fire that sucked the air from the room. “I will make it possible. We will get them all back.”

  To keep up appearances, we ordered coffee and sipped at it while I spilled all the information we had so far. A few times while giving the details about the ma’ii women, I got choked up, and Ayra had to step in and continue. Benally went into full agent mode, jotting things down in a black leather notebook and grilling us for every little detail. I texted her a pictures we’d taken of Dan—prior to Ayra blackening his eye. An app on her phone started running his picture immediately through the IIA database, along with a few human authority databases. It pinged at her within minutes. Major points to the IIA for wicked advanced tech. She turned the phone around so Ayra, Elexis, and I could see while she read the information aloud.

  “Declan Clearwater. He has a rap sheet a mile long. Several counts of assault and battery, solicitation of prostitution, theft, menacing. A lot of crimes against women.” She growled at the last part, baring fangs at the image on her phone. “If you know where this guy is, you need to tell me.”

  “He’s secure in our custody,” Elexis said in a curt tone.

  “You have to turn him over to my custody.”

  A full-on growl menacing enough to make my skin crawl issued from Ayra as she leaned forward. “We don’t have to do anything. You have no authority over us, and even if you did, you don’t have the power to back it up,” she said.

  If she weren’t my closest friend, the dangerous, biting energy rolling off her would have scared the crap out of me. Benally did flinch and lean back in her chair, but to her credit, she didn’t run screaming from the coffee shop.

  “What you’ve just told me turns this into an IIA matter, not a reaper and seeker matter. By withholding his location from me, you are hindering the investigation and, more importantly, the recovery of the missing women,” Benally said.

  To ease the rising tension, I held up placating hands and relayed the rest of our plans to get Dan—Declan—to take me to his client under the ruse of selling me to her. Several long moments passed in which she sat there, tapping her chin, lost in thought. Finally, she spoke.

  “That’s not entirely a terrible plan. We need to get to the source, or this won’t stop. He’s biting in supes, turning them into ma’ii, so he can sell them to his client. Why would his client want ma’ii that were originally another type of supe?” The question seemed to be more contemplative than directed at us.

  Elexis inclined her head to the agent. “That’s your department, along with helping bust the buyers and hopefully track down the women already sold overseas. Mine is to help set up the raid that will occur at Declan’s sale of Sonya to his client.” She nodded toward Ayra and me. “Theirs is to bust the client and Declan from within. We all have to work together on this, or it won’t work at all.”

  Another long moment of silence stretched as Benally and Elexis stared at one another. The power radiating off them both raised the temperature in the room a few degrees. Just when I thought things might degenerate into a fight, Benally nodded. Tension drained from the room like a plug had been pulled.

  “We’ll need to coordinate it all at once to have the best chance at recovering any of the women overseas,” Benally said.

  “Exactly,” Ayra and Elexis said in unison.

  A slow sigh of relief eased from me. I’d coordinated three of the most powerful women I’d ever met into a team. Things were starting to look up. Now I just had to allow myself to be sold to a psychotic person who used hybrid supes for who in Helheimr knew what. All in a day’s work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Our not-so-terrible plan started to feel pretty terrible. Declan was able to set up the meeting within the week, but it required us to travel to the Custer Gallatin National Forest near Corwin Springs, Montana. It would happen tomorrow night. Elexis organized a team of varúlfur officers from Hemlock Hollow she trusted not to tell anyone. They planned to be there in a few hours to case the location early tomorrow—once we got the exact meeting spot from Declan’s client. The farther south we traveled, the worse I began to feel about the entire plan. It didn’t help that I had hours to overanalyze and second-guess things.

  Ty and I drove his new dark blue Tesla Model Y, mostly because my Jeep was quickly becoming too recognizable among shifterkind, while Ayra and Vidar drove an undercover police vehicle borrowed from Vidar’s dad with Declan locked in the back.

  Ty and I would have made better time if we didn’t have to keep stopping to let a restless Gripp out to stretch his wings. For the most part, he traveled surprisingly well in a vehicle, even if he was a bit loud, constantly mimicking sounds on the radio and gurgling. It seemed my bird had ADHD. I could relate.

  We found a camp for the night—which was down a random dirt road out in the middle of the Custer Gallatin National Forest. From there, I would take Declan alone tomorrow while the others hiked in all stealthy-like. Ayra and Vidar were going to camp a short distance away to spread out our forces in case of an ambush, but they’d meet us in the morning.

  Before we got out, Ty grabbed my hand. Our gazes met and locked. In the depths of his glacial blue eyes, I saw every fear, hesitation, and torment. But I saw something more—trust.

  “You can do this,” he said. His eyes reflected the confidence in his voice.

  I removed my seat belt, leaned over, and kissed him long and hard. From the back seat, Gripp made gurgling bird noises at us that made me laugh as I pulled away. I ran a hand over Ty’s stubbly cheek and wondered when he’d last had the chance to shave.

  “Yes, I can,” I agreed. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  The impatient noises coming from the back seat made me reach for the door handle. If I didn’t let Gripp out soon, he would make a mess all over Ty’s new car. After his appearance in Wyoming, I wondered about the need to have him ride in the vehicle with us. But he had insisted by sitting on the hood until we let him in. I wasn’t sure if he could travel so far and fast like that again. So we had caved for the sake of Ty’s hood. I’d left a voicemail for Kari, asking if she knew anything about him possibly having special abilities of his own. No answer had come yet.

  Twilight cast long shadows over the forest as we set up camp and ate dinner. Night fell fast and complete like it did in April, swallowing us whole since we didn’t dare light a fire so close to our quarry. After a call to Ayra to check on them, we went to sleep—or at least tried.

  Long into the night when Ty snored softly beside me, and I’d had about as much staring at the roof of the tent as I could take, I gave in and got up to go pee. An owl hooted nearby. From the tree next to our tent, Gripp mimicked the thing in a chortling sort of gurgle that sounded like someone trying to kill an owl. It made me smile despite the situation. For a moment, I stood there, listening to the sounds of the night.

  I shoved my feet into my hiking boots. The slight rustle of feathers told me Gripp followed.

  After relieving myself, I decided to take a short walk. Tomorrow was a big day, the biggest of my life, considering the other lives that would be in my hands. The weight of every one of them pressed down on me until I could scarcely breathe. Going back to sleep wouldn’t be an option for a while. Walking might take the edge off my anxiety so I could get some rest and not foul everything up tomorrow.

  Every now and then, I heard the soft gurgle call of a raven somewhere overhead. The tone of Gripp’s calls along with my gut told me he was flying in the direction of newly bitten who needed my help, and I was confident those newly bitten were victims of Declan’s. The thought made me angrier than ever at him. Maybe I should have let Ayra beat him up after all.

  Despite tripping my way through the dark, I kept at a brisk walk, bordering on breaking into a sprint, hoping the pace would wear me out so I could sleep. After a while, the forest grew quiet. It took me a moment to realize that was because I no longer heard Gripp. He must have given up on me and went back to camp. But he wouldn’t do that. Something felt off. I turned to go back—and saw the muddy-brown eyes of an unnaturally large coyote staring at me from out of a cluster of ferns. They were eyes I would know anywhere. Declan.

  “How the hell did you—”

  An angry snarl cut me off. Claws extending, I started toward him, only to see a human-shaped figure dart out from behind a tree and lunge at me. On instinct, I kicked him in the ribs—which weren’t much above the level of my own—putting everything I had behind it. At the last moment, he twisted away just enough to take the brunt of the impact with his abdominal muscles. While it blew the air from his lungs, nothing broke like I hoped it might. As my leg sprang back from the kick, he grabbed hold of it. I tried to do one of those fancy jumps where one pushed into their opponent, but only ended up slamming onto my back. Thankfully, the duff of the forest floor softened my landing.

  Throwing my body into a tumble roll, I managed to twist my leg from his grip. He advanced on me, and I kicked him in a shin. Cursing, he drew back for a second. It wasn’t much, but it gave me time to get back on my feet and to get a good look at him. A few inches of dark red hair were spiked up with some kind of gel product that tickled my nose. Familiar yellow eyes filled with satisfaction glared me down.

  “Agent Hansson,” I spat the words. “I knew it.”

  Grating, barking laughter erupted from him. “And still you weren’t prepared,” he said through a sneer.

  Dammit, but he was right.

  Suppressing a growl, I cocked my leg back and threw a roundhouse kick toward his midsection. Too fast for me, he brought a forearm up and blocked. He followed immediately with a volley of quick punches thrown at my face and torso, forcing me to focus on blocking. While my night vision helped me see his telegraphing, I could barely keep up. The guy was fast and clearly fought a lot more than I did.

  A punch slipped through my defenses and nailed me in the ribs. Sucking air and seeing white from the pain, I doubled over. Laughing in triumph, he advanced—right into the kick I sent flying into his balls.

  He cursed so vehemently spittle flew from between his clenched teeth as his hands went to cover his damaged junk. I pulled my fist back for an upper cut that would knock him on his ass. But it didn’t reach him. Something heavy slammed into my head from behind. The shock of seeing Hansson had made me forget all about Declan. I fell into the blackness of one of my many bad decisions.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I awoke to the sound of stilettos clicking out a fast rhythm on concrete. Blinding light pierced through my eyes straight to my brain, making the world nothing but a painful white fog. I slammed my eyes shut against it. Along with the sound of the stilettos came the breath and heartbeat of someone much closer, within reach. Two someones, actually. From their scents, I knew one was ma’ii, the other rӓv. Another sniff revealed the ma’ii to be Declan and the rӓv to be Hansson.

  Water dripped, some droplets pinging off metal, others plopping onto surfaces probably more like wood or concrete. They sounded all around me, as if I were in a room with a leaky roof. Beyond the shifters, I smelled must, mold, and rust. My wrists, secured behind me around the back of a very uncomfortable chair, burned and throbbed. My head pounded in time with the throbbing.

  Steeling myself, I tried a squint instead of fully opening my eyes. Slowly, my sight adjusted. What had felt like a blinding light was actually just the moon, visible through one of many holes in the high roof of a huge room filled with a scattering of old metal shelves and wooden boxes. To my left and a few feet in front of me stood Declan. Beside him, Hansson fidgeted with a butterfly knife. Both men watched a rusted metal door twenty feet or so away.

  Heavy-duty hinges creaked as the door opened. A broad mountain of muscle moved into the room. He most definitely was not wearing stilettos. In fact, he wore no shoes at all, and his big bare feet didn’t make a sound as he prowled into the room, gaze scanning. He had a neck bigger than one of my thighs, a square, clean-shaven jaw, and prominent brow. All those muscles couldn’t hide the calculating intelligence in his eyes. That combined with the power of a verndari-level werewolf rolling off him marked him as extremely dangerous.

  My questionable choices moved up a notch to extremely stupid.

  The man’s gaze skimmed right over Declan and Hansson, narrowing on me as if he’d just found the real threat in the room. Smiling, I let one claw extend and started trying to cut at the ropes that bound my wrists. The damn things bit at my skin as if they had thorns in them. After the bite came a sting that told me the rope was soaked in wolfsbane. Bastards.

  The werewolf stepped aside, and the stiletto wearer entered the room. Black hair wrapped in a severe bun sat atop her head. Hard angles, a sharp chin and cheekbones, made for what had to be a semi-permanent resting bitch face—one I knew all too well. A pristine white lab coat hung open over a light gray suit tailored to hug her skinny frame in all the right places. Her brown eyes widened with excitement as they took me in.

  “Councilor Halona.” The whispered words slid from me involuntarily.

  The puzzle pieces clicked into place in rapid succession: Halona’s harshness toward me in Newfoundland, the attacks on Ty and me, the needles, Declan saying his client wanted hybrid supes. I was, in essence, a hybrid supe. This woman had been trying to get to me for a while now. And like an overconfident idiot, I’d walked willingly right into her hands.

  Declan and Hansson parted and moved aside to give her access to me. Gaze never quite meeting mine, she grinned as she approached. “You conniving, bottom-feeding, wonderful sons of bitches. It really is her,” she said in a thick accent.

  I growled in warning and bared my fangs. The light pouring through the ceiling dimmed, as if clouds might have moved over the moon. I didn’t dare look up to check. This woman knew who I was, what I could do. No sense in tipping her off to what I was thinking.

  Ignoring the warning I flashed at her, she strode right up to me, heels clicking hollowly on the concrete. She made appreciative noises as she walked in a circle around my chair.

  “Sonya Michaelson, Seeker of shifterkind, chosen by the Goddess Frigg, or so you think,” she said, a touch of hunger instead of wonder in her tone. Clearly, she didn’t believe in the “chosen by the gods” part.

  By her getup, I was guessing she was a scientist or doctor of some sort. Even if I’d done more research on the council members, that tidbit wouldn’t have necessarily tipped me off to anything. It should have. But I hadn’t been thinking experiments. I’d been too focused on them selling the women into the supe sex slave trade. But then, that had probably been her plan all along. Confuse and redirect.