“Not yet. Want to help?” It was as much as she’d risk saying on the phone.

  “No. I’m not getting in the middle of that shit, either.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a lot of good things going on right now,” Fury said. “June is one of them. I’m not jeopardizing any of it. Or her safety.”

  “But—”

  “Big apology. Don’t forget.” Fury hung up.

  Bryce swallowed her nausea, her self-disgust and hatred. She walked down the quiet hall to a familiar door, then knocked. She was rewarded by the sight of Hunt opening the door, shirtless and wearing his backward sunball hat. Gleaming with sweat. He must have just returned from the gym.

  He jolted. “What are you—”

  She cut him off with a kiss, throwing her arms around his neck.

  He laughed, but his hands encircled her waist, lifting her high enough that she wrapped her legs around his middle. He slowed the kiss, his tongue driving deep, exploring her mouth. “Hi,” he said against her lips, and kissed her again.

  “I wanted to tell you the news,” she said, kissing his jaw, his neck. He’d already hardened against her. She went molten.

  “Yeah?” His hands roamed over her ass, kneading and stroking.

  “Tomorrow morning,” she said, kissing his mouth again and again. “You’re outta here.”

  He dropped her. Not entirely, but swiftly enough that her feet hit the ground with a thud. “What?”

  She ran her hands down his sweat-slick, muscled chest, then toyed with the band of his pants. Ran a finger up the length of him jutting out with impressive demand. “We’re going on a little vacation. So do a good job of seeming like you’re still brooding tonight.”

  “What?” he repeated.

  She kissed his pec, running her mouth over the taut brown nipple. He groaned softly, his hand sliding into her hair. “Pack a swimsuit,” she murmured.

  A male voice chuckled behind them, and Bryce went rigid, whirling to find Pollux, arm slung around a beautiful female’s shoulders, walking by. “Is he paying you by the hour?” the Hammer asked.

  The female—the Hind—snickered, but said nothing as they approached. Solas, she was … beautiful and terrible. She’d tortured countless people. Killed them—probably including Sofie Renast. If Cormac saw her, if he got this close, would he take the risk and try to end her?

  The Hind’s amber eyes gleamed as they met Bryce’s, as if she knew every thought in her head. The deer shifter smiled in invitation.

  But the Hind and the Hammer continued on, for all the world looking like a normal couple from behind. Bryce couldn’t help herself as she said to Pollux’s back, “You really need to come up with some new material, Pollux.”

  He glared over a shoulder, white wings tucking in tight. But Bryce smiled sweetly and he, mercifully, kept walking, his wretched lover with him.

  Bryce found Hunt smiling beside her, and it lightened any guilt about Juniper, any frustration with Fury, any fear and dread at being so close to the Hind, even as she yearned to tell him everything. Hunt tugged her hand, making to pull her into his room, but she planted her feet. “Tomorrow morning,” she said hoarsely, her very bones aching with need. “Meet me at home.”

  She’d tell him everything then. All the insane shit that had gone on since they’d last seen each other.

  Hunt nodded, hearing what she didn’t say. He tugged her again, and she went to him, tilting back her head to receive his kiss. His hand slipped down the front of her leggings. He growled against her mouth as his fingers found the slickness waiting for him.

  She whimpered as he rubbed over her clit in a luxurious, taunting circle. “I’ll see you at dawn, Quinlan.”

  With a nip at her bottom lip, Hunt stepped back into his room. And as he shut the door, he licked his fingers clean.

  Ithan blinked at the phone ringing in his hand.

  Prime.

  Every Valbaran wolf had the Prime’s number in their phones. But Ithan had never once called it, and the Prime of Wolves had never once called him. It couldn’t be good.

  He halted midway down the alley, neon signs casting pools of color on the cobblestones beneath his boots. Sucking in a breath, he answered, “Hello?”

  “Ithan Holstrom.”

  He bowed his head, even though the Prime couldn’t see him. “Yes, Prime.”

  The withered old voice was heavy with age. “I was informed today that you are no longer residing at the Den.”

  “On Sabine’s order, yes.”

  “Why?”

  Ithan swallowed. He didn’t dare say why. Sabine would deny it anyway. Sabine was the male’s daughter.

  “Tell me why.” A hint of the Alpha the Prime had been during his younger years came through in his voice. This male had made the Fendyr family a force to be reckoned with in Valbara.

  “Perhaps ask your daughter.”

  “I want to hear it from you, pup.”

  Ithan’s throat worked. “It was punishment for disobeying her orders during the attack this spring and helping the humans in Asphodel Meadows. And punishment for praising Bryce Quinlan’s actions during the attack in a magazine article.”

  “I see.” Apparently, that was all the Prime needed. “What do you plan to do now?”

  Ithan straightened. “I’m, ah, living with Prince Ruhn Danaan and his friends. Helping them out in the Fae division of the Aux.” Helping with a rebellion.

  “Is that where you wish to be?”

  “Is there an alternative?”

  A drawn-out, too-tense pause. “I would make you Alpha of your own pack. You have it in you—I’ve sensed it. For too long, you have suppressed it so others might lead.”

  The ground beneath Ithan seemed to rock. “I … What about Sabine?” Ithan’s head swirled.

  “I shall deal with my daughter, if this is what you choose.”

  Ithan had no fucking idea who’d even be in his pack. He’d locked himself out so thoroughly from old friends and family after Connor’s death that he’d only bothered to associate with Amelie’s pack. Perry was the closest thing he had to a friend at the Den, and she’d never leave her sister’s side. Ithan swallowed hard. “I’m honored, but … I need to think about this.”

  “You have been through a great deal, boy. Take the time you need to decide, but know the offer stands. I would not lose another wolf of worth—especially to the Fae.” Before Ithan could say goodbye, the old wolf hung up. Stunned and reeling, Ithan leaned against one of the brick buildings in the alley. Alpha.

  But … an Alpha in Sabine’s shadow, once the Prime was gone. Sabine would be his Prime. Amelie would reign as her Prime Apparent. And then Prime, when Sabine herself was gone.

  He had little interest in serving either of them. But … was it a betrayal of the wolves, of his brother’s legacy, to leave the Valbaran packs to Sabine’s cruelty?

  He brushed his hair back from his face. It was longer than it’d ever been while playing sunball. He couldn’t tell if he liked it or not.

  Fuck, he couldn’t tell if he liked himself or not.

  Straightening, Ithan pushed off the wall and finished his walk, arriving at his destination. The towering doors to the Astronomer’s building of horrors were shut. Ithan pulled the crescent moon door chime once.

  No answer.

  He pulled it a second time, then pressed an ear to one of the metal doors, listening for any hint of life. Not even a footstep, though he could make out the hum of the machines beyond. He knocked twice, and then pressed his shoulder into the door. It opened with a groan, nothing but darkness beyond. Ithan slipped in, silently shutting the heavy door behind him. “Hello?”

  Nothing. He aimed for the faint, pale glow of the three tanks in the center of the cavernous space. He’d never seen anything so strange and unsettling—the three beings who’d been sold into this life. Existence. This sure as fuck wasn’t a life.

  Not that he’d know. He hadn’t had one in two years.

  Their visit last week had lingered like an unhealed wound.

  He might have walked out of here condemning everything he’d seen, but he’d still given the Astronomer his money. Kept this place running.

  He knew it bugged Bryce, but she’d been swept back into the shit with Danika, and as a princess, her hands were tied as far as a public scene. Especially when she walked such a dangerous line these days—any additional bit of scrutiny might be her downfall.

  But no one gave a fuck about him. No matter what the Prime had said.

  “Hello?” he called again, the word echoing into the dimness.

  “He’s not here,” rasped a hoarse female voice.

  Ithan whirled, reaching for his gun as he scanned the darkness. His wolf-sight pierced through it, allowing him to make out the speaker’s location. His hand dropped from his hip at the sight of her.

  Long chestnut-brown hair draped over her too-thin, pale limbs, her body clad in that white shift that all three mystics wore. Her dark eyes were still—like she was only half-there. A face that might have been pretty, if it weren’t so gaunt. So haunted.

  Ithan swallowed, slowly approaching where she huddled against the wall, bony knees clutched to her chest. “I wanted to see your … boss.”

  He couldn’t say owner, even though that’s what the old creep was. In the gloom, he could make out a worktable beyond the mystic sitting on the floor, with a small box atop it. Light filtered out from the box, and he had a good idea of what was kept inside it. Who were kept inside, trapped in those four rings, which were apparently valuable enough that the old male had left them behind, rather than risk them in the city at large.

  The mystic’s rasping voice sounded as if she hadn’t spoken in ages. “He put the other two back in, but didn’t have the part he needed to fix my machine. He’s at the Meat Market, meeting with the Viper Queen.”

  Ithan sniffed, trying to get a read on her. All he could get from this distance was salt. Like it had brined the scent right out of her. “You know when he’ll be back?”

  She only stared at him, like she was still hooked up to the machine beyond them. “You were the one who freed me.” Solas, she sat with such … Vanir stillness. He’d never realized how much he moved until he stood before her. And he’d considered himself capable of a wolf’s utter stillness.

  “Yeah, sorry.” But the word stuck—freed. She’d been pleading to go back. He’d assumed she’d meant into the between-place where the mystics roamed, but … What if she’d meant this world—back to her life before? The family who had sold her into this?

  Not his problem, not his issue to solve. But he still asked, “Are you okay?” She didn’t look okay. She sat the way he had in his dorm bathroom the night he’d learned that Connor was dead.

  The mystic only said, “He will be back soon.”

  “Then I’ll wait for him.”

  “He will not be pleased.”

  Ithan offered her a reassuring smile. “I can pay, don’t worry.”

  “You’ve caused him a great deal of inconvenience. He’ll kick you out.”

  Ithan took a step closer. “Can you help me, then?”

  “I can’t do anything unless I’m in the tank. And I don’t know how to use the machines to ask the others.”

  “All right.”

  She angled her head. “What do you want to know?”

  He swallowed hard. “Was it true, what the demon prince said, about my brother being safe for now?”

  She frowned, her full mouth unnaturally pale. “I could only sense the other’s terror,” she said, nodding toward the tanks. “Not what was said.”

  Ithan rubbed the back of his neck. “All right. Thanks. That’s all I needed.” He had to know for sure that Connor was safe. There had to be some way to help him.

  She said, “You could find a necromancer. They would know the truth.”

  “Necromancers are few and far between, and highly regulated,” Ithan said. “But thanks again. And, uh … good luck.”

  He turned back toward the doors. The mystic shifted slightly, and the movement sent a whisper of her scent toward him. Snow and embers and—

  Ithan went rigid. Whirled to her. “You’re a wolf. What are you doing here?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Your pack allowed this to happen?” Rage boiled his blood. Claws appeared at his fingertips.

  “My parents had no pack,” she said hoarsely. “They roamed the tundra of Nena with me and my ten siblings. My gifts became apparent when I was three. By four, I was in there.” She pointed to the tank, and Ithan recoiled in horror.

  A wolf family had sold their pup, and she’d gone into that tank—

  “How long?” he asked, unable to stop his trembling anger. “How long have you been in here?”

  She shook her head. “I … I don’t know.”

  “When were you born? What year?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I made the Drop. He had some official come here to mark it, but … I don’t remember.”

  Ithan rubbed at his chest. “Solas.” She appeared as young as him, but among the Vanir, that meant nothing. She could be hundreds of years old. Gods, how had she even made the Drop here? “What’s your name? Your family name?”

  “My parents never named me, and I never learned their names beyond Mother and Father.” Her voice sharpened—a hint of temper shining through. “You should leave.”

  “You can’t be in here.”

  “There’s a contract that suggests otherwise.”

  “You are a wolf,” he snarled. “You’re kept in a fucking cage here.” He’d go right to the Prime. Make him order the Astronomer to free this unnamed female.

  “My siblings and parents are able to eat and live comfortably because I am here. That will cease when I am gone. They will again starve.”

  “Too fucking bad,” Ithan said, but he could see it—the determination in her expression that told him he wasn’t going to pry her out of here. And he could understand it, that need to give over all of herself so that her family could survive. So he amended, “My name is Ithan Holstrom. You ever want to get out of here, send word.” He had no idea how, but … maybe he’d check in on her every few months. Come up with excuses to ask her questions.

  Caution flooded her eyes, but she nodded.

  It occurred to him then that she was likely sitting on the cold floor because her thin legs had atrophied from being in the tank for so long. That old piece of shit had left her here like this.

  Ithan scanned the space for anything resembling a blanket and found nothing. He only had his T-shirt, and as he reached for the hem, she said, “Don’t. He’ll know you were here.”

  “Good.”

  She shook her head. “He’s possessive. If he even thinks I’ve had contact with someone other than him, he’ll send me down to Hel with an unimportant question.” She trembled slightly. He’d done it before.

  “Why?”

  “Demons like to play,” she whispered.

  Ithan’s throat closed up. “You sure you don’t want to leave? I can carry you right now, and we’ll figure out the other shit. The Prime will protect you.”

  “You know the Prime?” Her voice filled with whispered awe. “I only heard my parents speak of him, when I was young.”

  So they hadn’t been entirely shut off from the world, then. “He’ll help you. I’ll help you.”

  Her face again became aloof. “You must go.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine,” she echoed back, with a hint of that temper again. A bit of dominance that had the wolf in him perking up.

  He met her stare. Not just a bit of dominance … that was a glimmer of an Alpha’s dominance. His knees buckled slightly, his wolf instinct weighing whether to challenge or bow.

  An Alpha. Here, in a tank. She would likely have been her family’s heir, then. Had they known what she was, even at age four? He suppressed a growl. Had her parents sent her here because she’d be a threat to their rule over the family?

  But Ithan shoved the questions aside. Backed toward the doors again. “You should have a name.”

  “Well, I don’t,” she shot back.

  Definitely Alpha, with that tone, that glimmer of unbending backbone.

  Someone the wolf in him would have liked to tangle with.

  And to leave her here … It didn’t sit right. With him, with the wolf in his heart, broken and lonely as it might have been. He had to do something. Anything. But since she clearly wasn’t going to leave this place … Maybe there was someone else he could help.

  Ithan eyed the small box on the worktable, and didn’t question himself as he snatched it up. She tried and failed to rise, her weakened legs betraying her. “He will kill you for taking them—”

  Ithan strode to the doors, the box of fire sprites trapped inside their rings in hand. “If he’s got a problem with it, he can take it up with the Prime.” And explain why he was holding a wolf captive in here.

  Her throat bobbed, but she said nothing more.

  So Ithan stalked outside, onto the jarringly normal street beyond, and shut the heavy door behind him. But despite the distance he quickly put between himself and the mystics, his thoughts circled back to her, again and again.

  The wolf with no name, trapped in the dark.

  “I’m requesting an aquatic team of twenty-five for tomorrow,” Tharion said to his queen, hands clenched behind his back, tail fanning idly in the river current. The River Queen sat in her humanoid form among a bed of rocky coral beside her throne, weaving sea nettle, her dark blue gown drifting around her.

  “No,” she said simply.

  Tharion blinked. “We have solid intel that this shipment is coming from Pangera, and that Pippa Spetsos is likely already there. You want me to capture her, to interrogate her about Emile’s whereabouts, I’m going to need backup.”

  “And have so many witnesses mark the Blue Court’s involvement?”

  What is our involvement? Tharion didn’t dare ask. What’s your stake in this beyond wanting the kid’s power?

  His queen went on, “You will go, and go alone. I take it your current cadre of … people will be with you.”