“What the hell is going on?” With the fall of Silence had come whispers of information—so she knew that with Psy, simple nosebleeds weren’t always so simple.

“A small pressure problem caused by shields,” he said, and she knew it for a lie—but a slight movement of his head told her it was because Alia was drawing closer.

Fine, they’d talk about it later, after she’d survived this funeral. Seeing that the nursery volunteers had arrived, she asked Alia to brief them, then gestured for Ethan to come with her. “Gregori’s running security tonight, with Artem in support, and he’ll place you where he needs you.” The two had loved Emanuel and it was a sacrifice for them to not attend the funeral, but someone needed to watch over their vulnerable.

Before she tracked them down, however, she detoured to a small kitchenette. “Eat.” She thrust a filled roll into Ethan’s hand; her wolf needed desperately to look after its mate.

Ethan gave the roll a dubious look but took a bite . . . then offered her a bite. Her heart kicked. This Arrow of hers, he kept on doing the unexpected, kept on catching her unawares. She accepted that bite, and together, the two of them took three minutes to fuel up before heading back out.

She tracked Artem and Gregori to near the den entrance, two strong men who’d often had a laughing third to balance out their more solemn natures.

“You with us?” Gregori said to Ethan.

“Yes.” Ethan took an at-ease stance, hands clasped behind his back. “I’m an efficient watcher, and I can cause injury at a distance using a blade of light.”

Pride was a wolf’s growl through her; her mate was dangerous and skilled and confident. “Don’t forget he can also make tens of people unconscious in one go.” Since Gregori hadn’t been there at the time, she added, “He’s the reason we caught the empathic terrorists at the symposium.”

“I went down like a log.” Artem’s hazel eyes gave nothing away as he spoke—as was usual with the most self-contained of all her lieutenants. Before he’d had the good sense to fall madly in love with Alia, Artem had been on the way to turning lone wolf. As it was, he was now even more entwined with the pack than gregarious Ivo.

Being Alia’s mate kind of allowed no other option.

“I still can’t believe we’re using those two words together,” Gregori rumbled. “‘Empathic terrorist’ should be a fucking oxymoron.”

Selenka had to leave the conversation at that point, her duties elsewhere tonight. She deliberately didn’t make physical contact with Ethan as she left. She had to be Selenka Durev, alpha of BlackEdge, right now, not a woman grieving the loss of her friend.

A jagged stretching inside her as she walked away, a darkness cold and sweet, and she knew her Arrow had hugged her anyway.

Chapter 18

Vengeance served hot is vengeance wasted.

—Unknown philosopher

ETHAN STOOD ALONE under the darkness, the sky above a stunning spread of stars. There was little light pollution in changeling lands, and as a result, they had truly dark skies—places where the stars could shine bright without competing against created sources of light. It was silent, too, a silence that had nothing in common with the noxious emptiness that had been his only companion when Ming locked him up.

This silence held whispers of leaves, a faint breeze brushing the tree branches as it passed, and after he’d been motionless long enough, he heard the rustle of nocturnal creatures going about their business. The wolf that prowled out of the trees two hours into his vigil on the far left flank of BlackEdge territory made no sound at all—yet Ethan had known he was coming.

The wolf’s coat was a deep reddish brown. Nothing about the animal stated his human identity, but Ethan knew this was Gregori the same way he’d known Margo and Gregori were siblings. “No problems to report.”

Gregori had shared that this flank was vulnerable because it backed onto a road, instead of against bear land or an inhospitable geographic feature. That made Ethan the perfect sentry to place here tonight, while wolf sentries took areas with more uneven terrain. He had the capacity to run telepathic scans all the way out to the road.

After acknowledging his report with an incline of his head, Gregori began to turn away.

“Wait.” Ethan put his hand on the wolf’s nape, its fur unexpectedly soft.

Gregori paused, body motionless and eyes locked in the same direction from which Ethan had sensed a threat.

“Intruders to the left of the road entrance.” Their minds were chaos in the silence, a burst of noise that shattered the quiet. “At least ten of them.” He did another scan. “No, fifteen. Six I can’t get a lock on except to know they’re there—they must be changeling. Five are human. Four Psy.”

Ethan could attempt to hit those minds, but he wasn’t a powerful enough telepath to neutralize them in one go. “If we can get to them, I can push them into unconsciousness.”

The wolf’s jaw fell open in a smile full of a predator’s teeth.

“Close your eyes when it’s time.”

Gregori angled his head and Ethan understood that he was to follow. The two of them made good time through the forest, with Ethan keeping a mental eye on the encroaching group.

Whoever this was, they were either very lost—or very stupid. Selenka’s wolves weren’t known to be nice to intruders. Should a lost tourist wander in, they’d get a good scare and an escort out, but anyone with hostile intent? There was a reason the bears had agreed to a truce with BlackEdge.

Selenka’s wolves might be smaller in animal form, but they were lethal and relentless fighters who would not give up. Even the lower-than-usual number of border sentries wasn’t any guarantee of safety.

“We’re getting closer,” he told the wolf when Gregori paused and looked at him.

The two of them moved with more stealth from that point . . . until Gregori snarled and snapped ahead without warning. Ethan ran full tilt after him. He didn’t know why the lieutenant had revealed their presence until he reached the location and saw the red fuel containers.

A number were open and tipped out at the feet of trees.

These people had planned to start a fire that would’ve decimated part of Selenka’s territory. Ethan’s blood iced, his protective instincts ascendant. Not bothering to shout a warning since Gregori was facing away from him, he sliced out a wave of light. Six of the intruders dropped. The ones still on their feet had their backs to him and so the light hadn’t hit their eyes. No one had worked out why he needed to hit the eyes, but that seemed to be the conduit to the necessary brain circuitry.

The only reason he’d been able to take down everyone at the symposium hall was because he’d used a massive blast of power that reflected back from the slick walls. As it was, he had no reason to waste power with Gregori as his partner.

The wolf male had taken down four already.

Ethan spun a throwing blade into the calf muscle of an intruder, the weapon one he’d learned to use during his imprisonment as part of Dr. Marr’s attempts to “enrich” his environment. His jailors hadn’t cared what he learned since he was scanned for smuggled blades before they ever allowed him out of his cell, but Ethan had practiced with resolute intent regardless. It had been preparation for a freedom he was determined to snatch.

Tonight the intruder crumpled to the ground with a loud cry, one hand clutching reflexively at his calf; he sliced his palm to shreds. Gregori took out another one even as Ethan’s target screamed again; the wolf lieutenant had ripped out a chunk of thigh to leave the woman writhing on the forest floor as she bled out. Sandpaper scraped over Ethan’s senses, hard enough to do severe damage to his shields, but his refusal to allow anyone to harm Selenka had him overriding the pain.

Forming his power into a blade, he sliced the back of a parked vehicle in half. All the runners froze where they were . . . then very slowly went down to their knees, hands locked behind their heads.

“Turn around,” Ethan ordered in a voice colder than the Arctic.

Gregori accompanied that with a menacing growl.

Ethan murmured, “Eyes,” to Gregori the instant the intruders were facing them, then flashed his power again.

Everyone went out—including the ones with chunks of missing flesh.

“Fuckers are from Blaise’s church,” Gregori said, his voice half growl even though he’d shifted into human form. “Youngest is nineteen. Old enough to be responsible for his actions.” His snarl was deadly. “Can’t let the idiots die, though.”

Because Selenka was the only one with the authority to make that call. A truth so self-evident that Ethan didn’t need to ask Gregori to explain. “I can cauterize their wounds so they don’t bleed any further.”

Ethan suited his actions to his words. It was a trick he hadn’t often had a chance to use, but he’d practiced on his own skin to the point where he had fine control over the light blade. When young, he’d thought if he got good enough, Ming would see it as an asset and use him to save people sometimes, but the former leader of the squad had only ever seen him as a killer.

It took him two minutes to stop all the bleeding—his throwing blade had done serious damage and Gregori hadn’t held back. Though the scent of burned flesh lingered in the air, it was overwhelmed by the pungent aroma of spilled fuel. With the intruders incapacitated, the two of them turned their attention to the fuel.

“Punks weren’t playing,” Gregori said, his eyes bright amber. “That amount of fuel could’ve started a serious blaze.”

Recalling Selenka’s mention of graffiti, Ethan said, “A retaliation because you confronted their church leader about petty vandalism? It seems ill thought out.”

“They’re not exactly geniuses—and it looks like there’s no one older than twenty-three in this group. You said you picked up on Psy minds, too?”

“Yes.” He pointed out the four.

The other man shoved a hand through his hair, his tattoos sinuous shadows in the starry darkness. “I don’t want to pull sentries from other areas. Can you keep an eye on the entire group of fuckwits while I run back and see who I can gather up to deal with this?”