Alphas often found comfort or love with a packmate.

No, Selenka’s disgust stemmed from the fact that the woman obviously worshipped Blaise as her spiritual leader. The power imbalance was staggering, the ethical breach repulsive. It would be akin to Selenka choosing fresh-faced and in-awe-of-her Ilarion for a lover. Her wolf curled its lip in a snarl.

“Selenka.” Blaise’s strikingly handsome features were set in calm lines, his green eyes placid—the gate watchers had obviously alerted him to their presence. “Shall we go speak in the church?”

“I’d rather stay outside.” She folded her arms, set her feet apart. “Certain scents are difficult to ignore inside an enclosed space.”

Blaise’s skin tightened over his cheekbones—and there it was, the truth he hid behind his serene mask. He didn’t like Selenka calling him to account, and it wasn’t the first time she’d clocked that reaction. She hadn’t yet confirmed if it was because she was a woman, or because she was so clearly the more dominant wolf.

“Of course.” He waved a hand. “Shall we walk?”

Selenka fell in beside him for the simple reason that she wanted the young woman out of earshot—Blaise was not the type to be kind to anyone who heard him getting dressed down by another party, much less a wolf alpha.

Gregori trailed them a short distance away.

“Your people have breached our hospitality,” she said, keeping her tone civil even though she wanted to tear off his fucking head. This wasn’t about anger—it was about pinpointing the person who’d sought to hurt her pack, possibly the same individual who’d murdered Emanuel. “BlackEdge has every right to kick you out.”

Blaise’s face grew pinched, his muscles bunching, but he managed to keep his voice even as he said, “I beg leniency. This is our home now, and we shouldn’t all be punished for the mistakes of a few misguided youth.”

“Brother Blaise.” A limber woman who moved with the stride of the martially trained, her black hair tied back in a long tail, raised a hand in hello from the other side of the drive. “Are you well?” She had a hand on her thigh, the weapon not visible, but Selenka could smell the oil used to clean projectile guns. As Nomani was the sixth—and final—wolf in the congregation, she had to know Selenka would scent it.

The threat was conscious.

“Yes, Noma.” Blaise’s smile was beatific. “Alpha Durev and I are discussing the Disciples’ future in Moscow.”

Emotion, hot and dark, flashed in the woman’s eyes, but she inclined her head. “I will leave you to your conversation.”

That conversation didn’t take long—after what she’d seen and sensed today, Selenka knew without a doubt that Blaise was up to his neck in whatever was going on. But she needed more information before she rained hell down on his head. To make sure he wouldn’t suspect anything, she kept her tone pitiless as she ended the conversation. “Another ‘mistake’ of any kind by any of your people and I come for you.”

She could feel him staring after her as she strode back to the vehicle. She and Gregori didn’t speak again until they were out the gates and on their way back to the pack.

“That never came up in the background check,” Gregori murmured. “The brother-sister relationship, I mean.”

Selenka had caught that, too—there was a familial thread to Blaise’s and Nomani’s scents, the kind of thread formed by blood. “It’s interesting that he hides the relationship.” The two had been careful till now not to be seen together around BlackEdge wolves. “Might be another way to track his past.”

“I’ll pass on the details to Ivo and Margo. I also want a constant patrol out here until we decide to move on them—I have a feeling they’re stockpiling things we don’t want them stockpiling.”

“I’ll alert Valentin and Krychek.” Her fellow alphas needed to know of the possible threat in their region.

She made the notification as soon as she was back in the den. Both agreed to let BlackEdge handle it, and pledged assistance should the pack need it. Meanwhile, Gregori went off to liaise with Ivo to see what information they could unearth about Blaise now that they knew Nomani was his sibling.

Selenka did what an alpha needed to do—which included a visit to look over their captives—and she did it while fighting a keening need to go to her mate.

The Architect

To be a true architect, one must accept that sometimes, the foundations have to be demolished. Anything built on a shaky footing will fail. So raze it to the earth, and begin anew.

—Renowned architect Vance Oum (d. 2017)

THE ARCHITECT’S MIND flexed and stretched, growing ever stronger. Even though she’d discarded the Scarab alert, she’d kept an eye on her expanding powers, watching for signs of madness or a critical lack of control. She didn’t find them. Perhaps it had to do with her decades of discipline—because she did spot such signs of instability in another mind to which her own was drawn.

It was easy enough to find his name: Ezra Ree.

It was equally easy to unearth where he lived, his work status, and personal details. What interested her the most, however, were the lightning bolts she could see in his mind. She saw the same bolts in her own mind.

Signs of a glorious awakening.

In contrast to her, however, Ezra didn’t appear to be coping well with his new gifts—he’d called in sick two days in a row, though she could find no evidence of his having consulted a medical professional. After examining his mind one more time, she decided to take a risk. If she failed, well, he’d be far from the first threat she’d eliminated.

Calling in one of her private teleport-capable Tks, she had the male transport her to Dunedin, New Zealand, but had him drop her off a number of blocks from her destination. She had no cause to doubt the Tk’s loyalty, but better not to take risks—teleport-capable Tks weren’t exactly simple to source. “Wait for me here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Even as she walked, spiderwebs of power spilled over from her mind to spread throughout the Net. The Architect watched it happen with what the emotional would’ve called happiness. She saw it as her birthright.

She was the new coming of Psy, the next wave of power.

Chapter 33

Your grandmother was the shyest wolf in the den when I began courting her. How I figured out she reciprocated my interest was when she began to bake small treats for my lunch. Just one. Just for me.

—Yevgeni Durev to Selenka Durev (14)

AN ENTIRE DAY passed with Selenka spending two hours with Ethan and the rest on pack business, including the hunt for the assassin. Oleg, too, was needed in the den. So she made the call to bring in one more person. Gregori and Ethan had formed a connection, and she didn’t think her mate would mind the other man holding the watch.

And because Ethan’s physical status affected her on a deep level, she also told Margo and her other lieutenants what had happened, calling it a “psychic flatline”—but she asked them to give her and Ethan privacy. “I know I can trust all of you,” she said on a surge of fierce love for her men and women, “but Ethan isn’t used to being part of a pack yet. He won’t be comfortable with being surrounded by wolves while he’s down.”

Kostya had spoken for all the lieutenants when he said, “A mate knows a mate best.” His tone held the knowledge of a wolf who’d mated two years earlier, to a woman he’d known since childhood. “You do what Ethan needs, Selya. We’ll take care of the rest.”

As for Gregori, he’d stepped in without hesitation. “Knew something was up,” he’d rumbled. “Ethan’s not the kind of mate to disappear on you that way.”

No, Ethan was the kind of mate who stuck.

Her grandmother found her soon after she returned to the den. “Selenushka,” Lada Durev said with a soft hug, the scent of spring flowers lingering in her hair. “My sweet girl.” Cupping her face, she drew Selenka down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Where is your mate?”

“He was injured.” Never would she lie to her grandmother. “He’ll be fine, but he’s resting right now. I’ll bring him to your table when he’s up and moving.” Her babushka most often showed her love with food.

Her grandfather’s stories of his careful, so careful courting of her always made Selenka smile. She’d never quite understood how her loud, blustery grandfather and her quiet, shy grandmother could live together in harmony, but they did. It was a life Selenka had been afraid to hope for, for herself. Now she had a quiet, intense mate who trusted no one but had given himself over to her.

“Ah,” her grandmother said and gave her another hug. “Your mate will understand that you must still be alpha, especially in such times.” Her smile was luminous. “As long as he knows he is first in your heart, as I have always known with Yevgeni.”

Selenka couldn’t face that depth of vulnerability, couldn’t stare full frontal at the reality of what was growing between her and Ethan. The mating bond was a primal connection, but love . . . that required the participation of the human heart, a heart that had been kicked hard in childhood and carried the bruises to this day.

“Babusya!”

They both looked down to see Zhanna tugging at Lada’s skirt, her face bright. Selenka’s grandmother smiled and crouched down to cuddle the little girl. “And you, my darling Zhannochka of the big ears and cheetah feet, what mischief are you causing?”

Giggling, the pup threw her arms around Lada. “Party! It’s Tzi’s birthday party! Come!”

And for a while, the Warren was a place of innocent joy, the pups excited about cake and games and the adults delighted by them. Selenka wouldn’t admit it even on pain of torture, but her pack had learned to celebrate so openly from the bears. The bears threw a party for everything. New packmate? Party! A clever juvenile getting into a top learning institution? Party! A beautiful spring day? Picnic party!