Located on Highland Avenue, the low brick building that housed Highland Bakery had survived magic’s jaws mostly intact. This area was called the Old Fourth Ward. Before the magic took Atlanta apart, the Fourth Ward was a happening place with historic buildings from the beginning of the previous century, defunct factories converted to loft apartments, and renovated shotgun shacks—long, narrow, rectangular structures, once reminders of poverty transformed into trendy housing. Supposedly the name came from the structure of the house: if you fired a shotgun through the front door, the pellets would fly through the whole house and out the back door.

The Old Fourth Ward was home to the Boulevard—a place where more drugs passed hands than in most other areas of the city combined—and Edgewood Avenue—where dozens of bars and restaurants had offered drinks, music, and other pleasures of the nocturnal variety.

Now with Downtown in ruins to the west and Midtown equally ravaged, the Old Fourth Ward had quieted down. The bars and restaurants were still there, but they catered to working-class patrons. It was a place where carpenters, masons, and city employees came for lunch, and Highland Bakery was the place where they stopped on the way home when a craving for sweets struck them.

I had checked the outdoor area, but Aunt B wasn’t at any of the black wrought-iron tables, so I went inside, past the counter filled with confections of chocolate, berry, and cream, through the narrow room with a bench to the back. The restaurant was near empty—lunch was a good hour away. Aunt B sat in the corner, with her back to the wall. She looked to be in her early fifties, slightly plump, with a kind face and chestnut hair she put up in a bun. She wore a nice green blouse and khaki capris and looked just like a grandmother about to serve you some cookies.

Looks were deceiving. Most people were terrified of Aunt B. Hell, I was terrified of Aunt B. Even other alphas steered clear, including my best friend, the Beast Lord’s Consort. Whenever Aunt B was mentioned, Kate got this odd look on her face. Not alarm exactly, but definite concern.

On her right sat Lika, her beta. Tall, well built, Lika had short dark hair and a harsh face, the kind you would expect from a female soldier who spent too much time on active duty. Clan Bouda had a few women who were older, more experienced, and could take Lika out, but none of them wanted the hassle of the beta job. Betas had busy lives and a lot of responsibility. Alphas made decisions, betas saw them implemented.

Here was my chance. I would join Clan Bouda, just like everyone wanted. But I would do it on my terms.

I paused before the table and stared at Lika. “You’re in my seat.”

Aunt B’s face remained perfectly placid.

“Is that so?” Lika’s eyebrows came together.

“Move,” I told her.

“Move me,” she said.

I looked at Aunt B. Normally public challenges were to the death, but there were only three of us here.

“To submission,” she said. “I don’t want to lose either of you. There aren’t many of us.”

Lika got up from behind the table. She had about six inches on me and maybe forty pounds, all of it lean, hard muscle. But she had never seen me fight, while I knew her moves.

I pushed the nearest table back, clearing some space. Lika did the same.

Lika rolled her head to the left, cracking her neck, then again to the right. I rolled my eyes and pretended to look bored.

She lunged. It was a fast, deadly lunge. Her right fist snapped out like a hammer.

I ducked low under the lunge, smashed my shoulder under her rib cage, grabbed her legs a couple of inches under her butt, and heaved. My lunge had knocked her off her center of gravity and she had nowhere to go but up. I flipped her in the air and drove her down with all my strength, crouching to control her fall. Lika’s back hit the floor—boom! Before she had a chance to catch her breath, I drew a line with my fingers across her throat and stepped back.

Lika took two seconds to shrug off the daze and rolled to her feet. “Again?”

I looked at Aunt B, like a good little bouda. I knew about the chain of command. In fact, the chain of command made me feel secure and comfy.

Aunt B nodded.

Lika shifted her stance and rocked back and forth on her toes. Okay. I tensed, as if to advance. She took a step with her left foot and kicked out with her right in a roundhouse, aiming for my ribs with her shin. It was a hell of a kick. Had I stayed still, it would’ve shattered my ribs, crippling me. Can’t do much with shattered ribs, except bend over to one side and moan.

I caught her leg just under the knee, wrapping it with my left arm, took a step forward, pushing Lika back and off balance, and swept her other leg from under her. She went down hard. I crouched long enough to pretend-slice her side—marking her internal organs as my target. If I had claws, I could’ve shoved my hand into her, under and into the rib cage, and ripped her heart out. I took a few steps back.

Lika rolled to her feet. Her lip trembled in the beginnings of a snarl.

“No fur,” Aunt B said. “Ladies, in a public place, we wear our public face.”

“Again?” I asked and looked at Aunt B.

She nodded.

Lika charged. Her hands closed over my arms. A grappling move. She was banking on her superior strength. But no amount of strength could change simple physics.

I clamped my hands on her forearms, planted my left foot in the middle of her stomach, and rolled back. She didn’t expect it and the momentum pulled her down. I rocked forward, slamming my ankle onto her throat and forcing her back, and rolled up into a sitting position with both legs across Lika’s chest and her arm clenched to me. Before she had a chance to get her bearings, I leaned back, stretching her arm across my body. With my thighs as an anchor, all I had to do was pull a little and her elbow would be toast.

“Dislocate,” Aunt B said.

I pulled the elbow. The joint popped with a dry crunch.

Lika growled through her clenched teeth.

“There will be no rematch,” Aunt B said. “She has better technique and more education. She’s also faster than you are. Are we clear, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lika squeezed out.

“Let her go.”

I released Lika’s arm, rose, and offered her my hand. The bouda looked at it for a second, sighed, and gripped my fingers with her uninjured hand. I pulled her up. “Good fight.”

“Whatever.” Her voice didn’t hold any real hostility. “I was tired of being a beta anyway. You can have all the hassle.”

Lika looked at her limp arm. “I’m going to the bathroom to fix this.”

“Don’t be too long,” Aunt B said. “I’m ordering your favorite red velvet cupcakes.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Lika walked away toward the bathroom.

Aunt B turned to me and smiled. I could’ve sworn there was pride in it. It couldn’t be. I was deluding myself.

“Sit down, dear,” Aunt B said. “Love the lipstick, by the way.”

“Thank you.” I took Lika’s spot and waited until the bathroom door closed behind her. “Why hurt her?”

“If you gave her half a chance, we would be here till sundown.” Aunt B shrugged. “Lika is stubborn. Nothing short of a decisive victory would stop her. Remember that. You’ll deal with her as my beta and she does prove troublesome on occasion.”

Aunt B looked at me from across the table. Her irises flashed a bright, ruby red. The weight of the alpha stare pressed on me. I held it for a moment too long and forced myself to look down at the table. “Welcome to the family,” Aunt B said.

I was in. For better or worse, I was now a member of Clan Bouda and Aunt B’s second.

A waitress came in with a tray of cupcakes, a pot of tea, and three cups.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve had their red velvet cupcakes.” Aunt B pushed a plump cupcake toward me. “Have one.”

My new alpha was offering me food. Another show of loyalty and submission. Breaking elbows wasn’t enough, apparently. I bit the cupcake and licked the creamy icing. Mmm, cream cheese. Fighting made me hungry.

The waitress departed.

“You do know what the beta job entails?” Aunt B asked.

Of course. “Enforcer, gatekeeper, errand girl, bouda nagger.”

Aunt B cut a small cupcake in half and bit off a piece. “You forgot babysitter.”

“I’m sorry. How silly of me.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” B asked.

“Two things. First, Jim came to visit me this morning. He brought eight people with him. They occupied my apartment and when some cops showed up trying to take me in, they were met with firm resistance.”

“And?”

“And I realized that if I was in trouble, the Pack would back me up and I would back up the Pack. All my friends are in the Pack. I like to belong. I need it, need the structure.” I licked the icing. “I’m tired of starting over. I’m not likely to stop being a shapeshifter, so I might as well make the best of it. I will be the best bouda I can be.”

“Better than me?” B arched her eyebrows.

“Yep. I plan to eclipse your fame.”

Aunt B smiled. “Aiming high.”

“Always.” I sipped my tea.

“And the second thing?” Aunt B asked.

“I spoke to Martina and realized that to take the clan away from you, I need to earn their loyalty first.”

“Oh, so you plan to take over?”

I licked the icing off my lips. “In a few years. Once I am sure they will follow me.”

Aunt B leaned back and laughed.

“You’ve done such a good job for such a long time,” I said. “Don’t you feel you deserve a nice retirement?”

Aunt B kept laughing. “Very well. I will speak to Curran. In light of the investigation, I’m sure the lion will grant us an extension on having you officially admitted into the ranks. As long as it is known that you and I have an understanding and an application has been made, you won’t encounter problems.”