The wolf tore into Spike’s shoulder, and blood rained down the Spike-beast’s fur. Spike only got angrier. He threw the wolf off him, watched the Lupine bounce on his butt and scramble to his feet, then Spike went after him.

Myka’s cell phone buzzed against her leg. She was surprised she even got reception out here, but it kept on vibrating, pulling her attention from the fight.

Spike lifted the Lupine in his half-beast arms and threw him to the ground. The Lupine landed on his back with a yelp, but rolled onto his feet yet again, coming up to face Spike.

The phone vibrated insistently. Myka tugged it free to check the number. Sharon might need something, or Ella.

The readout said Number unknown. Telemarketer? Wrong number? Campaign for the next election?

But something inside Myka niggled at her, telling her the call was important. She backed away from the ring, pushing through shouting and screaming Shifters, sliding through the crowd toward the barn’s entrance. Once she was relatively free of the crush, she answered the phone, shouting, “Hang on. Let me get somewhere I can hear.”

She walked out of the barn to the parking lot, the fight noise becoming a cushion of sound behind her. Not many Shifters lingered out here—a few groupies drank beer and speculating on the fights, sounds in the shadows telling Myka that some of the groupies were fulfilling their fondest wish.

“Hello?” she called into the phone. “Who is this?”

“Ronan.” His voice was so weak and ragged with pain that Myka came alert.

“You all right? What happened?”

“Nate happened. Has Jordan and Ella.”

“What?” Myka shrieked into the phone. “What do you mean, has them?”

“What the hell do you think I mean? Tell Spike.”

“How did he get them away from you? You’re a gigantic bear, for crap’s sake.”

“He shot me.” Even with the pain, Ronan’s voice took a tone of irony. “You don’t have to be a better fighter than a Kodiak bear if you have a gun.”

“Shit. Are you all right? Did you call nine-one-one?”

“I’ll be fine.” His voice faded. “Tell Spike.”

The phone went dead. Myka stared at it, then she swung around, ready to sprint back into the barn. She had to stop the fight.

She ran right into the tall form of a Shifter. The man was as big as Spike and as lithe, his hair sand-colored, his eyes cold and winter gray. “I see you got my message.”

Gavan. Had to be.

Myka went at him, fists balled. “You shithead! What did you do with Jordan? If you hurt him, I’ll have every cop in the state after you.”

“He’s not hurt. He’s insurance that Spike does what I want tonight. I don’t trust him not to try to screw me over. That’s Spike’s plan, isn’t it?”

Close, but Myka wasn’t about to tell him that. Spike wanted to win and lose bouts tonight to put Gavan’s place in the hierarchy in jeopardy, to force Gavan to have to fight for his dominance, not just count on Spike and manipulation to keep him there. Fergus had relied on manipulation too much, Spike had said, and ultimately, he’d had weakened himself. When Fergus at last had to fight in truth, he’d lost. Permanently. Spike wanted Gavan to learn the same lesson.

Gavan’s eyes narrowed, understanding Myka’s silence. He grabbed her by the shoulder.

She started screaming and punching at him. The groupies looked over, but they must have thought she was a groupie too, playing with her Shifter. They watched with mild interest and made no move to help her.

“Shut up,” Gavan said. “I’m not doing anything to you. We’ll go back inside and watch the fights.”

He kept his hand around her arm, his grip light, but Myka knew he could close on her with brute strength whenever he wanted.

She went with him back inside the barn, the sharp pricks of bonfires and bright lanterns hurting her eyes.

Spike’s fight was just finishing, Spike backing off and changing to human while the Lupine Shifter limped from the ring, helped by his friends. The crowd roared for Spike.

Spike snatched a towel from Ellison, wiping his face. He turned around and saw Myka with Gavan.

He stilled for one second, then he threw his towel to Ellison and came on. “Get the f**k away from her.”

Gavan looked him over, inhaled in that Shifter way of testing scent, and his eyes went Shifter. “You have the mate bond.”

“Damn straight I do. I want you away from her. Now.”

“Spike,” Myka panted, “he’s got Jordan and your grandma.”

Spike’s gaze went hard to Gavan, sweat and blood trickling down his face. “You touched my cub?”

“He’s perfectly safe. You win these fights, he goes home to his daddy.”

“Screw your fights. You touched my cub. You’re dead.”

Gavan raised his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “If I don’t make it back tonight, my men have their orders. You play nice, and everything will be all right.”

Spike couldn’t hear him. The world was filmed with red, his hated enemy standing in front of him, within gutting reach. The scent of Myka, like cool, fresh rain in the middle of a fetid swamp, was the only thing that kept him from giving in to the feral rage and killing Gavan on the spot.

“You don’t trust me,” Gavan said. “So I don’t trust you.”

“You’re an idiot.” Spike heard the words come out of his mouth, but no awareness of saying them. “You touched my cub. No Shifter will trust you now.”