Jeff walked over, enveloped me in an enormous hug. “Congrats, Merit.”

I squeezed back. “Thank you, Jeff.” When he pulled back, I grinned at him. “When do I get to start harassing you about proposing to Fallon?”

He just smiled. “A man has his secrets, Merit. Oh, hey, look who’s here!”

We looked back, found Gabriel and his wife, Tanya, walking onto the field. She was delicately pretty compared to his rugged maleness, with brown hair and blue eyes, her cheeks flushed pink, her lips generous and smiling.

Gabe’s son, Connor, was in his arms, chewing on a plastic giraffe I’d seen before. He was a beautiful little boy, nearly a year old now, with his mother’s dark hair and blue eyes. He was the prince of the North American Central Pack, and even as a child, he seemed to glow with potential.

“Very interesting,” I said as Gabriel scanned the crowd, walked toward us. Ethan stepped beside me, which I didn’t think was a coincidence.

“I understand congratulations are in order,” he said, offering Ethan a hand. The other vampires in the hall had gone quiet as they watched the interaction, just in case there was still bad blood. Ethan took it, and they shook heartily.

Gabe turned to me, pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Congratulations, Kitten. Berna sends her warmest regards.”

“You sure about that?” I asked.

Tanya offered a tall, cylindrical paper bag that smelled like yeast and sugar. “Korovai,” she said. “It’s a traditional Ukrainian wedding bread. She’s happy you’re engaged, but she’s irritated about something to do with ballet.”

“Berna enjoys her opinions,” Gabriel said with a grin. “It’s like a hobby for her.”

“Well, it smells amazing,” Ethan said, accepting the bread. “Please thank her for us. And please, help yourself to some champagne.”

“Can’t say no to that,” Gabriel said with a grin, and escorted Tanya toward the snack table.

And as I glanced around, I realized my grandfather had stepped away, had his ear to his phone. Ethan, catching the direction of my gaze, looked, too. And soon enough, everyone was watching him, expressions tense.

When my grandfather put the phone away, he glanced at us. “At the risk of ruining the party—” he began, but Ethan shook his head.

“Please, go ahead. Say what needs to be said.”

“A judge offered bail to Sorcha and Adrien Reed.”

There were curses and disgusted looks throughout the group. Fistfuls of angry magic replaced the confetti that had sparkled through the air.

“You are freaking kidding me,” Mallory said.

“Unfortunately not,” my grandfather said. “Nick has pointed out the particular judge was mentioned in Reed’s papers. He was a supporter. But that lack of ethics isn’t the biggest news. The Reeds were driven home a few hours ago with monitoring devices. They were tampered with, which sent an alert to the CPD.”

We shifted nervously, waiting for the rest of it.

“Adrien Reed is dead. Killed, it appears, by his own hand. Sorcha Reed is gone. Their accounts have been cleaned out.”

Ethan closed his eyes ruefully.

“She killed him,” I said, and all eyes turned to me. “Her plan—her long-term plan to get free—to become queen, failed. Killing him, taking the money, running. She’d have considered that a consolation prize.” It didn’t fit with the Sorcha I’d seen on Reed’s arm, but it fit with the one I’d seen at Towerline.

“We’ll see what the evidence says,” my grandfather said. But there was a flatness to his voice that indicated he didn’t disagree.

“What if she comes back?” Mallory asked.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Catcher interjected, putting an arm around her. “Just as we’ve dealt with everything else.”

“And we’ll help,” Ethan said, and looked around the crowd, got nods from his vampires, from the shifters.

“All for one and one for all?” Catcher asked.

“All for Chicago,” Ethan amended. “Because that’s what this is really about. Not vampire, not shifter, not sorcerer, not human. A man and a woman who believed they were entitled to more than they’d earned and were willing to use people to get it.” His eyes sparked like fire. “She tries something here again, and she’ll see how hard Chicagoans will fight.”

And until then, I thought, as he took my hand and squeezed, we had each other. And we’d try to make the best of it.