At the sight of me, the vampires behind Clive moved forward. Two of the three who’d come to my doorway that first night were with him—Levi and Sloan. Their third, Blake, was gone. And each of them gazed at me with hatred born of their belief that I’d killed him.

“Johnson,” Lindsey called out to the guard with the injury. “You good?”

“Fine,” Johnson said, with a curl to his lip. “This excuse for a vampire believed he could trespass on Cadogan property. I corrected him.”

“Well done,” she said, then nodded at my father.

“I am Ethan Sullivan,” he said, stepping forward. “Master of Cadogan House and member of the Assembly of American . . . Masters,” he stressed after a dramatic pause, emphasizing the fact that he outranked Clive.

If Clive was shamed, he didn’t show it. “Clive. Compliance Bureau, AAM. We are here on the authority of Nicole Heart.”

I couldn’t see my father’s face, but guessed it held great displeasure. “You have surrounded a registered House with soldiers and weaponry without invitation. I very seriously doubt Nicole Heart authorized that.”

“We have business with Elisa Sullivan.”

“Who is on private property,” my father pointed out. “And who, as she’s told you before, is not a Novitiate of Cadogan House. You have no business here.”

“We have business with Elisa Sullivan,” Clive repeated, either too arrogant or too stupid to hear the threat in my father’s words. “The longer it takes to resolve this issue, the more people will be injured.”

My father’s head tilted. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a statement of fact.”

“Please trespass,” my mother called out. “Please give me an opportunity.” My mother loved a good fight.

“Sentinel,” my dad said, a gentle rebuke that carried no heat.

But the Bureau vamps exchanged glances, looked not entirely sure it was a good idea to take on Cadogan’s famous Sentinel. Levi stepped forward, whispered something to his brother that had Clive’s expression tightening.

My father allowed silence to fall again, watching the vampires with the mildest expression. Clive swallowed hard; the tips of the katanas were millimeters from his skin.

A minute passed, then two, while they watched each other. Twelve Bureau vampires against the several dozen currently on the House’s lawn, all of them silent and still and ready to fight for their Master, their House. And for me, I thought guiltily. Even though I wouldn’t join them.

Clive blinked first. His jaw worked as he swallowed down harsh words, but he released the katana. It fell to the ground, the steel like a bell against concrete.

“He should be punished for that alone,” Lindsey murmured. “Dropping a katana on the ground. Disrespectful.”

I bit back a grin. I had missed the trademark Cadogan House humor.

“Because I believe in the rule of law,” my father said, “but I do not engage with those who threaten our House or our people, I will allow you, and you alone, through the gate. You will leave that sword on the ground.”

Clive and the others discussed; after a long pause, he stepped forward. The gate was opened to allow him to slip through, then closed and locked again.

He strode toward us with hatred in his eyes, all of it centered on me. “We are here to take Elisa Sullivan into custody.”

But my father, much like the Pack, was no pushover. He slid his hands into his pockets, and his stare was blank and mild. “No. You are not.”

“She is a murderer.”

“Wrong again,” my father said. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, she was nowhere near the scene of your colleague’s unfortunate demise, nor did she have any motive to wish him dead.”

But Clive read the truth as a lie. “Cover-up. The Ombudsman’s office is tied closely to the Chicago Houses and can’t be trusted.”

“Yet you’d allow Elisa join our House to satisfy your conditions?”

“There are rules,” Clive said, like it was a mission statement.

“So there are,” my father said. “And I’m aware of no rule that authorizes you to require a vampire join a House or to demand they be tested.”

For the first time, something like uncertainty showed on Clive’s face. “A lie. Nicole has afforded us authority to act for the AAM.”

“While I have questions about the scope of that authority, and I’ll communicate those to Nicole, it certainly does not extend to brandishing weapons at my people.”

“Masters are obliged to submit to the authority of the Compliance Bureau.”

“No,” my father said, as magic and anger began to rise, mix, in the air around us. “We are the AAM, and you are no Nicole Heart.”

Clive’s eyes flashed silver, his hands squeezed into fists. “Your daughter will submit, or she will be arrested and confined. If you afford her protections, you will be punished accordingly.”

That was when realization struck, hard and bright as one of Petra’s shocks. Clive had already decided the “facts,” and nothing we said was going to change his mind. Actual reason and logic were lost on him, ignored due to his unwavering conviction that he was right, and I was evil. I admired conviction, but not obsession. Not willful ignorance.

Victory and defeat were the only things he understood. So defeat it would have to be. But I’d be damned sure he made the first move this time.

My parents stepped forward together, but I reached out, grabbed their arms. “Enough,” I called out. “Enough of this.”

They both looked back at me. “You will not—” my father began, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.

“We can’t ignore this any longer,” I called out, but squeezed his hand, willed him to understand.

I released him, stepped in front of my parents. And felt my mother’s anger at the movement. She’d been trained as a soldier, and didn’t like anyone, much less her child, shielding her from harm.

I put on my most frazzled and defeated look. “I’ll fix this,” I said to Clive. “But I need time to get some things in order.” My father began to speak, but I held up a hand. “Give me”—how much time would it take to find a way out of this?—“three days.”

Silence followed.

“One,” Clive said, finally.

“Two,” I said. “And no magical summons.”

Clive’s brows lifted. “So you can use your family’s considerable resources to run away and avoid punishment? No.”

An insult not just to me, but to my family. “Sullivans don’t run.”

“She will not leave Chicago for the next forty-eight hours,” my father said, probably working hard to guess my game. Then looked at me with trust enough that my throat tightened with love. “You can bond the House if you wish.”

Clive liked that possibility, it seemed, from the glint in his eyes. “Forty-eight hours,” he said, looking at me. “At which time, you will swear allegiance to a House other than Cadogan—assuming any will still have you. You will be Commended, after which you will immediately be taken to Atlanta for Testing. Should you fail to do so, you will be taken to Atlanta and placed into seclusion until such time as you have atoned for your crime.” Then he looked at my father again. “Cadogan House as bond.”

“She will meet you in forty-eight hours,” my father agreed.

Unless I came up with a better plan, I silently amended. Unless I figured some way to wiggle out of this in the meantime. Which I damn well would.

“I will meet you in forty-eight hours,” I said, and the deal was made.

FOURTEEN

Well, daughter mine,” my dad said when were back inside his office. “I hope you have a plan?”

I winced. “Not yet. But I will within the next forty-eight hours.”

“I’ll talk to Luc,” my father said. “Nicole will need to know about this, too.”

“While he’s doing that,” my mother said, “let’s take a walk.”

We both looked at her.

“A walk?” my dad asked.

“A walk.” My mother came to me. I searched her eyes, wondering what she might tell me, or what she might ask. What she might have seen. But she was my mother, so I nodded, took the hand she offered.

“We’ll be back,” she said, giving my father a look, and led me out of the office.

We walked through the kitchen, out into the yard, where path lights glowed and trees swayed in the breeze, not yet ready to give up their leaves for winter.

She stopped when she reached a small fountain, gurgling water illuminated by small in-ground lights, with benches placed around it.

“Sit,” she said. An order. Polite, but an order.

I lifted my brows, but did as she requested.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I stared at her, felt my heart begin to race. “I think Clive laid it out pretty well?”

She sat down beside me, looked at me with pale blue eyes. “I’m your mother, and I know when something’s bothering you. And it’s not just the AAM.”

“Being pressured to join a House isn’t helping.”

“We aren’t trying to pressure you,” she said after a moment. “It’s just . . . hard for both of us not to take personally that you don’t want Cadogan.”

“It’s not an issue of want.”

“I know,” she said and put a hand over mine. “I know. I said that wrong, and I’m sorry.” Frowning, she rose, walked to the fountain, looked down at it. Then she looked back at me—and I knew she knew.

Not exactly—not that the monster existed—but that I was hiding something. She knew I hadn’t told her, or either of them, the absolute truth.

“You know you can tell us if something is hurting you. We won’t judge. And we’ll hold your secrets if need be.”