“She’s not so bad,” said a man at a nearby table. “Didn’t she help with the fairies?”

“She probably started the fight with the fairies in the first place.”

My drink tray was placed on the counter. I snatched it up and fought back the urge to slink through the coffeehouse so the woman wouldn’t recognize me. And realized that would let her—and her ignorance—win.

So I walked toward her, waited until she lifted her gaze to me, and watched the fear widen them.

“I’m Elisa Sullivan,” I said. “They want me because I saved a human life. If they punish me for that, you’d better hope the next life that needs saving isn’t yours.”

I turned on my heel and walked out, and left her sputtering behind me.

* * *

* * *

Connor was sitting at the kitchen island, gaze on his screen, when I walked inside again. He looked up at my foot-stomping stride.

“What happened?”

“Vampires,” I muttered and put the tray on the counter.

He stood up, leaving his screen behind. “They found you?”

“No. They fired back,” I said. “Sent me a message about my deadline and planted a story about how my ‘surrender’ is imminent.” I handed him my screen. “You read. I need to freebase this caffeine.”

While his gaze tracked across the screen, and angry magic began to pepper the air, I took a cup from the holder, drank deeply, and closed my eyes. “There we go,” I murmured, as warmth and the bite of coffee and caffeine settled in.

“They’re going to be sorely disappointed when you don’t surrender.”

“Oh, they absolutely are. And then they can fuck off right into daylight.”

Connor’s mouth quirked. “That’s a good one.”

“Thought of it while I was muttering on the walk back.” He handed my screen back, and I saw the two new messages from Tribune and Sun-Times reporters wanting a statement.

“You going to respond to those?” Connor asked behind me.

“I’m going to do one better,” I decided.

In response, I told them to direct any inquiries to Roger Yuen and Theo Martin. That would keep the media off my back. If the OMB wanted to keep the investigation in-house, and to keep me out of it, it was only fair that I send reporters their way.

I put my screen away, promised myself not to look at it again for a good hour, and looked at him. “Did you pick this place because it’s a three-block walk from Leo’s?”

He gave me a very satisfied smile. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Clever boy.”

“I try,” he said, sipping his own coffee. “What else?”

“Nothing,” I said, an automatic response.

But he put his cup down, looked at me with the imperious glare I had no doubt he’d be using as Apex in the future.

“That look doesn’t work on me, due to Ethan Sullivan being my father.”

“Okay,” he said. And to my surprise, he pulled up his shirt, revealing his flat abdomen. He ran a hand across it, winged up his eyebrows in obvious invitation, magic rising in the air like heady perfume.

I swallowed down a wave of lust. “That, however, is incredibly effective.”

“Everyone has a weakness.”

I looked up at him, batted my eyelashes. “And what’s yours?”

He snorted. “As if I’d reveal that to a vampire.”

I took a step closer and, before he could put his shirt down, trailed my hands along his abdomen, felt muscles tense beneath, the magic grow more potent.

He tugged me forward, but I evaded, put another foot of space between us.

“Everyone has a weakness,” I said with a polite smile.

Connor blew out a breath, looked at me beneath dark lashes. “We’ll call that a draw. So what else is bothering you, vampire?”

My smile slipped away. But because I knew he was in earnest, I tried to put my feelings into words. “I’m worried about you, about Lulu. I’m angry at vampires. I’m sick of wondering who might be skulking around in the dark.” I looked at him. “Darkness is supposed to be mine. Ours.”

“We enjoyed the dark pretty effectively last night.”

“You know what I mean. The AAM is stalking me. The stalker is hunting me. I’d take a straight battle over this shadow nonsense any day.” I tried to roll the tension from my shoulders. “Maybe Alexei will find something.”

“Or maybe your parents will, in the Canon. Or maybe we’ll have this out in a big, bloody battle and the AAM will finally come to its senses.” He sat again, put his arms around me, drew me between his thighs. “We’ll figure out a way through it.”

I rested my head atop his, breathed in his cologne. Then glanced toward the sitting area, found it empty of shifter and sorceress. “Did you see?”

“Trouble on the horizon?” he asked. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“I mean, they’re both free agents, right?”

Lulu padded in. Her bob of dark hair gleaming, her clothes paint-splattered but tidy. She held up a hand as she aimed for the coffee. “I don’t even want to discuss it.”

Connor snorted. “Who said we do?”

She just grunted, pulled off a lid, and drank, throat working. When she’d properly self-medicated, she put the cup down, looked up again. “We just fell asleep. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Okay,” I said, as casually as I could manage.

“We were watching this show about guys finding junk on old farms. And we fell asleep. That’s it.”

“Okay,” I said again. “You’re talking about this much more than we are.”

She narrowed her gaze at us. “Oh. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” Connor said. “We definitely wouldn’t. Is he upstairs?”

“How would I know?” she asked, a little too loud.

“Because you just came from upstairs,” I offered, feeling the need to defend him, “and it’s a finite space.” I drew a box with my index fingers. “So it’s not unreasonable that you’d be aware of another person in said space.”

She just growled at me. Maybe she was missing the cat.

“He goes with you to work,” Connor told her, sipping again.

“Oh, great. Another night with baggage.”

The baggage walked in. He’d paired jeans with a tight-fitting T-shirt that showed off his leanly muscled body.

Connor flicked my ear.

“Stop doing that,” I said, sticking a pointed finger in his face and trying hard not to laugh.

“Stop staring at my Packmate,” he said.

Alexei took the other coffee, looked at us, looked at Lulu, and rolled his eyes. “Ready?” he asked her. Lulu grunted and followed him out.

“Have a good night at work,” I called out, and they both ignored me. Which was probably for the best. I looked at Connor. “What’s on the prince’s agenda for the evening?”

“Helping my girlfriend escape the wrath of the AAM, probably.”

“Good call.”

A buzzer sounded. Doorbell, I assumed, and cast a wary glance back toward the stairs, hand on my dagger. “Expecting someone?”

“As a matter of fact,” Connor said, and I followed him to the front door. And found Petra and Theo smiling through the glass.

* * *

* * *

“Damn nice digs,” Theo said, glancing around as Connor gave them a quick tour. “You have good taste.”

“Thanks,” Connor said. “There’s no coffee left, but—”

“We’re fine,” Theo said, shifting his gaze to me, still full of apology, as we followed Connor into the dining room.

Not the sitting area or the kitchen island, where we’d talked with Alexei and Lulu. Because those were for family. And Petra and Theo weren’t. At least not right now. Not yet.

Petra and Theo exchanged a heavy glance, but pulled out the upholstered chairs around the burled oak table, took seats. They’d understood, too.

I wanted to comfort everyone, but there wasn’t time for it. Not now.

Connor and I sat on the other side of the table, hands linked. And I wondered how many nights we’d sit together and face worries and tragedies. Hopefully always on the same side.

“We found the vehicle used to hit Connor,” Theo said. “It was dumped in the North Branch of the Chicago River. Divers found it during the day.”

“That doesn’t sound like an accident,” I said and squeezed Connor’s hand. “In case we needed any proof this was intentional, we have it.”

Theo nodded. “They’re searching for evidence, fingerprints that weren’t ruined by the swim. The make and model are common, but it happens a vehicle matching the description was stolen from the Brass & Copper building. It belonged to a human found inside a janitorial closet off the building’s lobby. Car key taken, along with a pint of his blood. But he’s alive.”

“A little snack,” I said, fury now hot. “Confirming the person who stole the car—and made an attempt on Connor—was a vampire.” My anger rose again. I’d have preferred the stalker come after me, put me in his sights, instead of taking aim at innocents.

“And because the stalker already took credit for Blake’s death, confirming he was also killed by a vampire,” Theo said.

“Why kill a vampire, try to kill a shifter, and avoid killing a human?” Petra asked. “The human would be the easiest to kill.”

“Because the human didn’t try to hurt me,” I said. “And the stalker’s goal is punishing those who hurt me, or so the notes say. Did the guy see anyone? Or is there video of the attack?”

“No video,” Theo said. “The closet isn’t far from the spot where Blake was killed, and there’s no video in that portion of the building. He remembers seeing a man coming toward him, but that’s it.”