When Butch had joined the war, he had done it himself.

“Who the fuck got in here?” another brother said. “And why did they break all of this shit?”

Butch eyed the mound of shards and shrapnel that swelled to a point in the center of the corridor. As the torches on the walls threw strobing illumination on the jagged pile, he couldn’t imagine who could have found—

“Oh, shit!” he barked.

As everyone else fell silent behind him, he wasn’t thinking straight as he plunged into the pottery and porcelain debris, shifting through the pieces with hands that were cut by sharp edges, digging . . . clawing . . . praying.

“No, no, no . . .” He heard someone saying that word over and over again, and became dimly aware that it was him. “No . . . no . . .”

As people started to talk behind him, he ignored them.

Butch went all the way down to the stone floor. All the way down.

Then he gave up in utter defeat, twisting around to his brothers as he let himself fall back on his ass in the clearing he had made with hands that now bled red.

For a moment, all he could do was stare up at the group of males who had been enemies to him first, and then friends . . . only to culminate in blooded brothers. He knew their faces as well as he knew his own, and he loved each and every one of them as much as he could love another male.

And it was because of that love that he was suddenly completely and utterly terrified.

Tohr looked over and held his hands up in confusion, all WTF. “Cop, what’s going on here?”

“The hearts are gone,” he choked out. “The Omega . . . somehow, he got in here and he took the hearts from the jars.”

The response was immediate, voices exploding and echoing around as the brothers—and Wrath—went on an immediate offense with their guns and daggers, like they were about to go hunt down the enemy deeper into the subterranean lair.

“He’s not here!” Butch yelled over the din. When they quieted down, he likewise lowered his voice. “The Omega’s gone. He took what he needed . . . and he’s gone.”

V spoke up. “That’s impossible. There’s no way he could have found this place.”

Butch reached out and picked up one of the shards. It was a pale blue circular piece, a base, he guessed—and when he turned it over, it read “Made in China.”

Closing his eyes, he rubbed the smooth, flat surface between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. Then he reopened his lids. “No, it was him. I can feel him on this.”

“The house,” Wrath growled. “The females. The young—”

“No,” Butch interjected. “He’s not on the property. I don’t sense him anywhere here on the mountain and the mhis wouldn’t affect my read on him. He’s not here.”

“But he was,” the King said.

“Yes.” Butch tossed the shard away and got to his feet. As he brushed his bleeding palms on the seat of his leathers, he shook his head. “And we’ve got an even bigger problem than him knowing where we live.”

“What the fuck could that possibly be,” somebody muttered.

Butch turned his back on the brothers and stared at the debris. “He’s taken the hearts to fortify himself. To reenergize and restrengthen his power. He’s just consumed the essence of himself that was in each and every cardiac muscle in those fucking jars.”

“So we’re back to square one,” Tohr said bitterly.

“Or worse,” Butch warned.

Just hold this up for me—yup, right like that.” As the doctor crooked Jo’s elbow, the female smiled. “I told you I was good with a needle, right?”

“I don’t feel a thing.” Jo shook her head. “I mean, didn’t.”

Doc Jane—as she’d introduced herself—rolled herself back on her stool, and tucked the tube she’d filled into the square pocket of her lab coat. Her dark green eyes were full of compassion, and she moved them back and forth between Jo, who was up on the exam table, and Manny, who was in a chair by the door to the treatment room.

“So, thanks to our Sarah,” the doctor said, “who is a genius researcher and a bit of a genetics wonk, we now have a blood test we can use to determine family relationships.” She smiled at Manny. “As opposed to the old-school ancestor regression, which was very dangerous. As I explained, we’re going to compare both of your samples and see what you have in common. We also have a database we’ve been adding to within the species as a whole. Sarah’s done an amazing job with this project, and it’s really going to help us when it comes to you two. Do you have any questions for me?”

Manny shook his head. “I don’t. Jo?”

Jo had plenty of questions. But not about the test. “I’m good. Thank you.”

The doctor got to her feet. Squeezed Jo’s shoulder. And left.

As the door eased shut, Jo stared at the man who might be her brother, reading the features of his face, trying to see what they shared with her own. When his eyes swung to hers, she flushed and glanced down.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to keep looking at you. I’ve just never been with anyone who I’m related to—or might be related to.”

Manny stretched out his legs and leaned back in his stiff little chair. “That’s understandable.”

Jo blinked quick and tried to remember where he had left off when the doctor had come in. It had been a shock—and a relief—to find out her birth mother had not in fact died. And there was so much else to learn.

“So you were telling me about you—our . . . father?” she prompted.

“Yeah, sorry.” He lowered his forearm and pushed at the cotton ball that had been taped into the crook of his elbow. “Like I said, his name was Robert Bluff. He was a surgeon, and my mom met him at Columbia Presbyterian when she was an ICU nurse. He died in nineteen eighty-three in a car accident. Buried in Pine Grove Cemetery. I can take you to his grave sometime if you like.”

“I would. Please.”

“They were never married or anything. And she never really talked much about him. Somewhere in my stuff back at the house I’ve got some newspaper clippings on him and I’ll show them to you. And I also have one photograph. But that’s it, I’m afraid.”

“And she—our mother—is definitely alive, though?”

“Yes.” Manny cleared his throat. “She lives in Florida. I bought her a house down there a couple of years ago. She’s retired now.”

“Do you think . . . would she . . .” Jo shook her head again and tried to ignore the pain in her chest. “I mean, obviously we need to wait for the blood tests to see if—”

“Of course I’ll introduce you.” He shifted to the side and took a phone out of the white coat he was wearing. “Here, let me show you a picture. You must be wondering what she looks like.”

As he scrolled through his cell, Jo was aware of her heart pounding. And when he held out the Samsung, her hands shook as she took the thing.

The image on the screen was black-and-white, and the young woman with the thick, dark hair seemed haunted as she stared at the camera.

“I thought you’d like to see an early picture first. That’s actually when she was pregnant with me. Here, let me show you a more recent one.”

Jo gave the phone back, and couldn’t help but hope there was another snapshot, a couple of years more recent, of the woman . . . pregnant with Jo.

“How old are you?” she asked. When he told her, she was shocked. “So you’re much older than me. God, you look terrific.”

“Thanks. And here’s a more recent one of mom.”

Jo braced herself as she took what he put out once again. This time, the photograph was in color, and the years showed on that once unlined face. Not that the woman wasn’t attractive—and she still had the thick brown hair. But the eyes remained shadowed and there was still that tension around the mouth and the brow.

“What’s her name?”

“Shelley. Shelley Manello.”

When Jo returned the phone to him, he stared at the picture, something in his expression shifting.

“I don’t have to meet her,” Jo said through a tight throat. “I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“No. I would never keep the two of you apart.”

“So what’s wrong?” Jo closed her eyes and shook her head again. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Hey, siblings, right?” His dark brows lowered even further. “And I’m just trying to remember.”

“What?”

“When she was pregnant with you.” Manny looked up sharply. “I am not doubting anything you said. I just . . . going by how old you are, I’d have been out of the house and in college, but you’d think I’d recall. Or that later, she would have told me about it.”

Jo fixated on the back of the phone as he focused on the front. In the silence, unease trickled down the back of her neck, like ice-cold water dripping from some kind of height.

What if Bill had been wrong with his research?

Her dread that that might be the case told her how much she wanted to be Manny’s sister. It was funny how this stranger had made her feel so grounded. Especially given that Syn had left the room.

“But you know,” Manny said, “things were tight for Mom and I back then. From day one, she’d been bound and determined that I was going to go to medical school and I was going to become a surgeon and I was going to be somebody. She was a nurse, and she was always taking extra shifts to afford my education. My main memory of her from my childhood was of how tired she always was. If she happened to have gotten pregnant again when I was away at school? I mean . . . there was no way she could afford to keep it given my costs.” He winced. “You, rather. Keep you. Sorry. I feel like I’m—”

“Don’t ever apologize. I’m the disrupter, not you. Besides . . . maybe she didn’t want to be pregnant with me.” As his eyes lifted to hers, Jo pictured the image of that haunted face. “Maybe it wasn’t that it was an unintended pregnancy. Maybe it was the result of . . .”