The place Kendrick had told her to take the cubs was straight south, a few miles outside San Antonio, where Dylan patrolled regularly. No one would dare harm Kendrick’s cubs in Dylan’s territory.

Now to make sure no other Shifters lingered here, waiting to corner him.

Kendrick had always had unrest in the Shifters he led. How could he not, with different species living together, hiding from humans, keeping their true natures a secret?

Unlike most Shifters these days, Kendrick and his band didn’t wear Collars. They’d hidden away when humans came to round up Shifters years ago, and had lived free of Shiftertowns, covertly, for the last twenty years. But they’d had to follow Kendrick’s stringent rules to remain hidden, and Shifters hated confinement. Restlessness turned to resentment and anger. Kendrick had been challenged for leadership more than once, though he’d always prevailed.

At the moment, Kendrick’s Shifters were in limbo. They’d been living in secret in an underground bunker in South Texas that they’d made into a functioning if inelegant hideaway. But then a human man working for Shifter Bureau and his Collared Shifter mate—a Kodiak bear—had found the compound, broken in, and destroyed it. Kendrick’s Shifters had gone to ground as per their standing contingency plan, hiding out the best they could.

When Kendrick found a new place for them to be safe, he’d contact them. But his Shifters, never the tamest, must have decided to break away and even to try to take over in the meantime. Kendrick had failed them, they must have reasoned; therefore, Kendrick had to die.

At least, he assumed that was what these attacks had been all about. He’d have to find one of these assholes and shake answers out of him.

Shifters who wanted new leadership were supposed to challenge the leader directly. They didn’t fire guns—what the hell were they thinking?—and try to simply kill that leader and his cubs.

Kendrick dressed in the darkness next to his motorcycle with its sidecars, made specially for the cubs. He mounted it, started it up.

Sirens blared into the night, law enforcement responding to whoever had called in the violence at the diner. Kendrick rolled out of town in the opposite direction from the flashing lights, the Sword of the Guardian once more strapped to his back.

*   *   *

Addie had one of the tiger cubs—she wasn’t sure which one—on her lap by the time she pulled into the parking lot of the closed gas station just off the 377. The other tiger was curled up in the front passenger seat. Robbie sat in the back, his lap full of the cubs’ clothes, his face too serious.

Addie had called her sister as she’d driven, knowing Ivy would have heard about the shooting already—nothing stayed quiet long in Loneview. Ivy had been frantic, but Addie reassured her she hadn’t been hurt. “I’m really fine. I’ll be home in a little bit,” she’d said. Ivy assumed it was because she had to talk to the police, and Addie didn’t correct her. “Tell Tori and Josh I’m all right. Give them a kiss for me.”

She’d clicked off the phone before Ivy could ask any more questions.

Addie parked and turned off the car’s lights but kept the engine running. She turned to look at Robbie, who watched her with grave eyes. “You okay back there?” she asked him. “You haven’t said much.”

Robbie shrugged. “Nothing much to say.”

“I know, sweetie.” Addie reached back and patted his jeans-clad knee. “I just want to make sure you’re all right. You want to come up here and sit with us?”

Robbie shook his head, though Addie saw in his eyes he did want to. He thought he had to be brave.