Dylan had decided that Kendrick, an un-Collared Shifter that Shifter Bureau didn’t know about, could help him with covert operations he was running. They were so covert, even the Shifters in the local Shiftertowns didn’t know about them.

Dylan promised protection for Kendrick and his sons and for any un-Collared Shifter that Kendrick had led, as long as Kendrick stayed around and helped him. Kendrick saw no reason not to—he could keep looking for a new place while he assisted—but he knew deep down inside that Dylan wouldn’t let Kendrick go until he was ready.

Dylan had not been happy that Kendrick had set up his “Shiftertown” in Dylan’s area of control, though Kendrick hadn’t realized until too late he’d violated Dylan’s territory, an unforgivable act. He hadn’t understood how far Dylan’s power reached.

Kendrick sat down heavily on the bed. He should never have gone to Addison’s diner, never endangered her, or his cubs. But they’d clamored to go, happy to get out of the boring motel room and eat some real food.

Addison, her name tag read. Kendrick hadn’t been able to stop looking at the name, the label hung on her so all would know who she was. Humans so readily gave each other their most intimate names.

The cubs called her Addie. Not the same thing. Addie was cute and bouncy. Addison was more remote, lovely, like coming upon a sudden beautiful vista after climbing through a dreary, desolate landscape.

Addison had smiled at Kendrick and the cubs, her eyes warm. No distance. Addison was open, friendly, kind.

Tonight, he’d found her in his arms, her mouth crushing his in that burning kiss . . .

“Dad,” Robbie called in agitation. “Look!” He was standing up, staring at the television, his small fists balled. The younger boys, who’d been dozing at the end of one bed, sat up to see what had caught Robbie’s attention.

Kendrick fixed his gaze on the screen, the picture playing with no sound. He saw Addison being led up the steps into a building in the middle of a dark town, two men in law enforcement uniforms on either side of her. Words and numbers poured across the bottom of the screen, stock quotes, game scores, and the highlights of the story unfolding.

Shootout in Loneview. Suspected accomplice taken in for questioning.

“Turn that up,” Kendrick said.

Robbie, who’d figured out how to work every remote in the room five minutes after they’d checked in, clicked a button.

“. . . The county sheriff’s department suspects this woman of having a hand in the shooting, though it’s unclear whether she let in the shooters or covered their escape, or whether she was coerced or working with them. Police haven’t discovered the motive for the shooting—a robbery gone wrong, or an act of terrorism.”

Addie glanced once over her shoulder, her face fixed with fear she was trying not to show.

“Son of a fucking . . .” Kendrick’s words faded into snarls. “Robbie.”

Robbie gave him a solemn nod. “I’ll take care of them, Dad. Are you going to go save Addie?”

Kendrick didn’t know if he could. She was in custody of the human police, and Kendrick was an un-Collared Shifter who was breaking the law simply by existing. What the hell he could do, he didn’t know.

He’d think of something. He’d spent his whole life making things up as he went along—why stop now?

“Be ready,” he said to Robbie.

The lad knew what he meant. Robbie had learned how to lie low and then move at the drop of a hat—he’d have their collective belongings together and the littler boys prepared to go.

Robbie nodded. “Goddess go with you,” he said.