Memory led the nurse inside without further words. She was aware of Alexei and the alpha wolf coming to stand in the substation doorway—which they propped open—and knew it was because they didn’t trust her with Lucy. It hurt her under her simmering anger at the world, but paradoxically, she was glad of their presence.

She had no way of knowing what Renault had planted in her head. She’d been his puppet for fifteen years. He’d dug around in her brain as if it were his personal playground—the only thing that had put any kind of a limit on his invasions had been the risk of permanently injuring her ability.

He needed what she could do. He needed her darkness.

Once inside the bedroom, she cooperated with all of Lucy’s tests, even when the other woman asked to take a blood sample. “I want a copy of your results,” she said to Lucy. “I need to know myself.”

“Standard procedure,” Lucy assured her, taking the blood sample with gentle competence. “Just so you know, changeling healers kind of sit outside the power structure of a pack.” She put the sample away in a special case. “We don’t get involved in politics and we ignore the rules, except when it comes to the safety of the pack. Our priority is the patient.”

Memory wondered if she’d fall under the single caveat. Would her blood show a risk to the pack? She couldn’t see how. Renault’s abuses and manipulations had been mental. It was her own private darkness that lived in her blood, a secret ugliness she could never expose to the world.

“Done.” After putting away her tools, Lucy opened up another compartment in her rucksack. “You’re underweight and slightly malnourished, but not enough for it to be dangerous. Especially if I get you on a replacement routine.” She passed over a small, sealed box. “One sachet into a glass of water, mix, and drink with every meal.”

The box had the markings of a commercial health firm and appeared to be nothing but a potent mix of vitamins and minerals. “Thank you,” she said to this wolf who had been nothing but kind; her throat felt thick, her eyes hot.

Lucy patted her hand with a firm, comforting touch . . . and the tiny stabs stopped again. “I’ll have our nutritionist prepare a full meal-plan for you,” she said. “Sachets are just a stopgap.”

Mouth dry, Memory held out her hand. Lucy took it as if it was perfectly normal to have a stranger reach for physical contact. And the tiny stabs, they stopped again. Lucy maintained the contact while the two of them spoke about pragmatic things such as protein and carbohydrates. “Touch is important for healing, too,” Lucy murmured at the end, the comment a private one between them. “Wolves go crazy without it. I’ve heard Es are the same.”

Memory broke the contact with a jerking motion. The tiny stabs returned alongside her knowledge that she was no E, didn’t deserve this kind of sympathy and care.

Lucy didn’t demand that Memory explain her sudden movement. Instead she said, “Do you have any final questions for me?”

Swallowing to wet a dry throat, Memory made herself ask. “The way I move . . .”

“All your reflexes are within the normal range,” Lucy said at once. “Our senior healer is going to go over all the data I’ve collected today, and she’ll get in touch with you if there’s anything to discuss, but I see no signs of permanent damage.” Kind eyes, soft voice. “Have you begun to move better since your rescue?”

“Yes, a little.”

“That’s an excellent sign. No M-Psy will tell you this, but the body and the soul are as deeply connected as the body and the mind.” She closed her hand over Memory’s again, after first catching Memory’s eye in a silent request for permission that Memory couldn’t withhold, not with a wolf so intensely kind that it was a song in the air around her. “It might be that the way you move was a subconscious rebellion against your captor—to make things harder for him.”

Memory’s eyes widened. She’d never considered that, and yet it made perfect sense that her trapped body had rebelled in the only way left to it. “Oh.”

“It could also be that you have a psychic injury I can’t detect,” Lucy cautioned, “but again, the fact you’re improving tells me it’s not a deep one.” She squeezed Memory’s hand. “You’re not alone anymore, Memory. We’ll help you heal.”

Memory blinked rapidly, the heat in her eyes too much. She wanted to hug Lucy’s promise close, just wallow in it, but she knew the nurse couldn’t have any idea of all the factors in play. The alpha believed Memory had faked being a prisoner, that she was in league with Renault.

Alexei believed that, too.

Memory’s skin burned with a renewed burst of fury. She didn’t know why he’d held her then, why he’d rumbled words to her she hadn’t heard through the angry, hopeless, desolate haze in her head. Renault had shut every door in her face, stolen her freedom even though she’d left the cage.

No one would ever believe her, ever offer her a sanctuary where she could get strong enough to end the bastard forever. She’d wind up facing Renault weak and ragged. Memory gritted her teeth. If that was what it came to, she’d make a bomb and hide it in her clothes, take them both out in a single blast. At least it would save his future victims.

“Memory.” Lucy’s voice was breathless.

Realizing what she’d done, Memory throttled her violent emotions. Her blood was cold. Lucy would hate her now. “I’m so sor—”

“Hush.” Leaning in, the other woman gave her a firm hug. “Stretch out your claws, find your power,” she whispered in Memory’s ear before she rose to her feet and picked up her rucksack.

Memory followed the nurse out of the bedroom. Lucy went to Hawke. Memory watched the alpha put one arm around her shoulders before the two of them stepped out of the substation.

Alexei met Memory’s gaze, a scowl darkening his face. “I can’t take you to our den.”

She’d known it was coming, but the proclamation still punched all the air out of her. If she wasn’t welcome in SnowDancer territory, then she’d never again see him once he drove her out of wolf lands. And no, she wouldn’t miss him; even she wasn’t crazy enough to miss a golden wolf stuck in growl mode.

Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails cutting into her skin.

She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t! Despite the fact she had nowhere to go, knew no one in the world. The only person who’d have taken her in was long dead, the last image she had of her mother the horrific one of her body discarded on the hardwood floor of a small home on the outskirts of Carson City, Nevada.

“Fine,” she snapped, because she would not beg. All she had left was her pride.

“Simmer down, lioness—save the death stare for when I really annoy you.” The damn provoking wolf put his hands on his hips while she decided she’d put two tiny, biting insects on him. “The pack needs to figure out if you’re a threat, and you need to learn psychic control before you push a bunch of wolves into a bloodbath.”

Memory’s stomach fell. “I could do that?” Another horrible “gift” to add to her psychopathic résumé.

“Chances are that SnowDancer wolves are disciplined enough to grit their teeth and release the aggression in another way, but yeah, you could push deadly buttons in less well-trained predators.” A ring of amber appeared around the gray of his irises. “You look like you’ve swallowed acid—lot of people would love that type of power.”

Memory stared at him, aghast.

His lips curved into a slow smile that made things inside her curl and uncurl even as she tried to work out why they were still talking if she was being ejected from wolf territory.

“I figured as much,” he said, so smug she wanted to tumble him to the ground and teach him not to taunt her.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, his smile grew deeper. “You’re an E under the ferocious roar and the evil plans with tiny insects.” A dark look on those last words. “That’s why you need to go to the compound.”

“What are you talking about, you infuriating wolf?” It came out belligerent.

“The Arrows got permission from us wolves—and from the DarkRiver leopards—to set up an empathic training area in a spot along the leopard-wolf border.” He prowled closer, all heat and confidence and a physicality that compelled her to watch. “A cardinal empath will be waiting to assess you, offer you initial help.”

Memory stood her ground in the face of his push into her personal space—she understood a wolfish challenge when she saw it. It severely irritated her, however, that she had to tip back her head to continue to hold the aggressive eye contact. “Sascha Duncan?” No one with access to the comm could have avoided hearing about the cardinal’s defection. Not only was Sascha a cardinal, part of the most powerful and rare group of Psy in the world, she was the daughter of a Councilor.

Yet she’d dropped out of the PsyNet to mate with an alpha leopard—and had survived the disconnection.

“Yes,” Alexei confirmed, his energy wrapping around her like a wolf’s fur. As his arms had wrapped around her earlier.

She hungered for another taste of that wild warmth, the muscled heat of him making her feel like a cat herself. But asking to be held was outside her vocabulary, and it was a foolish thought anyway. She knew how she would end. In blood. Spiraling down into an abyss tenanted by monsters.

It was her oh-so-special “talent,” the thing that made her irresistible to Renault.

The “psychopath whisperer,” that was Memory.

Chapter 15

Pack is built on the bonds of family, of mating, of love.

—Hawke Snow

SIENNA STOOD HIDDEN in the trees that edged the clearing. Beside her stood multiple other packmates, all in wolf form. Everyone who’d been briefed on the discovery of the bunker knew the memories it’d awaken for Hawke, the pain it’d make fresh. So half of them had followed him up here, though he hadn’t asked. The other half would protect the den so Hawke could do this without worry about their vulnerable.