“These are Es, Alexei,” Jaya reminded him. “They’re horrified by their behavior after they recover from brushing up against that awful cold nothingness, and then they fall over themselves apologizing, but it hurts Memory all the same.”

Jaw a brutal line, Alexei said, “I’m taking her out of here for the night.” Away from people who hurt her even if they didn’t mean to, and into the world of his wolf.

Jaya’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, you realize she curses your name on a daily basis?”

Alexei’s wolf bared its teeth inside him. “Good.” Anger fueled Memory’s strength.

* * *

• • •

MEMORY scuffed at the grass with one sneakered foot. She’d scared Cordelia today, and Cordelia was an intensely kind soul destined to be a medical E. Four hours ago, the other woman had made inadvertent physical contact with Memory after a session with Amara. Memory’s friend had whimpered, then thrown up.

Poor Cordelia had come by again not long ago, tears rolling down her sweet round face and her creamy skin blotchy. “I’m so sorry, Memory. I don’t know why I reacted that way. I’m so sorry.”

Memory had hugged Cordelia to show her there were no hard feelings, but as late afternoon darkened into early evening, she faced an unpalatable truth that had nothing to do with Renault’s subtle attacks on her confidence: her kind of darkness didn’t fit with the sunshine and warmth of Designation E.

She was the ugly stepchild.

No, that wasn’t fair to her fellow Es, her friends. Not one of them had been anything but mortified by their behavior. It didn’t matter how Memory tried to explain that it had to do with her and the echo of her work with Amara, they still looked like kicked puppies, all bruised eyes and shame.

How could she live in this community when she gave her friends nightmares?

A kiss of primal wildness against her senses, an edgy wolfish scent.

Memory gripped one of the posts that held up the porch roof and refused to look. Not even when a pair of scuffed boots stopped in front of her. “Nice skirt.”

Memory was wearing an ankle-length skirt in silvery white that was all air and clouds. She’d found it at a cut-rate price on a site that sold “seconds and remainders”—the idea of rescuing slightly blemished clothes from being discarded made her even happier than buying shiny, perfect things, and it was now her favorite site.

The “blemish” on this piece was a small drop of pink paint on the hem. To Memory, that just made the skirt even more wonderful and unique.

Her fellow Es had been agog the first time she’d worn it. At least that was one thing she’d changed for the better—the sedate Psy dress code was well on its way out of the compound. Cordelia had begun ordering colorful dresses with flared skirts and Joseph had found Hawaiian shirts, while Reema had discovered the joys of makeup.

Only the Arrows remained black-clad and unmoved by the change, but Memory was working on that. After discovering that it was Yuri’s birthday a few days back, she’d bought him a long-sleeved black T-shirt, such as those she’d noticed many of the squad wore under their high-collared and bulletproof uniform jackets—except her chosen tee had a thin stripe of silver down the outside of each sleeve.

Yuri had worn it today; it was hidden under his jacket, but he’d made a point to tell her that he’d caused a commotion among his squadmates with his “sudden stylistic prowess.” He’d also asked her advice on how to respond to an understated but clear overture from a senior female Arrow.

Memory’s heart had nearly burst in joy at the indication of Yuri’s growing world, but her friend wasn’t the male who stood in front of her, taking up all the air in the yard and blocking the last of the light.

“Hello, lioness.”

“Go away,” she muttered, wanting to brood alone—and definitely not anywhere near this wolf who’d ignored her for three weeks.

“Can you even walk in that skirt?” he asked dubiously.

She pulled up the skirt to show him her glittery sneakers. The stupid things were her favorites. Dropping her skirt when she realized she’d let him taunt her into betraying herself, she glared at the ground. “I said, go away.”

He tugged at a curl that had escaped her messy ponytail. When she slapped his hand away, he just found another curl to tug. Hands fisting, she jumped to her feet and put a foot of distance between them. “What do you want, you big, wolfy chicken?”

The beautiful golden god of a man—who was half demon—smiled at her instead of snarling in insult. “Want to get out of here?”

It was the only thing he could’ve said that would cut through her morose mood. “Yes, let’s go.” At least she could be furious with Alexei without making anyone feel bad—it certainly had no effect on him.

Her skirt flowed around her as she strode toward the trees, the fabric as light as air. Suspiciously silent at her side, Alexei easily kept pace. When they passed Jaya coming the other way, the other E stopped to enclose Memory in the warm acceptance of her arms, not minding that Memory had stiffened in instinctive self-protectiveness.

“Give him hell,” her friend whispered in her ear. “Arrows and wolves, they’re the same. Show him your teeth.”

Memory had every intention of biting Alexei with those teeth.

“Here.” Alexei handed her his jacket.

About to snub the offer, Memory looked at his face and realized the obstinate wolf wouldn’t take her deep into the forest unless she agreed to this. And Memory needed to leave, to get some clear air. Also, it was cold now that the sun had set. Snatching the olive-green thing from him, she shrugged into it, then rolled up the sleeves with quick motions.

The two of them had just stepped beyond the tree line when a roar of sound hit Memory’s telepathic senses. Not an attack. A call for help, directed at her. “Yuri!” She turned on her heel . . . and a scream split the air, reverberating against the trees.

* * *

• • •

ALEXEI was moving even before he’d consciously processed Memory’s reaction and the chilling scream that followed. “Talk to me!” he said to her as the two of them ran back to the compound.

“Yuri yelled for help!”

Fuck! Yuri was the most senior Arrow in the compound. Why would a man of his lethal skills call for an inexperienced E? It had to be bad.

“Go!” Memory yelled, a sob in her voice. “I can’t keep up! Yuri’s mind is gone! I can’t reach him!”

Alexei pounded into a ground-erasing run, his heart punching against his rib cage. He could have a catastrophic medical emergency on his hands. Sascha had briefed him on the compound when he first took over Indigo’s oversight task, and one of the things he’d learned from her was that many newly emergent Es didn’t know how to protect themselves against dangerous surges of emotion.

If Yuri was dead as a result of violence . . .

Memory was still standing, he reminded himself. It gave him hope. Until he scented wet iron on the air. Blood.

His gaze snagged on a fallen body.

Yuri was down with a bloody wound to the head. A silent weapon, because Alexei’s acute hearing had picked up nothing of the attack itself, only the aftermath. Three collapsed bodies lay on the ground nearby, all of them twitching.

Empaths who’d overloaded at the close proximity to violence.

Other black-clad men and women were hauling Es out of danger. But what the fuck was the danger? Who had managed to not only invade this deep into predatory changeling territory, but take down an Arrow honed by decades of active duty? He dropped down beside Yuri’s body, felt for a pulse with no real hope. The senior Arrow’s face was awash in blood, part of his skull blown off.

Jesus!

“He’s alive!”

An Arrow Alexei recognized as a trained medic slammed down beside him, already tearing off her jacket to stanch the bleeding.

Memory’s voice crashed into him at the same instant. “Abbot!” She hit the edge of the chaos, her chest heaving from her headlong run and her skirt like air around her. “Alexei, it’s got Abbot!”

Alexei snapped his head toward where he’d last seen the Arrow with black hair and searing blue eyes. Abbot had been grabbing Es and ’porting them out of danger, but now he stood with his weapon in his hand, and that weapon was pointed directly at a dark-eyed empath with a lovely oval face.

Jaya.

Alexei began to move, but he was too far away. He couldn’t knock the weapon out of Abbot’s hand faster than the man could activate it. Jaya held out her hands, palms up. “Abbot, habibi”—soft voice, no hesitation—“this isn’t you. Fight it. Use the bond that ties us together and fight it. I’m your wife. Your Jaya.”

As Alexei watched, a vein began to pulse in Abbot’s temple, sweat dripping down his face. His jaw clenched . . . and the gun began to change direction. Toward Abbot. All at once, Alexei knew who had taken out Yuri.

He was close enough now to slam his body into Abbot’s arm, but Abbot was a strong Arrow, and Alexei was a split second too late. The weapon went off.

Blood sprayed the air.

Jaya screamed, “NO!”

Her terror was grating claws on his skin, Abbot’s blood iron in his nose.

Memory ran past him in the direction of another Arrow—one who only stepped in for the odd security shift to keep her skills sharp. Elsewise, Cristabel was one of the squad’s most respected trainers. Right now, Cris was standing there, looking confused, doing nothing aggressive at all, but Alexei trusted Memory’s instincts. She’d been right about Abbot.

He took off in her wake, quickly passing her.

Cristabel was just reaching for her weapon when Alexei got to her. He knocked her out with an uppercut to the jaw. He was careful to pull the punch because Psy bones were weaker than changeling. Cristabel went down, but she was very much alive.

“Incapacitate yourselves and each other!” he yelled at the Arrows. “You are the threat!”