Memory blew out a shaky breath, the nagging question of how a Tk could help heal someone shoved aside by her relief. “I’m so glad for Jaya—she loves Abbot so much.” Then, fingers digging into her thighs, she said, “Yuri?”

Face soft, Sascha shook her head. “No news. Aden hasn’t made the call yet.”

What must it cost an alpha to decide on life or death for one of his own? Aden, Memory knew, would wear Yuri’s name on his soul forever. As Hawke must wear Brodie’s.

“He never really spoke to me,” Sascha murmured, and when Memory looked up, said, “Yuri. He liked you, felt comfortable with you.”

“It’s because of the darkness in me.” At that instant, Memory was grateful to that darkness; without it, she might’ve never come to know the intensely private Arrow. “I wish we’d had longer—I think he’s the kind of friend who would’ve been there all my life, become an uncle to any children I might one day have.”

Memory swallowed hard. “Another Arrow invited him to join her for dinner that day . . . the day he got hurt. She made it a point to mention that she wasn’t inviting him as a squadmate, but as a man who intrigued her—I think he was surprised, but in a good way.” Always difficult to read, Yuri had nonetheless felt quietly happy to her empathic senses. “He asked me about the ‘protocol’ of whether he was expected to take a gift.”

Sorrow drenched Sascha’s expression. Closing her hand over Memory’s she said, “What did you tell him?”

“I was going to say to take flowers—I read about romantic gifts in Wild Woman.” Her chest ached. “But then I wondered if an experienced Arrow would like that, and said he should take a small thing that related to her, so she’d know he paid attention to her.”

Memory’s mouth curved, her lower lip trembling. “He said he’d noticed her uniform jacket was getting worn, but that she liked the fit too much to order a replacement. He was going to take a repair kit and offer to seal up any thin patches so she could continue to stay safe while wearing it.”

Sascha’s eyes shone wet. “Sounds perfect.”

“I thought so, too.” Despite everything, Memory kept hoping for a miracle, for Yuri to get a chance to go on that dinner date and fix his date’s jacket. It wasn’t fair that he’d spent his entire life in darkness only to die when he’d just experienced sunlight. “I’m going to hope for him until his heart stops beating.”

She expected Sascha to advise that it was foolish to do that, that false hope would only make it hurt more in the end, but the cardinal blinked rapidly before saying, “Me, too,” in a husky voice. “I was like Yuri once, closed inside myself, given no choices.”

Sascha’s breath caught, her free hand fisting on the table. “He deserves better than this, deserves a chance to—” She broke off, staring down at the table.

Unable to see her friend in such pain, Memory jerked from her seat to go around and hug Sascha from behind, wrapping her arms around the empath’s neck. She was so used to thinking of Sascha as she was now—mated to an alpha leopard, mother to a panther cub, confident in her skin—that she forgot Sascha had been the first E to break the cruel chains of Silence.

Her cardinal light had been buried for more than two decades.

“We’ll be foolishly hopeful together,” Memory whispered, pressing her cheek to Sascha’s temple. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

A wet laugh as Sascha placed her hand on Memory’s forearm. “Deal.”

* * *

• • •

    LATER, while Memory got out the ingredients for hot chocolates, Sascha called her mate at the pack’s city HQ. “My cub’s there, too,” she said to Memory as she input Lucas Hunter’s call code. “Daycare’s attached to the HQ, with full access from one section to the other.”

The call connected. “Kitten,” said a deep male voice.

Sascha had asked to use the wall comm, but when Memory went to step out so the two could talk alone, Sascha waved her over instead and introduced her to Lucas. Green-eyed and black-haired, with muted gold skin, he had the same deadly intensity to him as Alexei’s alpha. The four jagged lines that marked the right side of his face, akin to the claw marks of a large cat, just added to the sense of contained power.

“Hello, Memory,” he drawled with a slow smile. “I hear you enjoy hurling insults at wolves.”

“It was one time,” Memory protested, remembering too late that she’d also once called Alexei a plain old chicken. “Anyway, he deserved it!”

Lucas’s grin deepened. “Wolves always deserve it. I’m going to use ‘big, wolfy chicken’ the next time Hawke annoys me.”

Memory found her mouth tugging up at the corners; she had zero doubts that Lucas Hunter was a deadly predator, but he was also charming in a very feline way. She could see why Sascha had fallen for him—but she felt no attraction herself. She liked her man to be a growly grouch who courted her with delicious food and used his teeth on her lips.

“I’m going to finish making the hot chocolate so you two can talk,” she said. “Oh, and you can insult any wolf but Alexei. He’s mine.”

A sigh. “And another sane woman falls for a flea-bitten dog on steroids.”

“Pay no attention to him.” Hands on her hips, Sascha scowled at her mate. “He and Hawke are friends.”

“Sascha darling, we need to talk about that terrible lie you keep spreading.”

Memory’s shoulders shook as she boiled milk for the hot chocolates. It looked like Lucas could growl, too, when he wanted to, but Sascha was more than capable of tangling with her alpha mate. Though the two weren’t talking about anything intimate, Memory felt a slight intruder . . . but she stayed. It was nice to be around such open affection.

She wondered if this was what it was like in a wolf den. Love worn openly, lives shared with packmates, care expected and given. Her stomach got all warm at the thought. Being so entwined in the daily lives of people who were her own, it was her vision of heaven.

“Naya snuck out of daycare again,” Lucas said a few minutes into the conversation, his tone amused. “She likes to hide under Mercy’s desk. Mercy always kicks off her shoes when in the office—prime biting material.”

“Oh, Lucas, you shouldn’t encourage her.” Sascha’s voice held affectionate laughter.

“It’s Mercy you need to talk to—every time Naya launches a successful stealth attack on her toes, Mercy pets her and calls her a strong hunter.” Pride prowled below the humor. “At which point, Naya runs in here to tell me of her successful mission.”

“I want to snuggle her face so much right now,” Sascha murmured.

“Tell me what’s wrong, kitten.” A voice that sounded like a purr.

Memory did step out then, to give the couple privacy. She was hoping to see Alexei, but couldn’t spot him. Returning inside after Sascha ended her call not long afterward, she took the hot chocolates to the table and the two of them settled into their chairs.

“I’d like for Judd to take a look at your mind,” Sascha began. “I want him to see if he can spot any back doors I might’ve missed. He’s an expert in a way I’ll never be. But, Memory, the decision is yours.”

Memory’s stomach churned at the idea of a stranger inside her mind, but any surviving back door was a major threat. Renault had been too panicked to exploit any holes in her defenses on their most recent encounter—he might be calmer and luckier next time. “Yes,” she said to Sascha. “I want to make sure my mind is airtight.”

“I’ll call, see if Judd is nearby.”

Only five minutes later, Alexei walked through the door ahead of a dark-eyed and dark-haired man who moved with a fluid grace that shouted “telekinetic.” Memory’s stomach muscles clenched.

“Forgot to give you these earlier.” Alexei tugged on one of her curls as he dropped a bunch of granola bars in front of her. “I got a smack on the hand from the cook for snagging more than my fair share.” A scowl. “You better eat them or I won’t steal you more.”

Making a face at him, Memory said, “I see the good mood was a fleeting thing.”

He tugged on another curl, but shifted his gaze to the man with him. “This is Judd.”

“I won’t invade your thoughts,” the Tk said in a cool voice. “My only aim is to check for any holes created deep in your mind by your captor.”

Alexei clasped her nape in a caressing grip. “Judd’s one of my best friends and I’d trust him with my life—he won’t hurt you.”

The rough honesty of his words helped her defeat the fear crushing her heart. “What do you need me to do?” she asked Judd.

“Lower your shields.” His eyes were a deep brown with flecks of gold, far warmer than his voice. “I won’t enter unless you do.”

It took teeth-gritted focus on her part to force down her shields, even more focus not to shove them back up the instant a powerful mind entered hers. But he kept his word, going nowhere near her thoughts or secrets, his focus on the structure of her mind.

“I’m done,” he said in a matter of minutes, and she slammed up her shields.

“Is it bad?” Sascha frowned.

A shake of Judd’s head. “You two got most of them.” He switched his attention to Memory. “Your captor wasn’t subtle or skilled—the hidden doors are basic hacks I learned as a seven-year-old Arrow trainee.”

Memory wondered if she was imagining the insulting edge to his tone—he was so icy and distant . . . but he was also Alexei’s friend. Alexei, who had no ice in him.

“Don’t hold back,” she said with a wry smile.

No change in his expression, but his emotions held definite amusement. “Only reason Sascha couldn’t see these final doors was because she’s an E. Your designation isn’t endowed with the gene for deviousness.”