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"I trust you to do what any woman would do," Mei Ling said, stepping closer until the scent of jasmine enveloped us. "And that is whatever is in the best interest of you and your family."

I let out a soft, breathy sound that was almost a laugh. "Isn't my mother my family?"

Mei Ling paused, her dark silhouette perfectly still against the light from the window. "That's your choice, Rosalind."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

GUNNAR

Heavy bags hung from steel beams across the main floor of the Lupetto gym. Ropes slapped against rubber mats. Gloves struck pads in violent bursts. Somewhere to my left, somebody grunted as a fist connected with flesh.

I walked through the gym with Magnus and Vidar, Ivar trailing behind us

We were here looking for Valentino. Instead, I found Casanova. He was in the ring with Romeo, both Lupetto twins stripped to the waist and slick with sweat. Identical faces. Identical builds. But I'd sparred with them enough to know the difference. Romeo planted his feet when he fought, all power and punishment. Casanova stayed light on his, always moving, always looking for an opening.

Casanova ducked a jab and drove his fist into Romeo's ribs.

Romeo grunted.

Too slow. He'd dropped his right elbow before Casanova committed to the punch. A small mistake. Less than an inch of unnecessary movement. An inch was enough. The liver sat beneath the lower ribs on the right side of the body. Hit it correctly, and the nervous system could override every intention a man had to remain standing.

Casanova drove another punch toward the same spot. Romeo twisted out of range.

"Stop looking at them like you want a turn," Magnus said. "We're here on business."

A door opened at the back of the gym. Valentino stepped out, looking like he'd taken a wrong turn on his way to a board meeting. While every other man in the place was bare-chested and wearing shorts or sweats, the Lupetto Alpha wore a perfectly tailored suit and polished designer shoes that probably cost more than the boxing ring.

A young woman followed him. She looked just as out of place, but in the opposite direction. A floral sundress fell below her knees, with a soft cardigan buttoned over it despite the heat of the gym. Sweet. Modest. The kind of young woman you'd expect to find carrying a basket through a meadow, not following a mafia Alpha into a room full of sweaty werewolves.

Ivar stopped. Standing beside him, I heard his heartbeat slam once. Twice. Then took off like a stampeding horse. The teenage wolf's eyes went gold.

"Oh, fuck."

Ivar stared at the girl. She was young. Around his age. Dark hair. Lupetto eyes. I knew who she was without an introduction. Beatrice. Valentino's little sister.

Ivar's lips parted. His juvenile canines dropped. Coupled with the wolf peeking out of his gold eyes, this was not good.

Magnus moved faster than I did. His hand closed around the back of Ivar's jacket. Magnus hauled him backward. Ivar's feet actually dragged across the floor.

"Magnus." Ivar's voice was more growl than speech.

"Nope," the heir to the Blackwood dynasty said in his alpha voice.

"Let go." Ivar had left puberty years ago. Today, his voice dropped into the baritone register of a full grown dominate wolf.

"Absolutely fucking not." Magnus' voice was deeper, full of command.

Beatrice finally noticed them. Ivar made some sound I hoped never came out of my mouth. It was a wounded, hungry sound. Half rage at being kept from what he wanted, half desperate need to close the distance between himself and the object of desire. That was what a wolf sounded like when somebody stood between him and the one thing in the world he believed belonged to him.

Magnus yanked open the side door and dragged our youngest brother through it.

Casanova stopped sparring.

Romeo lowered his gloves.

Vidar rubbed a hand over his face.

Valentino stared at the door. Then at us.