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I'd forgotten who had taught me how dangerous overlooked people could be. Sorsha hadn't tried to climb the social ladder with them. She'd gone around it. I'd handed my mother two dead ends. She'd turned them into back doors.

"Rosalind," my mother purred, stepping forward.

I smiled, forcing my voice into a sweet, polite cadence. "Mother."

Sorsha stopped inches from me, her scent—crisp ozone and suffocating control—filling my lungs. She leaned in, her lips brushing close to my ear as her manicured hand came up to lovingly smooth a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Thank you for the introductions, darling," Sorsha whispered, her tone dropping into a deadly, low register that sent a shiver down my spine. "But the next time you decide to play against me, make certain you know all the pieces on the board."

Her fingers tightened on my shoulder—a subtle, cruel pressure.

"I know what you've been doing, Rosalind," she breathed, her words slicing into me like a razor. "I know about the Ironwood leaks."

My pulse thudded in my throat and waited for more. There was none. She knew one detail, but not all. And that one detail, I'd already confessed. Or, Gunnar had found out — whatever. I went through my Rolodex of facial expressions, trying to figure out which one would look like I was cowed.

"Remember who made you," Sorsha murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "You belong to me. And if you attempt to cross me again, I won't just destroy your little revenge plot—I will make certain Gunnar Blackwood watches you burn."

It was a bluff. She didn't know more. But could I chance it?

For one terrible second, I was a little girl again. Sunglasses covering my eyes. Hands folded in my lap. Listening while Mother decided what I could do, where I could go, what parts of me the world was allowed to see.

Helpless.

Weak.

No, my wolf stirred. I wasn't helpless. And I had claws.

I stepped forward and threw my arms around my mother. Anyone watching would see a daughter embracing the mother she hadn't seen since her wedding. They wouldn't see my hand slide higher up her back. They wouldn't feel my claws emerge. Just the tips. I pressed them through the expensive fabric covering her spine. I put my mouth next to her ear.

"If you tell," I whispered, "I will."

Silence. I didn't need to explain. I had spent years collecting information about every pack in the tristate area. Including my own.

I didn't bother to elaborate on what I may or may not have known. My mother had so many secrets. Starting with the last one of sending me into Blackwood Manor as a spy. Either way, it was mutually assured destruction. Except I had a hero to rescue me.

My claws pressed a fraction deeper. "Do we understand each other?"

For several heartbeats, my mother said nothing. Then her arms came around me. Not tentatively. Tightly. Almost affectionately.

"Oh, Rosalind," she whispered.

Something in her voice made my wolf go still. I retracted my claws before anyone could see them. Her hands remained on my shoulders as she looked at me. And for one impossible second, I thought I saw something on Sorsha Lobo's face.

Pride.

A thunderous crash split the air. Wood splintered. Glass shattered. Women screamed as the heavy front doors slammed into something hard enough to shake the floor beneath my feet.

Then came the boots. Dozens of them pounding across marble. Fast. Heavy. Coordinated.

"POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!"

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

GUNNAR

Athunderous crash split the air. Wood splintered. Glass shattered. The front doors of the Lupetto gym slammed inward hard enough to rattle the heavy bags hanging from the ceiling.

Then came the boots. Dozens of them pounding across concrete. Fast. Heavy. Coordinated.