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“What do the Feds want with me?” I asked as Gigi used the bed controls to raise me from a supine position to a sitting one, moving pillows around so I remained comfortable.

“What do we want with you?” The tall, statuesque Black woman repeated my question, her voice like a whip. “Well, since you’re asking, the bureau would like you in jail for interfering with an ongoing federal operation, Mr. Houghton-Crowne.”

“Deacon, please,” I said, because my last name was a lot. “And I saved the omegas.”

“Which we would have done as well,” she said sharply. “We were ten minutes behind you at most, but because you acted on your own, with your scrappy little team⁠—”

“Now wait a second. My team is⁠—”

“Full of mercenaries who, fortunately for them, we haven’t identified yet,” she growled, turning to Graeme. “But when I do, they’re all going to prison.”

“Listen.” That was the man standing on her right. He was just as tall, I was thinking maybe six-two, but not as scary or impressive. “If we catch you anywhere near either Rossellini again, father or son, we will arrest you. You need to stop these Batman antics of yours.”

“Batman?” I scoffed, chuckling. “He wishes he had my tech.”

“Don’t be glib,” Graeme warned, clearly tired of me. “No one finds you amusing.”

Before either of the FBI agents could shoot me—which, with the way she kept patting her gun, the woman especially seemed likely to do—Gigi apologized and Graeme escorted them out of my room. When I laughed, my body ached, and I asked my cousin to hit the meds for me.

“Not yet,” she said, perching on the bed beside me. “First, we all want to hear what happened five nights ago.”

“Five?” I was stunned.

She nodded. “Counting Monday night, when you were brought in, yes. You were out for the first three, in and out for two, and the doctor said you’d probably wake up today, Saturday, which, joy of joys, you have.”

“That was snide.”

She shrugged. “It can’t be helped. You really outdid yourself with your shenanigans this time, which included nearly dying.”

I huffed out a breath. “I could literally eat a horse.”

“I’m having food delivered. It should be here shortly.”

“Food?”

“Meat,” she amended irritably. “Raw meat. I know what you need, what every lupine needs after shifting and being hurt. Don’t annoy me any more than I already am.” Her voice went up at the end to a near shout.

“Why’re you annoyed?”

“Again, you nearly died!” She did yell that time. “I nearly lost you.”

I stared up at her, and after a moment, she looked away, wiping quickly under her eyes.

Fuck.

I reached for her hand, but she recoiled, crossing her arms instead.

“C’mon, peach,” I murmured, softening my voice, “I’m sorry.”

Quick snarl from the back of her throat.

“C’mon,” I coaxed, holding out my hand. It hurt a bit.

She grabbed it in both of hers and held tight, and I had a moment to breathe before Graeme, who was scowling darkly, stepped in next to the other side of my bed.

“Hey,” I greeted him cheerfully.

“No,” he nearly snarled. “You are pushing at the edges of the protection I can offer, so before what you’re doing crosses any deeper into what is legally permissible, you will now tell my mate and his partner precisely what happened on the night in question.”