“Us?” Kyle scanned the room. His gaze focused on a spot just over my shoulder and his eyes darkened.
I turned.
Jason.
“He wanted to help.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to explain. Despite everything, they were best friends. Of course Jason had come to Denver.
“You shouldn’t be here. Either of you.” Kyle put a hand on my back and steered me toward the stairs.
I sidestepped him. Hating the way my voice trembled, I said, “You’re coming with us, right?”
“I . . .” Kyle shook his head. “The reasons I left haven’t changed.”
Jason was close enough to hear. “Come to the motel. We’ll talk. If you still want to stay, we’ll go, but you at least owe Mac that.”
I caught a flash of brightly colored fabric near the stairwell. The giant who was supposed to be watching us had one hand wrapped firmly around Serena’s arm and was searching the room. We were out of time.
“Please, Kyle.” I didn’t want to beg—shouldn’t have to beg—but I would. “Just come with us for a little while.” If we could just talk to him away from this place, he’d see that he belonged back home.
The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I can’t. It’ll just make things too hard. Trust me.” His hand was suddenly on my back again, steering me forward. I twisted away as Jason grabbed his arm.
“What about how hard this is on Mac? Have you thought about that?”
Kyle pulled free of Jason’s grip. “Stay out of it, Jason.”
“I can’t. I’ve spent the past four days watching her get her hopes crushed and listening to her cry when she thought I couldn’t hear.”
I froze. Our second night in Denver, I had given in to the tears I’d been holding back since leaving Hemlock. I’d tried to be quiet—locking myself in the bathroom and burying my face in a towel—and I had thought Jason was asleep, but he had heard.
He had heard and hadn’t said a word.
Jason didn’t look at me; he was totally focused on Kyle. “The guy I know would care about that.”
“You think I don’t care?” Kyle’s laugh was so bitter it sent shivers down my spine. “Everything I’m doing is because I care.”
He turned away.
He turned away and everything happened too fast.
Jason grabbed Kyle’s shoulder and Kyle shoved him. Hard. Harder than he meant to, judging from the shock that flashed across his face.
Jason stumbled six or seven feet, collided with one of the pool tables, and slid to the floor. A group of werewolves looked up from their game.
I stared at Kyle, angry and bewildered and beyond hurt. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. “That’s your best friend.” My voice cracked. “He came to Denver to help find you and that’s your response?”
I went to Jason’s side and reached down to help him up. “You okay?” He hesitated, then took my hand and staggered to his feet.
“Sure,” he muttered. “My week’s not complete until someone hits me.” He shook his head as though trying to clear it, and the fabric at his neck gaped open. I stared, horrified, as his tattoo was fully displayed.
I quickly pulled his collar closed, but I was too late. One man was already setting down his pool cue. He swore under his breath as he drew closer.
A single word was tossed from wolf to wolf: Tracker.
Games and drinks were abandoned as a semicircle of wolves closed around us. Kyle and Serena yelled our names, but I couldn’t see them through the crowd.
Jason’s fingers tightened around mine, and my hip bumped the pool table as I stepped back.
“He’s a spy. They sent a spy.” I couldn’t see the speaker, but it didn’t matter: the accusation was picked up and passed along until every face reflected a dangerous combination of fear and anger.
Kyle managed to break through the throng. He put himself between us and the nearest wolves. “He’s not a Tracker.”
A heavyset man with a lion’s mane of gray hair stalked forward. The muscles in his arms moved under his skin. “He has the tattoo.”
Kyle repositioned himself so that he was partially blocking Jason from their view. His voice was steady but with an unmistakable undercurrent of desperation. “He didn’t go through the initiation. The tattoo’s not complete. He’s not one of them.”
“You expect us to believe you? After everyone saw you talking to him? What did you do, give him the address?”
“No one gave us the address,” I said breathlessly. I caught a glimpse of Serena as she tried to make her way to the front of the crowd. “We came with Eve. She knows we’re here.”
“Bullshit,” replied the wolf. “Eve would never let a Tracker in.” The wolves pressed forward, a noose tightening around our necks.
The back of Kyle’s shirt was damp with sweat and I thought I could see muscles twitch under the fabric. “I swear: he’s just an ordinary reg. Harmless.”
“And her?” rose a voice in the crowd.
Kyle glanced at me and hesitated. Which version of the truth would get us out of this unscathed?
The wolves didn’t wait for him to decide.
In a blur of motion, a woman—partially transformed with inhuman hands and teeth—broke through the throng and tore me away from Kyle and Jason. My knees collided painfully with the floor as she forced me down. Serena shouted my name a second before the woman shredded the collar of my shirt and jacket with her claw-tipped fingers. Cold air hit my neck as she pushed my head to the side, looking for the Tracker’s brand.
Kyle was on her in an instant. His face was a mask of fury, and for the first time, I looked at him and saw a man who had killed to keep me safe. He pulled the woman off of me but lost his grip when she started to shift completely.
Bones cracked, muscles tore, and clothing fell away until a wolf with fur the color of honey had taken the woman’s place.
I tried to stand, but someone grabbed me from behind and shoved me back to my knees.
“ENOUGH!” A roar split the air, and the silence that followed was deafening.
A man strode through the crowd, two gigantic rust-colored wolves padding at his side. I strained to glimpse his face, but a hand on the back of my skull forced my gaze to the floor.
The man placed himself between me and the bulk of the wolves. “Let her go.”