He would have.

But then, Mama Lo and Papa Bear weren’t the usual bunch.

“What do you want?” Vane asked.

Colt crossed his arms over his chest. “I was thinking… you know it would be a lot safer for everyone at Sanctuary if there were two Sentinels protecting the Peltiers.”

Vane sneered at that. “Since when does a Sentinel protect a Katagaria clan?”

Colt gave him a droll stare. “That from a Sentinel who’s stroking a Katagari wolf’s fur?”

Rage darkened Vane’s sight at the fact that Colt could see what he’d always kept hidden from everyone else. If it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to stay here for Fang’s welfare, he’d be lunging for Colt’s throat. “I’m not a Sentinel and I’m not Arcadian.”

“You can’t hide from me, Vane. Like me, you’ve chosen to hide your facial markings, but it doesn’t change what you are. We are Sentinels.”

Vane cursed him. “I will never be a Sentinel. I refuse that birthright. I won’t hunt and kill my own kind.”

“Haven’t you already done that?” Colt arched his brow. “How many Sentinels have you slain for your birth pack?”

Vane didn’t want to think about that. That had been different. They’d threatened Anya and Fang.

Colt took a step forward. “Look, I’m not here to pass judgment on you. I’m just thinking it would be easier to-”

“I’m not staying,” Vane snarled. “Wolves don’t mix with others. Once I’m strong enough to protect Fang again, we’re out of here.”

Colt took a deep breath and shook his head. “Whatever.” He turned around and left.

Vane’s heart ached as he left the room long enough to take Fang’s uneaten food to the kitchen.

If his brother didn’t snap back soon, he didn’t know what he’d do. They were both under a death sentence.

It wouldn’t be long before their father would send scouts back to determine their fate. Once they found out that both of them had survived, assassins would be coming for them. He needed Fang mobile.

He could fight alone, but carting Fang’s catatonic ass around with him wasn’t going to be easy and it wasn’t something he looked forward to doing when all he wanted was to lie down and lick his wounds too.

Damn Fang for being so selfish.

When Vane returned to his room upstairs, he found Wren just inside the door and Aimee Peltier on the bed beside Fang.

In his early thirties, Wren looked much younger. He wore his dark blond hair in dreadlocks and had yet to speak a word to Vane.

Mama Lo had told him that Wren had been brought to Sanctuary by Savitar himself. No one knew anything about Wren other than the fact that he was a Katagari hybrid and feral as hell.

Aimee was a beautiful blonde-that was if a man liked his women extremely skinny and Vane didn’t. She was the pride and joy of the Peltier clan and from what he’d seen she was one of the few truly kindhearted bears.

Vane frowned as Aimee leaned over and whispered something to Fang. She patted Fang’s fur, then rose from the bed. She froze as she caught sight of Vane.

“What did you say to him?” Vane asked.

“I told him you were both welcome here. That no one would ever hurt him again.”

Vane glanced at his brother. “We’re not staying.”

Wren gave him a wry smile. “Funny. That’s what I said too, yet here I am.”

“I’m not you, tigard.”

Anger flashed in his eyes.

Vane braced himself for the attack.

Aimee separated them. “Go on to bed, Wren. I know you’re tired.”

That seemed to diffuse his temper enough that he turned around and left.

Aimee faced Vane. “I know what Carson said about Fang, but…”

“What?”

She looked past him to where Fang lay in his stupor. “I don’t know. This just doesn’t seem like Fang to me. He’s not the kind of person to simply withdraw into himself like this and not come out of it.”

Vane scoffed. “You don’t know my brother. He’s not used to anyone getting the better of him. Ever. He took a hard blow to his ego in the swamp, but he’ll be fine. I know it.” Vane looked over his shoulder at his brother. “He’ll be better by the morning.”

Aimee didn’t respond to that. It was what Vane had been saying since they arrived. She didn’t believe it any more than he did.

But she did sense something was greatly wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it…

Yet the feeling persisted.

“Good night,” she said, offering Vane a smile before she left them.

Still unsettled, she made her way to her room where she readied herself for bed. As she washed her face and brushed her hair, she couldn’t shake the feeling deep inside her. It was like Fang was calling out to her. Like there was something he wanted her to know.

Frustrated, she went to her nightstand and grabbed her cell phone. She’d never dialed Acheron before, but she couldn’t think of anyone else who might be able to help her.

He answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Ash, it’s Aimee Peltier. How are you?”

“Confused. How did you get my number?”

Aimee raked her hand through her hair as she paced over the Oriental rug in her room. “Dev gave it to me when you gave it to him. Just in case.”

“Ah. Sorry for my abruptness. I’m not used to you guys calling me. It’s usually one of the Dark-Hunters whining.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So what can I do for you?”

“I…” She hesitated at what to say. He’d probably think her insane. How could she explain the feeling to him when even she didn’t understand it? “What do you know about Daimon attacks?”

His rich laughter filled her ear. “Not a single damn thing. Why?”

She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. Yeah, it was a stupid question given the fact he’d been fighting them for more than eleven thousand years. “I don’t know if you’ve ever met Fang Kattalakis, but he was attacked by Daimons a couple of days ago and-” Her words died as Ash appeared beside her dressed all in black. His long hair matched his clothes except for the deep burgundy stripes in it. Though he was the oldest of the Dark-Hunters in age, physically he looked only twenty-one.

“What happened?”

Aimee was too busy gaping at his unexpected entrance in her bedroom to answer his question. Standing a mean six foot eight, the man took up a lot of space in her room and possessed a raw aura of power and an unnatural sexual appeal. “How did you do that? I didn’t know Dark-Hunters could teleport.”

“Some of us can. Now what happened to Fang?”

She closed her phone and returned it to the table. “He was attacked in the swamp and now he’s comatose.”

“But not dead?”

“No, he’s not dead.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Where is he?”

Aimee led him from her room down the hall to where Fang had been given his own room. She knocked on the door and waited for Vane’s sharp growl before she pushed it open to find them where she’d left them.

Vane shot to his feet the moment he saw Acheron. “What are you doing here?” His tone was accusatory and cold.

“I heard about Fang. What happened?”

A tic started in Vane’s cheek. “It was a timoria. We were left for dead and then attacked by Daimons.”

After entering the room, Ash knelt beside the bed to examine Fang’s body. He put one large hand on Fang’s neck, then he pulled back his eyelids.

Aimee exchanged looks with Vane. “Carson says he’s in shock from the attack.”

“He says he’s dying,” Vane added.

Ash dropped his hand and looked up at them. “This is strange. It’s like he’s already dead.”

“Don’t say that!”

Ash ducked as Vane would have hit him. “You can attack me all you want to, but it changes nothing.”

Aimee put her hand on Vane’s arm, trying to comfort him. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” she asked Ash.

“Not in eleven thousand years and I don’t get it either. Daimons can feed from humans and Were-Hunters without causing harm. Yet this…”

Aimee swallowed. “It’s like they took his soul.”