Adam's great mouth opened and he roared, more like a bear at that moment than a wolf. He dropped to all fours—and I expected him to complete the change, to become all wolf. But he didn't. I could feel him pull on the power of the pack and they gave it to him. Either it was easier to change from a transitional stage, or the pack sped his way, but it wasn't five minutes before Adam stood naked and human in the harsh fluorescent light.

He took a deep breath and stretched out his neck, the crack of his vertebrae loud in the silent garage. When he was finished, all that was left of the wolf was the scent of his anger and the amber of his eyes.

"She's still here?" he asked. "You can tell?"

"Her scent is all over," Ben answered. "I can't track her. But she'd have found a corner to hide in. She wouldn't have run." He said the last sentence absently as his eyes drifted over the shop.

"Why not?" asked Darryl, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Ben inhaled as if the question startled him. "Because you only run if you have hope. You saw what he did, heard what he told her. She's here."

They'd watched, I thought, remembering the technician telling me that Adam was recording from the cameras, too. They'd seen it: I was so ashamed I wanted to die. Then I remembered that I was going to and took comfort from the thought of the river, so cool and inviting.

"Mercy?" Adam turned in a slow circle. I tucked my nose into my tail and held very still, closing my eyes and trusting my ears to tell me if they got too close. "Everything is all right, now. You can come out."

He was wrong. Nothing was all right. He didn't love me, nobody loved me, and I would be all alone.

"You could call her," suggested Darryl.

There was a thud and a choking sound. Unable to resist, I looked.

Adam held Darryl against the wall, his forearm across his throat.

"You saw," he whispered. "You saw what he did to her. And now you suggest I do the same? Bring her to me with magic that she cannot resist?"

I knew the drink from the fae goblet was still affecting me: my stomach was burning, my body shaking like a meth addict's. But something bothered me. I still should have been able to understand Adam's reactions, right? He'd been so concerned…angry for me. But if he'd seen…

He'd know I'd been unfaithful.

Adam had declared me his mate before his pack. And if I was just learning that there were other, paranormal results, I did understand the politics involved.

A werewolf whose mate is unfaithful is seen as weak. If it is the Alpha…well, I knew that there had been one Alpha whose mate had slept around, but she did it with his permission. By not accepting Adam, I had already weakened him. If his pack knew that Tim had…that I'd let Tim…

Adam dropped his arm, freeing Darryl. "Did you hear that?"

I'd quit whining as soon as I realized I was making noise. But it was too late.

"It came from over there," said Honey. She stepped over a few pieces of Tim on her way to my side of the garage, followed by Darryl and Ben. Adam stayed where he was, his back to me, his hands braced shoulder high against the wall.

So it was him that the fae attacked when she came through my office door.

Nemane looked very little like the woman who had come to my office with Tony. Her dark hair glowed with silver and red highlights and floated about her as if held away from her body by the power of her magic. She blasted Adam with a wave of magic that knocked him halfway across the garage to land flat on his back in a puddle of dark blood. He rolled to his feet as soon as he hit and went for her.

War, I thought. If he killed her or she him, it would be war.

I was off my shelf and sprinting as fast as my three legs could manage before the thought had completed itself.

Though there was no uncertainty in his movement, she must have hurt him because I reached her before he did.

I shifted so I could talk, but I didn't get a chance because Adam hit me like a football player, his shoulder in my stomach. I don't think he meant to hit me, because he rolled under me, jerking me down with him. I never hit the ground.

Diaphragm spasming, I sprawled all over him in an awkward position that left one of my knees in his armpit and my good arm caught under his opposite shoulder. In another instant he was on his feet and I was cradled against him, all three of the other werewolves between us and the enraged fae.

I tried to talk, but he'd knocked the wind out of me.

"Shh," Adam said, never taking his eyes off the enemy. "Shh, Mercy. You'll be all right now. I've got you safe."

I swallowed against the bleak sorrow. He was wrong. I would always be alone now. Tim had told me so. He had had me, and now I would be alone forever. No, not forever because there was the river flowing nearby, almost a mile wide and so deep that it could appear black. My shop was close enough that sometimes I could catch a scent of the water from the Columbia.

Thoughts of the river calmed me, and I could think a little better.

The werewolves were waiting for Nemane to attack again. I don't know why Nemane waited, but the pause gave me a chance to talk before anyone got hurt.

"Wait," I said, getting my wind back. "Wait. Adam, this is Nemane, the fae who was sent here to deal with the guard's death."

"The one who was willing to let Zee die rather than find the real murderer?" He lifted his upper lip in contempt as he spoke.

"Adam?" Nemane said coolly. "As in Adam Hauptman? What is the werewolf Alpha doing with our stolen property?"

"They came to help me," I said.

"And who are you?" She cocked her head to the side and I realized that I didn't sound like myself. My voice was hoarse, as if I'd been smoking for a dozen years—or screaming all night. And Nemane was blind.

"Mercedes Thompson," I said.

"Coyote," she said. "What mischief have you been making tonight?" She took a step forward, into the room, and all the werewolves stiffened. "And whose blood is feeding the night?"

"I found your murderer," I told her tiredly, resting my face against Adam's bare skin. His scent washed over me in a falsely comforting wave: he didn't love me. I was so weary that I accepted the comfort while I could. I would be alone soon enough. "And he brought his own death upon himself."

The tension in the air went down noticeably as Nemane's magic quit scenting the air. But the wolves waited for Adam to tell them the danger was over.

"Darryl, call Samuel and see if he can come," Adam said quietly. "Then call Mercy's policeman. Honey, there's a blanket and some spare clothes in the back of the truck. Fetch them."

"Should we call Warren, too?" asked Ben, looking away from Nemane so he could see Adam, but his eyes stopped on my arm. "Bloody hell. Look at her wrist."

I didn't want to, so I watched Nemane, because she was the only one who didn't look horrified. It takes a bit to horrify a werewolf. I'd certainly never managed it before.

"It's crushed," said Nemane, in her cool professorial voice. "And her arm broken above it, too."

"How can you tell that?" said Honey, returning with the blankets and clothes. "You're blind."

The fae smiled. Not a happy expression. "There are other ways of seeing."

"How can they fix that?" said Ben, looking at my arm. He sounded a lot more shaken up than I expected from Ben. Werewolves are used to violence and its results.

Nemane walked past Adam like a wolf on a scent. She bent and picked up the druid horse's skin. It must have fallen off Tim when Adam ripped him to pieces.

Those pieces might haunt my dreams for a good long time, but I was too numb to be horrified by them now.

Nemane caressed the cloak and shook her head. "No wonder we couldn't find him. Here, this is what she needs." She'd found the goblet where it had rolled under my tool chest.