"I don't know." He coughed, a hacking sound that tore at me. "But he knew who I was."

"How?"

He shrugged, and gave a bitter laugh, "He gave me one small comfort, though. He said I was a good fuck and he'd miss me. At least I haven't lost my touch in that area."

Something inside froze.

I'd heard those words before.

In the Blue Moon, when Rhoan had been snatched for milking and I'd only just started looking for him. I'd gone there to find either of Rhoan's mates in the vague hope they might know something. Liander hadn't been there, but Davern was. He'd been sitting at a table, getting pissed because he'd broken up with some guy. When I'd asked him why it even mattered, he'd repeated that same phrase. That exact same phrase.

That was why Starr's bloodshot eyes had seemed so familiar. Davern's eyes that night were the image of Starr's.

Davern was Starr.

But if that were true, why had Misha said that the ringleader of this whole shebang didn't know who I was? Had he been primed to say that at a certain question? Misha might have skirmished from the edges and found ways to avoid some of Starr's edicts, but in the end, he couldn't totally escape the control Starr had on him. And that control had killed him.

"Riley?"

I blinked at the sharpness in my brother's voice, and glanced down. "It's Davern. Starr is Davern."

"What?" Jack and Rhoan said as one.

"Where the hell did that conclusion come from?" Jack added.

I shrugged. In truth, I probably couldn't justify the statement with facts, but intuition had gotten me out of more trouble than it had landed me in, and I wasn't about to start questioning it now. "When I met Starr for the first time, he felt familiar. There was something about his eyes I'd seen before—and now I remember where. In the Blue Moon, when I was talking to Davern and trying to find Rhoan. I thought at the time his eyes were red because of the booze, but, despite appearances, he didn't really act drunk. He said he'd just broken up with another mate and used that exact term."

"Coincidence."

I glanced at Jack. "Is it? Misha told us several times that the man behind all this was someone in my life. We'd always presumed that meant a lover of mine, but Rhoan's mates are in my life as much as his."

"He's from the Helki pack," Rhoan mused. "They're able to take on multiple human forms, so in theory, it could be possible."

"But it makes no sense that Davern would do that. He had Misha and Talon watching Riley, and Gautier at the Directorate. He didn't need to put anyone on you, much less become your lover himself."

"Maybe Gautier reported that Rhoan needed to be watched, and Davern either had no one else he trusted, or no one who was homosexual." I looked at my brother. "Did he ask you any questions while you were being tortured?"

"No."

"And why not? Because he didn't need to. He might have been suspicious about your identity before our fight, but when he took you to bed, he knew for sure." I grinned faintly. "A man's technique rarely varies, and is usually unique to himself."

"Thought there was something familiar in the way he went about business," Rhoan murmured. "But I was too busy concentrating on where all the weapons were and making sure none of them were missing."

"His bedroom is an arsenal?"

"Yeah. It also has guards, so if anyone but Starr goes near a weapon, they'd be dead in an instant."

"From what we've seen," Jack said. "Starr rarely leaves his foxhole. If that's the case, Starr cannot be Davern."

I frowned at him. "But Starr's foxhole is underground, and we have no idea where the main exit is. So, how can you say he never leaves?"

"Plus, Davern regularly disappeared on business trips." Rhoan's voice was still extremely scratchy yet sounding stronger now that the silver had gone from his body. "It would be interesting to correlate Davern's disappearances with Starr's appearances."

"Which we can do, but not right now. Riley, you need to get back."

Rhoan grabbed my arm. "No—"

I touched a finger lightly to my brother's lips. "Yes. He might suspect who I am, but you gave him nothing to confirm his suspicions. If I leave, he will know for sure, and then neither of us will be safe until he has been taken out. This could be our only chance to stop him and shut down the labs."

"But—"

"No buts." I hesitated, grinning wryly as I added, "I've had more than enough for one night."

His short laugh ended up a groan. "God, don't make me laugh. It hurts too much right now."

I squeezed his hand and looked at Jack. "The driver said they were taking Rhoan to the farming labs. I'm betting if you let this truck continue its journey, you might just discover the missing Libraska lab."

"It's certainly worth a try." He rose, restrained excitement evident in the way he moved. "Do you need help to get back in?"

I shook my head. "I'll shadow and run right past the gate guards."

"Use the out gate," Rhoan said. "No infrared scanners."

I nodded and bent to kiss him. "You get well while I go clean up this mess."

He touched a finger to my nose. "Just keep this out of trouble. I don't want to be climbing out of a sick bed to come to your rescue."

I grinned and looked at Jack. "Are you going to be monitoring the com-link?"

"Someone will be. If you need out, just holler."

I nodded and rose. The medics climbed into the truck as I climbed out, though there wasn't much they could do that Rhoan's own body couldn't now that the silver was out—except ease the pain, which is why I had Jack call them.

I grabbed a water bottle from one of the stretcher bearers and rinsed out my mouth. Jack climbed down from the truck and walked across to where I stood.

"What arc you up to?"

"Me?" I batted my eyes innocently.

He wasn't buying it. "Yeah, you. The werewolf who has a badly beaten brother lying in that truck. Give, girl."

"I don't plan to do anything until you give me the thumbs up that you've found the lab." Which wasn't exactly true, as I planned to try and rescue Nerida.

Not that I actually thought that would be achievable.

"And when and if you do get the thumbs-up?"

"Then I plan to kill the bastards who did that to my brother."

He grinned and patted my arm. "That's my girl."

I shook off his touch. "It's not for you or the Directorate. It's for Rhoan, and me."

"I don't care about the reasons, I just care about the kill. You're going to be a great guardian once you fully accept your fate."

"Don't hold your breath waiting for it, boss."

"Wouldn't matter if I did. I don't actually need to breathe."

Well, yeah. I guess it was a pretty stupid statement to make to a vampire. "I'll leave the link on."

"If you start getting static, turn it off. It probably means they're catching the signal."

"Will do."

I turned on my heel, wrapped the shadows around me, and ran back to Starr's property. The dinner bell was ringing loud and clear as I neared the house. I swore under my breath and headed for my room. The window was still open, so I climbed through, grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my body to hide the blood, grime, and scratches, then headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

A guard appeared minutes later. "Hey, you, can't you hear the dinner bell? Hurry up."

I hurried. At least there was one good thing about running around in skin—no struggle trying to pull clothes over a wet body. I finger combed my hair as the guard hustled me along.

I expected to be led to the holding pens behind the main arena for our wrestling match, but instead was taken into the arena room itself and led to a table.

Berna was already there. I plonked down beside her and crossed my arms.

"A successful affair?" she asked, as the guard walked to the back of the room.