"I can't."

"You should."

Pouting, I sounded like a spoiled child. "I just can't."

He dropped his fork on his plate, making a ringing noise. The silence after was rigid with tension. After a long moment he said, "I wish I could fix everything. I wish I could make it all go away. But I can't. So I thought, I'll make dinner. Maybe that'll help. But I guess not."

He wore a white T-shirt, jeans. His light brown hair was a bit too long, rumpled from him running his hands through it. His face was lined, tired. Full of character. He looked like a freaking rock star. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I wanted to cling to him like a leech.

"Thank you," I said, on impulse. "Thanks for standing by me."

The smile grew wider, and he bowed his head. "Well, you know. We're—"

I held up a hand to stop him. "Don't…say it. Just don't."

"I don't know what else to say." Roughly, he stood from the table. Grabbed the bowl of pasta and shoved it into the fridge. The whole appliance rattled. I was relieved, though; for a moment I thought he was going to throw it.

"You don't have to say anything."

But he kept going, coming out to the living room. "Maybe you're right, maybe you've been right all along, that if we weren't both werewolves we wouldn't be together. That we'd have no reason to be together."

"I never—"

He waved me off with a frustrated brush of his arm. "No, I know you've never said it. But you've been thinking it right from the start. And I wanted you to be wrong. I wanted to prove you wrong. But hey—you're never wrong."

"Ben!"

But he was already marching back to the bedroom, where he slammed the door behind him. I curled up on the sofa and covered my face with my hands. What happened if I won this war, yet lost everything I was trying to save?

When my cell phone, sitting on the coffee table, rang, my brain rattled. All my nerves twitched. It was like I forgot what to do with it, then I rushed to answer.

"Good morning," said Rick.

And so it starts. "Hi."

"What's been happening? Anything from Carl?"

"He went after KNOB," I said.

"And?"

This was actually almost working. I ought to be pleased. "Hardin has four of his wolves in custody. Carl got away. Hardin has people looking but they haven't found him." I'm not sure I wanted them to. I wasn't sure they could handle a cornered wolf.

"And you're all right? Your people are all right?"

I hesitated, then decided there'd be time for the long version later. "I'm fine. We're all fine. Anything happening on your end?"

"Yes. Charlie and Violet saw Arturo leave Obsidian. I want to move in while he's gone," he said, and his voice was too calm. Vampiric, I realized. The city could be crumbling around him and his tone wouldn't change.

This felt like a trap. I could see it. We were supposed to draw Arturo out, not race into the heart of his territory. "You can't take his stronghold. He'll have people protecting it—"

"It's his stronghold, which means he'll have to come back. I'll wait for him, then take him."

"But Rick, where is he? Where'd he go?"

"I was hoping one of your people had spotted him."

"I haven't heard anything." I gripped the phone and gritted my teeth. My spike in anxiety seemed to be making up for his calm. "This could be a trap. He leaves, makes it real obvious so you know about it, and as soon as you show up he busts your ass."

"That's why I'd like you and Ben to come help me. And any of the other werewolves you can call on."

My first impulse was to yell at him. Did he think we were his lackeys? Did he expect to be able to call on us the way Arturo called on Carl? But that had been the arrangement—an alliance to help each other. My getting cold feet didn't change that.

"What about Carl and Meg? Where are they?" I said.

"Again, I was hoping you'd have heard something."

"Geez, Rick, what do you expect me to be able to do? I can't battle a lair full of vampires. I can't ask anyone else to do that."

Ben had emerged and was leaning on the wall by the sofa, watching me, brow raised in a question. I found I couldn't look at him. But I could feel him, smell his presence washing over me.

The flavor of Rick's calm changed, taking on an edge—tension, held tightly in check. "You can't quit now, Kitty. You're way beyond being able to back out of this. I'm moving on Obsidian, and you'll help me because you can't let Arturo win this."

He was right. I'd set this series of events in motion. Backing out now would mean losing. This wasn't a game where I could pick up my pieces and go home. But I still didn't like it. "Have you given any more thought about who your spy is?"

"I'm not convinced there is one. I think Arturo had one of us followed and got lucky with the warehouse. Listen to me. We trap Arturo—I only need to get him alone for a few minutes, and I need you to watch my back. Dack, Violet, and Charlie are already here. When Arturo's gone, he won't be able to help Carl and Meg. Then we can take them out."

"Or we can take them out first—they're scared, we riled them up."

"You've seen them, then? You've confronted them?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

"And they're still alive?"

"The cops were there, there were too many people, I couldn't just—"

"But you see, Kitty: I can. You've taken us this far. Let me carry us the rest of the way."

I covered the phone and stared at the ceiling. Point of no return. I'd sped by it without even noticing.

Ben went to the door and picked up my backpack. He stayed there, waiting. He had a trunk full of gear that said we could do this. Damn Cormac and his armory.

I turned back to the phone. "When should we be there?"

"Now."

I hissed out a breath. "Okay. Fine. We're on the way. I'm going to make some calls. You'd better keep your phone handy in case I find out this is all some horrible trick."

"Will do. Park a block south of the building and I'll meet you."

I shoved the phone in my pocket. When I reached the door, Ben handed me my bag.

"We're going to Obsidian?" he said.

"Yeah."

"Then let's go." He was outside before I could say anything. Like I'm sorry.

In five minutes, we were on the road. Ben drove, his attention focused. Not looking at me, not saying a word. I wanted to cry. But I had those calls to make.

"Shaun, it's Kitty."

"What's happening?" he said, his voice urgent. We'd all been waiting by our phones.

"Rick's moving, but I need some eyes. Any word where Carl and Meg are?"

"Someone's watching the house. I'll find out."

"And if anybody spots Arturo, I want to know about it."

"Got it. I'll call back in a minute."

He was straightforward. Reliable. A good lieutenant. I'd been lucky, finding him when I did. Or maybe my instincts were better than I thought they were. Some of my instincts, anyway.

I was torn between wanting to make more calls, and wanting to leave the line open for Shaun and Rick. I risked one. Cheryl answered the phone.

"Hi, Cheryl?"

"Kitty, oh my God, are you okay? Is everything okay?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." I couldn't tell anything by her voice. She still had the hysterical edge going.

"Everything's fine here. Dad left the hospital after dinner. Mom was asleep. They've still got her doped up pretty good. But everyone's fine. We haven't seen anything."

Good. "That's what I wanted to hear. I have to get off the line, but I'll call again. Maybe I'll wait until morning if everything's okay."

"Be careful."

"Thanks."

I clicked the line off and waited for Shaun to call back.

Ben kept looking in the rearview mirror, repeatedly, more than the average driving maneuver warranted.

"What is it?"

"I think we're being followed."

Oh, that was almost funny. I twisted around to look out the back window. "Are you serious?"