“Pamela. You aren’t going to kill anyone. That is a last resort, do you understand?”

She frowned at him. “I can handle it.”

There was no way he was going to beat around the bush. “No, you can’t.” Her jaw dropped open and he knew he’d offended her. “You are too young.”

“I’ve killed before.”

“Zombies don’t count. Killing a person for no reason other than you need what they have, isn’t acceptable. Ever.” He stood and walked to her, and put both hands on her shoulders. “Ever. You kill to protect those you love, and those who cannot protect themselves.”

“Yet, that is what we’re going to do.” Defiance radiated through her and into him, and when she would pull away, he tightened his grip.

“No. That’s what I’m going to do. This will be on my shoulders, not yours. Whatever death comes, I will deal out. Understood?”

She again tried to pull away but he held her tight. Sure, she could have used her magic, forcing him to let go. But this wasn’t about magic. This was about who was in charge.

Slowly, with great reluctance, she nodded. “Fine.”

“Good.” He pulled her in tight for a quick hug, surprising them both. Despite her abilities, she was still a child. Her arms circled him for a brief second before she stepped back.

“So do you have a plan, then?”

“Your plan is good, Pamela.” He watched with amusement as his praise made her eyes light up. “I think it would be smart to hit the FBI first. I don’t think they’ll be expecting it.”

They headed to the kitchen where Milly was nursing a hot drink. Her eyes flicked up to him then back to her cup. “Would you rather I stay here?”

Her question surprised the shit out of him. “You’re offering to stay behind?”

“I don’t want to get strangled again for trying to give someone comfort.” Her words were sharp, but they didn’t work, not on him.

“You’re lucky I didn’t snap your neck. See how far we’ve come?” He strode past her and aimed toward to cellar. The last stash of Rylee’s weapons was there and he needed something from it if they were going to do this.

In the cellar, the light bulb flickered above his head, swaying left and right.

Only a few weapons left, but he knew which one he wanted. Rylee’s back up crossbow was smaller than her main one, and wouldn’t take as much strength to pull back the dr {l b waaw.

He grabbed it along with a handful of bolts and then climbed back up the stairs. Once more in the kitchen, he put the crossbow and bolts on the table in front of Milly.

“If you’re coming with us, you’d better be useful.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Just like throwing a spell.”

With a snort, he walked away. “How the hell would I know? Just make sure you don’t shoot Pamela.”

The FBI offices were dark. Weird for this time of day, and it made the back of his neck crawl. Or maybe that was the fact Milly crouched behind him with a loaded crossbow.

Yeah, that seemed a likely culprit.

“Pamela, can you blow the transformer?”

She nodded and lifted her hand, a delicate tendril of magic curling out and around the box at the top of the power pole. A muted pop, a flash of light and the rest of the buildings on the street went dark.

In the light of day, it was not easy to sneak in. So they went in bold as could be. He took the lead, the guns he’d snatched from the warehouse snug in their holsters, a comfort he’d missed.

Milly held the crossbow easily. Apparently, Giselle and Rylee had given the witch rudimentary lessons in weapons.

Pamela was only a half step behind them both. Though she’d argued the whole way over, even Milly agreed. The kid went in behind them. End of story.

With the power gone, the front door had locked. Now Liam did motion for Pamela.

“Keep it soft, Pam.”

She put a hand to the door and the lock let out a groan, the door swinging inward. Damn, her lessons with Milly were paying off in dividends. The entrance was dark and they slipped in, closing the door behind them.

He held up his hand, fingers spread, voice pitched low. “Five minutes. You two take the front desk; I’ll take Ingers’s office. Ears and eyes peeled.”

The two witches nodded and headed around the side of the front desk. Liam jogged through the building to the back where Ingers’s office was. Her door was ajar and the slightest flicker of movement froze his feet. He dropped to a crouch and inched forward, hands curling around the butts of his two guns.

The figure seemed to be searching through Ingers’s office, flipping papers and pushing things around. Liam lifted his nose and took in a deep breath.

Fucking Trolls, they were like rats; they seemed to be everywhere. Staying in the crouch, he slid forward and pushed the door open a fraction more.

In the dim light, his eyes picked up details he wasn’t sure he wanted to. The Troll was hurt, and it was the first female Troll he’d seen. She was crying softly, her hands searching through the paper on Ingers’s desk. “You bitch, you fucking bitch. I’ll kill you.”

She wasn’t as heavily built as the male trolls, her body more human in proportions, her skin tone softer and … delicate even. It was hard to put her in the same category as the males he’d seen. He frowned and knew he had to do something; he couldn’t crouch there forever.

Standing, he held up his hands. “I’d like to kill her myself, if I could find her.”

The Troll scrambled backward, luminous grey eyes widening, her hands fisting up. “Get away, get away!”

He knew panic when he saw it. “You want to kill Ingers?”

She trembled, but did {ble align="jn’t back down. “Is that the baby killer’s name?”

He let out a slow breath as understanding dawned. “She’s been testing her weapons on your children?”

A sob caught in her throat as she bobbed her head. “Half-breeds are not worth any less. Yet, our families turned us over to her.” Her eyes lifted to his and he let out another slow breath. There, under the scent of Troll, was the other half of her.

Human.

Shit, this was unexpected. He couldn’t help but pity her and her plight. He moved deeper into the office. No matter how bad he felt for this … woman, he had to find out the meeting time. And where Ingers might be hiding.