“But it’s not just my team that needs your help,” he continued, turning suddenly to pace in front of the door. “We all do. Everything has changed; we don’t have any time to waste.”

He ran his hands through his dark hair as he spoke. I considered bolting—he was clearly distracted—but something about his manner mesmerized me, enough so that I didn’t know if escape was what I really wanted anymore.

“You might be our only chance. I don’t think the Scion can do this alone. You might be the final part of the equation. The tipping point.”

“The tipping point of what?”

“This war. You can end it.”

War. The word set my blood boiling. I was glad for it; the heat coursing through my veins made me feel stronger. This war was the one I’d been raised to fight.

“We need you to join us, Calla.”

I could barely hear him. I was trapped in a red fog—thoughts of the violence that consumed so much of my life filled my being.

The Witches’ War.

I’d served the Keepers in their battles against the Searchers since I could cut flesh with my teeth. I’d hunted for them. I’d killed for them.

My eyes focused on Monroe. I’d killed his people. How could he possibly want me to join them?

As if sensing my wariness, he froze in place. He didn’t speak but clasped his hands behind his back, watching me, waiting for me to speak.

I swallowed, forcing steadiness into my voice. “You want me to fight for you.”

“Not just you,” he said. I could tell he was fighting to control his words as well. He seemed desperate to flood the air between us with his thoughts. “But you’re the key. You’re an alpha, a leader. That’s what we need. It’s what we’ve always needed.”

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes were so bright as he spoke I didn’t know whether to be afraid or fascinated. “The Guardians, Calla. Your pack. We need you to bring them over to us. To fight with us.”

It felt like the floor had dropped out beneath me and I was falling. I wanted to believe what he was saying, because wasn’t this the very thing I’d hoped for?

A way to free my pack.

Yes. Yes, it was. Even now my heart was racing with the thought of returning to Vail, of finding my packmates. Of getting back to Ren. I could take them all away from the Keepers. To something else. Something better.

But the Searchers were my enemies . . . I could only tread carefully if I made a pact with them. I decided to play up my reluctance.

“I don’t know if that’s possible. . . .”

“But it is!” Monroe lurched forward as if to grab my hands, a mad glint in his eyes.

I leapt back, shifting into wolf form, and snapped at his fingers.

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head.“There’s so much you don’t know.”

I shifted back. His face was etched with deep lines. Haunted, full of secrets.

“No sudden moves, Monroe.” I took slow steps toward him, extending my hand, warding off another approach. “I’m interested, but I’m not convinced that you know what you’re asking of me.”

“I do.” He looked away, almost flinching at his own words. “I’m asking you to risk everything.”

“And why would I do that?” I asked.

I already knew the answer. I’d risked everything to save Shay. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant I could get back to my packmates. If I could save them.

He stepped back and extended his arm, clearing my path to the open door.

“Freedom.”

TWO

THE DOOR LED INTO A WIDE, well-lit hall and I swallowed a gasp. The walls were hewn from gleaming marble, its surfaces reflecting a glimmering veil of sunlight that spilled through glass.

Where am I?

The startling beauty of my surroundings distracted me enough that I failed to notice that Monroe and I weren’t the only ones in the hall.

“Heads up.” A distinctly sullen voice made me jump.

I turned, barely maintaining my human form, bristling with anger at being caught off guard. I almost shifted again when I saw the speaker.

Ethan. I’d met him twice and both times we’d been fighting. First at the library and then at Rowan Estate. My lips curled back so I could flash my fangs. Looking at him, I clenched my fist in front of my chest. His crossbow bolts had almost killed me before Monroe knocked me out. Ethan stared back at me, nose still slightly crooked from when Shay had broken it. Instead of marring his hardened good looks, it had the effect of making him seem that much more dangerous. My muscles quaked as I watched him. The slightest twitch of his fingers in the direction of the dagger sheathed at his waist was all it took.

I shifted as I leapt, my cry of outrage turning into a howl, mind a frenzy when I barreled into him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Two kind words from Monroe and I’d walked right into an ambush.

Ethan’s fingers twisted in the fur at my chest, shoving me away so my fangs snapped just short of his throat. He spewed curses as he writhed beneath me. I wrenched free of his grasp, but before I could tear into his unprotected flesh, someone else slammed into my back.

Arms and legs wrapped around my torso, clinging tightly, refusing to let go. I snarled and bucked, twisting my head around as I tried to free myself of this new assailant. I couldn’t get a good look at the attacker nor could I manage to sink my teeth into the arm locked around my chest. A deep masculine whoop and the sound of laughter only fueled my rage. I crow-hopped and whirled in a circle, desperate to throw him off.