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The van hit the brakes so hard it jumped the curb.
Dex leaned across the passenger seat and yelled through the open window. “Quinn! Get in the damn van. Now.”
I was already moving when Ronan caught the back of my jacket.
“Not that way.”
I spun on him. “Are you kidding me? That is literally my ride.”
His face had gone gray under the blood smeared along his jaw. He looked like one hard shove away from folding in half, but his hand stayed locked around my coat.
“Three men on the roof,” he said.
Dex honked again. “Quinn, I don’t know who Dracula is, but the cops are coming.”
“Love you too,” I yelled.
A shape moved on the old laundromat roof across the street.
Then another.
I saw eyes first. Yellow. Low and bright under the broken neon sign.
My stomach dropped.
Ronan let go of my jacket and dragged me backward into the alley. “They’re not police.”
“No shit.” I stumbled over a trash bag. Something wet squished under my boot. “Can you walk faster, Blood Loss Barbie?”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
A gunshot cracked through the street.
The brick beside my head exploded into red dust.
Dex screamed something from the van, slammed it into reverse, and vanished around the corner with tires squealing.
My chest tightened so fast I almost blacked out.
Not because Dex left.
Because Ronan had moved with him.
The ring on my finger went cold. My lungs forgot what they were supposed to do.
I grabbed the wall.
Ronan saw it. His eyes narrowed. “Stay close.”
“Yeah, I got that part.” I sucked in a tiny, useless breath. “You know, most guys buy a girl dinner before they turn her into a portable asthma attack.”
Another shot hit the dumpster behind us.
Ronan shoved me down.
We hit the filthy pavement together. His body covered mine for half a second. He smelled like rain, blood, and that sharp pine scent that kept getting stronger whenever he was pissed.
Which was a problem, because right now he was very pissed.
And apparently very heavy.
“Get off,” I hissed.
“You’re welcome.”
“I wasn’t thanking you.”
“You were about to get shot.”
“I was about to get into my van.”
His mouth flattened. “Your friend was about to drive you into an ambush.”
“Dex would never—”
“Not knowingly.” Ronan pushed himself up, one hand clamped over the wound in his side. Blood slid between his fingers. “They followed his route. That means someone had eyes on him before he picked you up.”
I stared at him.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Then it buzzed again.
I yanked it out.
Six missed calls from Dex.
Three texts.
WHERE ARE YOU?
YOUR FACE IS ON EVERY SCREEN IN THE CITY.
QUINN, PICK UP. I THINK THEY TRACKED ME.
My throat went dry.
A video notification popped up before I could call him.
Vera Sane’s face filled my screen.
Perfect hair. Perfect white coat. Perfect sad little expression like she’d just heard someone kicked a puppy.
Behind her, a crowd of reporters shoved microphones toward a black iron gate. The Sane estate, probably. I’d only ever seen it from a distance. Big old money place up in Crescent Hills. The kind of house that had security cameras hidden in the flower beds.
“Ronan Kade is my fiancé,” Vera said into the cameras. “He is sick. He is vulnerable. And this woman, Quinn Harper, has stolen a dangerous family artifact and may be responsible for his disappearance.”
A picture of me flashed beside her.
Not a flattering one.
Me in a gas station hoodie, middle finger up at somebody outside a corner store.
Fantastic.
Vera went on. “If you see her, do not approach. Contact Sane Security or the police immediately.”
The comments flew so fast I could barely read them.
THAT’S THE GIRL FROM THE DOCKS.
SHE HAS A KNIFE.
MY COUSIN SAID SHE ATTACKED A HUNTER.
Ronan snatched the phone from my hand.
“Hey.”
He crushed it under his heel.
I looked at the cracked screen.
Then at him.
“You just broke my phone.”
“They can trace it.”
“That phone cost me three months of late fees and one extremely weird delivery to a man named Captain Greg.”
“It was already compromised.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
The way he said it made me stop.
Not because it was loud.
Because it was flat.
Like he was trying very hard not to say something else.
I stepped closer, even though every survival instinct I had was screaming at me to run. Which, thanks to the stupid blood ring, I couldn’t really do anyway.
“You knew she’d call you her fiancé.”
Ronan looked past me, down the alley.
That was answer enough.
“Oh my God.” I laughed once. It came out ugly. “You knew.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No. No, don’t do that.” I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Don’t give me that rich guy word. Complicated is when your landlord raises rent. Complicated is when your mother says she’s quitting pills and then sells your bike for cash. You have a fake fiancée putting my face on the news and sending wolf hit squads after me.”
“She is not my fiancée.”
“She called you her fiancé on live TV.”
“She calls a lot of things hers.”
“That is somehow worse.”
A growl rolled through the alley.
Not Ronan.
It came from the roof.
He moved in front of me without even looking back. “We need to leave.”
“Great plan. Where?”
“My car.”
“You have a car?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t we start with that?”
“Because it’s six blocks away.”
I stared at him. “You dragged me through two alleys, got me shot at, and now you’re telling me you parked six blocks away?”
“It was a secure location.”
“Nothing about your life is secure.”
His eyes flashed gold for half a second.
Not bright. Not all the way.
Still enough to make my claws ache under my nails.
I curled my hands into fists.
Ronan noticed.
His expression changed. Just a little. Guilt, maybe. Or fear.
I hated that I couldn’t tell anymore.
He lowered his voice. “Quinn. You need to listen to me.”
“I’ve listened to you. That’s how I got a murder ring and discount werewolf hands.”
“The ring is not—”
“Don’t say it isn’t a murder ring. It drinks your blood. I’m pretty sure that’s the definition.”
He looked like he wanted to argue.
Instead, he said, “Vera wants it. She needs it for the Moon Rite.”
“What the hell is a Moon Rite?”
“A ceremony.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“It decides who the packs recognize.”
I blinked. “Recognize for what?”
“For leadership.”
There it was.
Not all of it. But enough.
I looked him up and down. Expensive coat ruined with blood. Fancy watch. Deadly enemies. A woman on TV calling him hers. Hunters climbing rooftops to get to him.
“You’re not just some guy who got stabbed behind a bar.”
“No.”
“You’re one of them.”
“I was.”
“Was?”
He gave a humorless smile. “That’s a long story.”
A bullet punched through the dumpster beside us.
Ronan grabbed my wrist and ran.
This time I ran with him.
We cut through the back door of a closed pawn shop. The alarm started screaming the second Ronan kicked it in.
“Nice,” I said, breathless. “Super stealthy.”
“They already know where we are.”
We barreled through aisles of old TVs, cracked guitars, and cases full of watches nobody wanted. Ronan shoved open the front door, checked the street, then pulled me into the narrow gap between the pawn shop and a liquor store.
His grip was hot around my wrist.
Too hot.
“Your fever’s getting worse.”
“I don’t have a fever.”
“You’re sweating blood.”
“I’m not.”
He looked down at his hand.
Blood ran over his knuckles.
Okay. Maybe he was.
He leaned against the wall, jaw tight.
I should’ve felt satisfied.
This was the guy who lied to me. The guy whose blood had crawled under my skin and turned my life into a monster movie.
Instead, panic started chewing through me.
The ring burned.
“What happens if you pass out?” I asked.
Ronan’s gaze snapped to mine.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Nothing good.”
“Cool. Love that answer.”
He breathed through his teeth and pushed off the wall. “My car is two blocks east.”
“Can you make it?”
“Yes.”
He took one step.
Then his knees buckled.
I caught him because apparently I’d lost every decent survival skill I ever had.
He was heavy against me. His arm came around my shoulders. His mouth brushed my hair when he bent over, breathing hard.
For one dumb second, my body noticed how close he was.
Then I remembered he had a public fiancée and a secret throne and probably seventeen more lies tucked under that stupid coat.
“Don’t die on me,” I muttered.
His voice was rough near my ear. “You say the sweetest things.”
“I mean it selfishly. If you die, I stop breathing.”
“That’s fair.”
A car rolled slowly past the mouth of the alley.
Black SUV. Tinted windows.
Then a second one.
Ronan went still.
I felt it before I saw it. The tight pull through the bond. His body bracing.
“Down,” he whispered.
We ducked behind a stack of beer crates.
The SUV stopped.
A man got out wearing a dark suit and no coat, like he didn’t feel the cold. He sniffed the air.
Actually sniffed it.
My skin crawled.
“Blood,” he said.
Another man stepped out behind him. “Kade?”
The first guy smiled.
His teeth were too sharp.
“Not just Kade.” He turned his head toward our hiding place. “The girl too.”
Ronan’s hand slid over mine.
Not comforting.
A warning.
I looked at him. “What do we do?”
His eyes stayed on the men outside. “We make a deal.”
“With them?”
“No.”
He looked at me then.
Really looked.
“Vera can call you a thief all night. She can send every hunter in this city after you. But she can’t touch you at the Moon Rite if you’re under my protection.”
I stared at him.
“And why would she let me walk into her creepy wolf ceremony?”
“Because she won’t have a choice.”
“Ronan.”
He swallowed. Blood had soaked through the side of his shirt now.
“Be my fiancée.”
For a second, I honestly thought I’d heard him wrong.
Then the guy outside sniffed again and started walking into the alley.
I grabbed Ronan by the front of his coat. “You want me to fake-engage you?”
“I want you alive.”
“You have a weird way of showing it.”
“If you wear my name in front of the packs, Vera has to treat you as mine.”
“Mine?”
His jaw flexed. “Protected. Not owned.”
“Wow. Great save.”
“I can get your mother’s debt erased.”
Everything in me stopped.
The alley noise went thin and far away.
Even the men coming toward us.
Ronan watched my face carefully.
“You know about that?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I know who holds it.”
My fingers dug into his coat. “You said you could get it erased.”
“I can.”
“You better not be lying to me.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t even know how much it is.”
“I know exactly how much it is.”
That hit harder than it should have.
Because nobody knew the number.
Not Dex. Not my old landlord. Not even the debt collector who kept changing his name every time he called.
I had never told Ronan.
The suited hunter stepped around the beer crates.
“There you are,” he said.
Ronan shoved me behind him.
The hunter lifted his gun.
I saw the flash.
Ronan moved first.
The bullet slammed into his side.
His whole body jerked.
A sound tore out of him. Low. Animal. Nothing human about it.
Then pain ripped across my ribs.
I screamed.
I looked down.
My shirt was splitting open over my left side.
A dark wet line opened across my skin.
Blood soaked through the fabric.
Not from a bullet.
From him.
The hunter stared at me.
Ronan dropped to one knee, one hand pressed to his wound.
“No,” he snarled. “Don’t look at her.”
The hunter’s smile vanished.
“What did you bind her with?”
Ronan’s eyes went fully gold.
The ring on my finger burned so hot I thought it might melt into bone.
I pressed both hands over my bleeding side, shaking so hard my teeth clicked.
This was insane.
This was all insane.
But Dex was running from people because of me. My face was on every screen. My mother’s debt was still hanging over my head like a loaded gun. And this asshole beside me was either the biggest mistake of my life or the only person who could get me out alive.
Maybe both.
The hunter raised his gun again.
Ronan tried to stand.
He couldn’t.
I grabbed his collar and dragged his face toward mine.
“You erase the debt,” I said.
His gold eyes locked on mine.
“You keep Dex out of this.”
“Yes.”
“You tell me every lie you’ve told me.”
His mouth tightened.
“Every one,” I snapped.
“I will.”
“And if you ever call me yours like I’m property, I’ll claw your pretty face off.”
For the first time all night, something almost like a smile touched his mouth.
“Fair.”
The hunter took one more step.
Ronan’s hand found mine, bloody and shaking.
“Quinn,” he said.
I hated him.
I hated the ring.
I hated that my answer was already there, waiting.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be your fiancée.”
Ronan went still.
Then his gaze lifted past my face.
His expression changed.
Not relief.
Fear.
“Quinn,” he said again, quieter this time. “Your eyes.”
The hunter stopped breathing.
Gold light spilled across the black screen of the broken phone at my feet.
And in the reflection, my eyes were burning back at me.