Chapter 6

"Or are we just doing the staring thing until I try something stupid?"

Rafe doesn't answer right away. His jaw works like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say. Finally, he exhales through his nose and takes one step to the side. Not much. Just enough that I could maybe slip past him if I moved fast.

I don't move.

"Your brother's not wrong," Rafe says. His voice is rougher than it was upstairs. "I was sent after him. Eight years ago. I was supposed to make sure he didn't talk."

My stomach drops. Hearing it from Jonah's recording was one thing. Hearing Rafe admit it is different. It makes it real in a way that twists something cold and sick behind my ribs.

"So what happened?" I ask. "You screw up? Miss your shot?"

"I didn't take the shot."

I laugh, and it comes out harsh and ugly. "Right. You just let him run and hide for eight years and didn't tell anyone. Out of the goodness of your heart."

"Out of the badness of the deal," Rafe snaps. His claws retract a fraction, but his shoulders stay tight. "I was twenty-two. Fresh out of training. They told me Jonah Vale stole bureau property and sold it to a rogue pack. They said he was a traitor. I tracked him for three days, and when I cornered him, he didn't fight. He just asked me one question."

"What question?"

"He asked if I knew what they were using Vale blood for."

I swallow. My throat feels like I've been breathing dust. "And you didn't."

"No. I didn't." Rafe's eyes flick to the wall behind me, where Jonah carved 2847 days into the stone. "He told me to check the fourth-floor archive. The old contracts. He said if I still wanted to kill him after that, he wouldn't run."

I don't say anything. I'm waiting for the part where this turns into a lie, where Rafe twists it into something that makes him sound better than he is. But he just stands there, looking tired and pissed off in equal measure.

"I checked," Rafe says. "Took me two weeks to get clearance. Found the contract dated 1847. Your family's signature at the bottom, and a clause that said Vale blood would be held in trust for the city's protection. Except the protection part was a lie. The blood was being used to build a network. A leash. Every wolf in the city's got trace amounts of it in their system, passed down through bites and bonds. We can't leave. We can't shift past a certain threshold. And every few years, someone in your family disappears."

I grip the recorder harder. "Jonah didn't disappear. He hid."

"Because I let him," Rafe says. "I went back and told them he was dead. Burned body in a car wreck. They bought it because they wanted to buy it. One less mess to clean up."

"And now?" I ask. "You show up at my shop, bleeding all over my floor, dragging me into this. Why? Guilty conscience?"

Rafe's mouth twists into something that's not quite a smile. "No. I showed up because the deal's about to reset. Blood moon's in thirty days. They need a Vale to close the loop, and Jonah's gone underground so deep even I can't find him. That makes you the last option."

The room feels smaller all of a sudden. The walls are too close, and the air's too thick, and I can hear my pulse hammering in my ears.

"You're saying they're coming for me," I say.

"I'm saying they already are," Rafe says. "The hunters upstairs? They're not after me. They're making sure you don't run."

I want to call him a liar. I want to throw the recorder at his head and shove past him and get the hell out of this basement. But I can't, because everything he's saying lines up with what Jonah said on the tape. And because Rafe looks like he's about to crawl out of his own skin.

His breathing's gone shallow. His hands are shaking, just a little, and there's sweat beading at his hairline even though it's cold down here.

"You're hitting the fever," I say.

Rafe nods. His jaw's clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping under his skin. "Yeah."

"How long?"

"Couple minutes. Maybe less."

I should let him drop. I should walk past him while he's too weak to stop me and take my chances with the hunters upstairs. But I don't move, because there's a part of me that knows I won't make it ten feet without him. And because Jonah's voice is still rattling around in my head, and if Rafe knows where Jonah went, I need him alive.

"Sit down," I say.

Rafe doesn't argue. He sinks onto the cot, slow and careful like his bones hurt. His breathing's coming faster now, and his eyes are starting to lose focus.

I cross the room and crouch in front of him. My hands are steadier than I thought they'd be. "You pull anything," I say, "and I will break your nose."

"Noted," Rafe says. His voice is barely there.

I reach out and press my palm against his chest. His skin's burning through his shirt, and I can feel his heart pounding like it's trying to break out. The effect's not instant. It builds slow, like heat spreading through water. Rafe's breathing evens out, and the tension in his shoulders starts to unwind. His eyes clear, and he looks at me like he's seeing me for the first time.

Then something else happens.

The room shifts. Not physically. It's more like the air ripples, and suddenly I'm not looking at Rafe anymore. I'm looking at a cell. Concrete walls. A single fluorescent light. And Jonah, sitting on a metal bench with his hands cuffed in front of him.

He looks older. Thinner. There's a scar running down the side of his face that wasn't there before. But it's him. It's definitely him.

"Rafe," I say. My voice sounds far away. "What is this?"

"I don't know," Rafe says. He's seeing it too. I can tell by the way he's staring at the space in front of us, his eyes wide and locked on Jonah.

Jonah's not alone. There's someone standing in front of him, just outside the cell bars. A woman. Dark suit. Hair pulled back tight. She's holding a tablet, and she's talking, but I can't hear the words. Jonah's shaking his head. Slowly. Like he's refusing something.

The woman leans closer. She says something else, and this time Jonah looks up. His face is pale, and there's blood on his shirt. Fresh blood.

Then the woman turns around.

I stop breathing.

It's Celia Morn. Director of the city's anomaly bureau. The woman who signed off on every wolf registry in the district. The woman who gave the public speech about cooperation and safety after the last blood moon.

She's smiling.

The vision cuts off. I'm back in Jonah's hidden room, my hand still pressed against Rafe's chest. My heart's trying to punch through my ribs, and my mouth tastes like metal.

"That was real," I say. It's not a question.

Rafe nods. "Yeah. That was real."

"Celia Morn has my brother," I say.

Rafe doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. We both just saw the same thing.

I pull my hand back and stand up. My legs feel like water, but I stay upright. "You said you couldn't find him. But you know where he is now."

Rafe stands too. He's moving easier, the fever gone for now. "I know where he was," he says. "That cell could be anywhere in the bureau. They've got holding facilities in three buildings."

"Then we check all three," I say.

"We won't make it past the front desk," Rafe says. "Not without a bureau clearance. And not with hunters actively looking for you."

I pick up the recorder and shove it into my jacket pocket. "Jonah said the key's in the third-floor archive. Restricted access. Wolf-clearance only."

Rafe's eyes narrow. "You want to break into the bureau."

"I want to get my brother out," I say. "And if Celia Morn's the one holding him, then yeah. We're breaking into the bureau."

Rafe stares at me for a long moment. Then he shakes his head, but he's almost smiling. "You're out of your mind."

"Probably," I say. "You coming or not?"

Rafe glances at the door. The tunnel beyond it is dark and silent, but we both know the hunters are still up there, waiting. Then he looks back at me.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm coming."

We head for the tunnel. Behind us, the bulb in Jonah's room flickers once and