Frowning, Vic picked it up, disturbed by the rattling sounds coming from inside it. The high-end Nikon had been seriously damaged. The lens appeared torn out, the body of the camera battered. Then he noticed the blood covering the back of it.

Vic lifted his head and saw Shen standing in the doorway, his friend staring at him silently, his phone still in the hand hanging limply at his side.

“Where is she, Shen?” Vic asked. “Where’s Livy?”

CHAPTER 30

Shen had insisted on driving, which was probably a good idea. Vic couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t focus. He could barely breathe.

They arrived at a house on Long Island in the middle of what Vic knew was Malone family territory. The Malone tigers were descended from Irish Travellers and would take over entire streets so that strangers couldn’t wander in and get into their business.

Shen parked the truck next to a silver BMW that Vic recognized. It belonged to Livy’s uncle Balt. It seemed her family had been informed about what had happened before Vic. Something he was not happy about but not really interested in at the moment.

Vic stepped out of the truck, and he heard a screen door open. He scanned the street and saw Cella Malone standing on the porch. She waved and Vic walked toward her, Shen following behind.

Cella let him into the house, and without a word, led him through the home, to the kitchen, and down into a finished basement.

As he made it down the stairs, Vic stopped. Livy’s family filled the room. The older aunts and uncles sitting on couches and chairs, the younger nieces, nephews, and cousins on the floor.

Vic looked at Cella and she moved forward, stepping around the badgers until she reached a room. She opened the door and Vic walked in.

A black woman, whom Vic scented as a mountain lion, leaned over an unconscious Livy, pulling bullets out of the honey badger with surgical instruments. She didn’t wear a mask, but she’d managed to get on latex gloves. Still, it was obvious to Vic she’d gotten right to work as soon as Livy hit the table because the sleeves of her bright white cashmere sweater were haphazardly rolled up and the front covered in blood splatters.

The woman glanced up, and Vic recognized her from the Sports Center. He’d occasionally seen her hanging around Cella Malone’s office, but he didn’t know her personally.

“I’m almost done,” the woman said. “I’ll be out in a little bit.”

Cella motioned Vic out, and he stepped back into the other room. She closed the door and stood in front of it.

Vic stood there for a bit, but he couldn’t take it. He walked up the stairs and out of the house. He rested his arms against the fence that circled the property and took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working.

“Vic?”

He looked down to see Blayne and Gwen staring up at him.

Gwenshook her head. “He’s about to have a hybrid break.”

“We have to calm him down,” Blayne said.

“No time for that,” a voice barked. Big hands grabbed Vic from behind and pushed him out of the gate and into the street. Vic looked back to see Novikov holding him.

“Can’t . . . can’t breathe . . .” Vic panted out.

“Breathing’s not your problem.” Novikov looked around and finally pointed at an old but well-maintained bright red ’78 Camaro. “That one.”

“What . . . what?”

Novikov took Vic’s hands and placed them on the car. “Do it, Barinov. It’s the only thing that’ll stop you from killing everyone in a five-mile radius. Just do it.”

Vic didn’t know what Novikov was talking about. He didn’t understand anything right now. He just knew he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything because something inside him was breaking loose and . . . and . . . and . . .

Blayne bit her lip and winced as Vic Barinov picked up that Camaro and sent it flipping and rolling down the street.

“Hey!” Dee-Ann said, running out of the house. “That’s my car!”

Blayne caught Dee-Ann before she could run into the street, and threw them both to the ground seconds before Vic’s roar of rage and emotional pain was unleashed. House and car windows exploded up and down the street as car alarms blared.

After Vic had roared himself out, Bo placed his hand on Vic’s shoulder and steered him toward the house. “I’ll take him back inside.”

Dee-Ann finally lifted her head. “What the holy fuck was that?”

Gwen, who’d dived to the ground on the other side of Blayne, lifted her head and said, “It’s called a hybrid break. They’re rare, but they happen.”

“And what about my car?”

“If it hadn’t been the car,” Gwen explained, “it would have been everyone else.”

Blayne offered, with a smile, “Think of it as a sacrifice for the good of all!”

“Shut up, poodle!”

“Or I can shut up.”

Coop stretched out on the couch and turned up the sound on the living room stereo. The strains of Vivaldi filled the entire space around him, and he relaxed into that. But before he could really lose himself in the work of a master, he heard the front door open and suddenly there were wolves standing around the couch, staring down at him.

Muting the sound, Coop sat up. “Hi, Ric.”

Ulrich Van Holtz forced a smile at Coop, gave a small nod. “Hi, Cooper. Are Cherise and Kyle around?”

“Cherise is practicing in the basement, and Kyle is sketching in the kitchen. Why?”