“Hi, Abby, and thank you for coming today,” Faythe said as I pushed my chair forward. But the encouraging smile she’d had for Robyn was gone. Faythe’s obvious anxiety popped my bubble of optimism like a balloon under too much pressure, and all at once my worst-case-scenario fears felt more like an inevitability.

For the past week and a half, I’d lain awake in my childhood bed at night, thinking about Jace. Missing his grin, and his laugh, and that sound he made deep in his throat when he was really turned on. Remembering what it felt like to be touched by him and know that the same hands capable of ripping apart every threat he’d ever faced could also bring comfort, and support, and the most blisteringly intimate pleasure I’d ever felt in my life.

My dad had spent those same nights on the phone, having a series of arguments that were evidently well above my need-to-know level. I couldn’t identify any of the voices on the other end of the line, and I only caught small bits of what was said, but the gist was clear—everyone was pissed at everyone else.

The thick tension during my hearing supported that conclusion and made me wonder what was going on behind the scenes with the council. Was my trial actually the backdrop for some larger political clash?

If so, was this about the Lion’s Den resolution, or about my broken engagement?

Either way, did I really even have a shot?

I twisted in my chair to face Jace, and he gave me a smile, his blue eyes bright with the spark that blazed between us. But his jaw was tight and his arms were tense. He might not have been on the panel, but he knew what was going on behind all the cordial smiles and formal behavior. And he did not look happy.

My father cleared his throat, startling me out of my thoughts. “Abby, why didn’t you tell us that your roommate had been infected?”

I took a deep breath, then forged ahead. “Because she got sick really fast, and by the time I realized she had scratch-fever, I thought she was dying.” And I was extra glad they’d kicked Robyn out of the room, because she didn’t know that part. “I mean, no other woman’s ever survived infection that I knew of.”

“And after you realized she would live?” Paul Blackwell demanded.

“I didn’t tell anyone then because of this.” I held both arms out to take in the room full of Alphas—an absolute authority unlike anything that had existed in Robyn’s life thus far. “She was scared, and sick, and traumatized. She was having nightmares and flashbacks.”

Most of the faces staring back at me seemed completely unmoved.

I exhaled in frustration, then leaned forward with my arms folded on the table. I tried to meet each of their gazes. I wanted them to understand. “Those men killed her friends right in front of her. They hit her and put a knife to her throat. They dragged her away from everything and everyone she’d ever known and locked her in a basement, where her life was changed forever.”

Faythe’s eyes widened. She knew what that was like. She remembered. But the rest of them...

“You guys have all the power.” I glanced at each of the other Alphas in turn. “All the control. You’ve never been terrified or helpless. You’ve never sat in a dark room waiting, listening, knowing that the next time the door opens, someone’s going to come in and hurt you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You don’t understand how sometimes, even when it’s over, you’re still hurt, and scared, and everyone wants you to tell them that you’re fine, or that you’re not fine, but really you just want to be left alone.”

Faythe nodded, and her eyes looked extra shiny. My father’s jaw was clenched with the reminder of what I’d been through and why I might over-empathize with Robyn’s trauma. Several of the other Alphas looked uncomfortable.

“You wanted my frame of mind? There you go. I knew that Robyn just wanted to be left alone, and that you guys would never let that happen. Which was a shame, because Robyn wasn’t just healing from a violent crime. She was dealing with bloodlust, and overwhelming new instincts, and radically enhanced senses. Less than a week later, she was back in class, trying to keep up with school on top of everything else.

“Robyn’s strong and smart, but she grew up as a twenty-first-century human woman with no concept of the kind of authority an Alpha wields. Much less an entire council full of them. The last thing she needed was ten strangers telling her she’d have to give up the career she’s been working toward since she was sixteen so she can pick a husband and raise a litter of shifter babies. Not to mention the genetic testing and clinical observation. Being kidnapped and infected was unfair enough. I couldn’t break the rest of it to her without giving her time to heal. And I wouldn’t have had any time to give her, if anyone else knew about her. So I tried to protect her.”

Faythe smiled, and for several seconds, no one else seemed to know what to say. I turned to look at Jace, and he gave me the smallest, most Alpha-appropriate nod of approval, but as soon as I turned back to the council, I knew I’d messed up.

Looking at Jace had reminded them of that other thing I’d done wrong. With him.

“And when Robyn started killing people?” Milo Mitchell, Alpha of the Northwest Territory demanded. He’d been one of Jace’s stepfather’s allies, and our new relationship gave him one more reason to hate Jace. “Why didn’t you tell someone about her then?”

“Because I didn’t know what she was doing, at first. The guy in the woods was self-defense. I didn’t know she’d kept killing until she called me from Hargrove’s house, but she didn’t remember any of what she’d done, and we were in the last week of the semester by then, so I decided to talk my dad into letting me stay on campus during the break. I was going to use that time to tell her everything I hadn’t had a chance to tell her before.” I shrugged. “But then Jace came to pick me up early, and I realized that Robyn could be the rogue stray he was looking for.”

“That’s why you forced him to hire you?” Blackwell demanded. “To cover up your roommate’s crimes? And your own?”

“Yes, but that was my fault, not his,” I insisted.

Ed Taylor glanced over my shoulder at Jace, and my pulse picked up speed. “You would never have been able to manipulate your way onto his staff if he hadn’t offered you the job in the first place,” Taylor pointed out. “Employment as an enforcer is not candy to be handed out to children in cute costumes.”