“Oh, no worries, he’s fine. Whenever he cries, I just give him some food and he’s good to go.” She chuckled. “No wonder he’s so chubby.”
“He’s not chubby,” Duncan said indignantly. “He’s—”
“Husky,” Julianna and Isabelle quipped at the same, then they both burst out into giggles. “Anyway,” Isabelle continued. “He and Evan are with Sofia now since I wanted to come see you.” She suddenly realized they weren’t exactly alone, and she felt a little foolish for her earlier outburst. “Oh hey, Sabrina! Cross!” Cross Jonasson was a member of the New York clan and a powerful hybrid—half Lycan wolf, half warlock—who had recently been reunited with his mate after years of separation. She had met Sabrina when Cross asked the clan to keep her safe. According to what Sofia had told her, it turned out Sabrina had one of the artifacts the mages were looking for, which was why they had to hide her. “Are you guys okay? Were you injured too?”
“No, we’re good,” Sabrina said. “But my dad was here, and we’re taking him home.”
“Oh?” Isabelle walked toward them, but as she got closer, her gaze dropped to the figure on the bed in front of the couple. “Is that—”
No.
It couldn’t be.
Her wolf scrambled to attention, ears lifting up.
Oh God. It wasn’t possible!
But it was Ransom on the bed. Not only did she recognize his face, but also the exposed bit of the wolf tattoo on his hip. His chest was covered in bandages, and his skin had a pale gray pallor. Her wolf yowled, seeing him in such a state.
“Isabelle?” Sabrina cocked her head to the side. “Are you all right?”
I have to get out of here! “I’m … fine!” she said nervously, her hands waving in the air. “I just remembered something I have to—”
“No …” A low moan escaped from Ransom’s lips, and the familiar timbre of his voice made her heart palpitate.
“I should go see to Evan.” Every drop of blood drained from her face. Before anyone could say anything, she dashed toward the exit.
Her heartbeat didn’t slow down even as she left the building; in fact, it only went faster and thumped harder against her ribcage. How was he in New York? What was he doing in the medical wing inside The Enclave of all places?
It didn’t matter. No, his presence didn’t matter at all. The only thing that did was Evan. She had to keep him safe and away from Ransom.
All this time, she had kept the secret of Evan’s father safe, and it would stay that way. If anyone found out … or if Ransom himself did, who knows what would happen?
She wouldn’t think of that possibility. Couldn’t think of it. Because there was no way she was going to let that happen.
Chapter Four
That voice.
That scent … honey and cardamom …
It called to Ransom and his wolf. Pulled them out of the darkness.
As he struggled for consciousness, he let out a groan. His throat felt parched, and there was a searing pain coming from his left shoulder.
But he swam on. Out of the darkness. It felt like he’d been treading for hours. Days maybe. He didn’t know why; he just knew he had to pull himself out of this.
“Argh!” He reached out and sat up. Vision blurred. Ringing in his ears. Scratchy fabric around his chest. Shaking his head, he blinked several times and rubbed his eyes.
“Easy there. Don’t try to move too much.”
His wolf sensed the presence of another Lycan. Did he know that voice? Or that accent? Irish? Definitely not American. He attempted to open his mouth, but only noises came out and his throat burned. Sniffing the air, he couldn’t smell it any more. Couldn’t smell her.
“I—” His vision began to focus. The air was antiseptic, like in a hospital. Wiggling his legs, he realized he was on a bed, so he swung his legs over the side.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Take it easy, there. D’you want me to call the doctor?”
The haziness was starting to fade away. He’d heard that voice. At the briefings. It all became clear now. He was in New York, had come here to help fight the mages. They had a big team, but he’d heard the man with the accent talking a couple of times.
Lifting his head up, Ransom found himself staring into bright green eyes. “No, I’m fine,” he rasped. “Just … thirsty. And hungry.”
“Do you want one of my cheeseburgers?” someone offered cheerfully. “I can spare three … maybe two.”
Turning to the source of the voice, his chest tightened when his gaze crashed with mismatched green and blue eyes. For a moment, he wanted to leap out of the bed and go to her. But his wolf knew what his eyes did not—this was someone else. The eyes and dark hair were the same, but it wasn’t her. The woman who haunted his dreams for the last two years. “I … thank you.” He took the glass of water next to his bed and took a long gulp, then looked to the man with the bright green eyes. “We won, right?”
“Aye,” he nodded. “Thanks to you, my friend. By the way, we didn’t have time to get acquainted yesterday. I’m Duncan MacDougal.”
He took the offered hand. “Ransom.”
“And this,” he jerked a thumb behind him, to the woman in the other hospital bed, “is my wife, Julianna.”
“Hey!” she greeted with a wave. “Nice to see you up.”
“Uh, yeah.” He turned away, unable to look at those eyes. He knew who she was, of course. After what happened two years ago, he’d looked up Grant Anderson and his family. Though there was very little public information about them, he recognized the eyes that all his children inherited from their mother. If he’d only done his due diligence earlier, he would have recognized it. And maybe he would have stopped this whole thing.
He scrubbed a hand down his
