The twisting path that possibility carved through my brain left my gray matter sliced too thin for this.
“Imagine my disappointment when I learned she was not your mother, but your abuser. Your tormenter. Your own personal boogeyman.” Pity darkened her eyes, and that a monster felt sorry for me made the past that much harder to stomach. “Once I determined her uselessness, I did us both a favor and tossed her in the dumpster out back. The heat would have killed her in another day or two, but it worked out in the end. The perimeter wards warned me you were here, and I took her place in her room. There was no time for anything else. Your dogs would have hunted me if I ran.”
The question drumming in my ears let me ignore the woman behind me. “Why keep them alive?”
“Wouldn’t you rather know how I know? About the scars? About the ants?”
A familiar shiver danced along my spine, a premonition I developed as a child that warned me when Mother was near.
“She told me,” the woman announced. “In great detail. Without much coercion.” She searched my face. “Do you want my honest opinion?”
“No.”
“She hates herself, and you’re a mirror image of her younger self, so she hates you too.” She tapped Boaz on the nose. “I bet she never raised a hand to him, did she? He was a boy, and he took after his father I’m guessing. She didn’t see enough of her in him to bother. Your little brother, though.” She wet her lips. “He’s a meld of your parents, isn’t he? Little of Dad, little of Mom. How long before he learns the sting of the brush? The sting of the ants? The sting of knowing his mother despises the parts of herself she sees in him?”
“She will never lay a hand on him,” I snarled. “Never.”
“How can you stop her when you’re here and he’s there?”
“Hadley.” Midas stood watch over Addie. “Don’t let her get in your head.”
“Yes, Hadley, don’t let me get in your head. It’s so dark in there I might not find my way out again.”
The barb struck true, and I flinched. “Who are you?”
“That’s a question with an answer you might not be ready to hear.”
“Are you wearing Liz,” I demanded, “or is this more glamour?”
“I’m not wearing anyone.” Her smile grew toothier. “Does that clear things up for you?”
Crimson magic sparked out of the corner of my eye, but Midas and Ford were both accounted for.
“Oh dear.” Liz, or whoever—whatever—she was stood. “Now you’ve done it.”
A vicious snarl rattled my bones as the gwyllgi who had shifted on my periphery prowled closer.
With heartbreaking clarity, the earlier pretzel of my thoughts unraveled as the truth revealed itself to us.
There were two of them.
A pair.
Ares and Liz.
Dead women walking.
“Ares.” I cut off the twinge of regret before it took root. “What are you doing?”
“Protecting her mate.” Liz waited for Ares to come to her side then petted her. “Good girl.”
“You can’t be serious,” I demanded of Ares, as if a firm scolding could fix this. “That’s not Liz.”
“That might not be Ares,” Ford reminded me, and Ares pinned her ears against her skull.
“This is not how I pictured tonight ending.” Liz scratched Ares’s head. “I banked on the abuse twisting you up, making you doubt yourself. All I needed was a second alone to disappear into the background.” She glared at Ford. “You should have kept your mouth shut.” She flicked her gaze over him. “You just won’t die, will you?”
“Momma expects grandkids.” He shrugged. “I try not to disappoint my momma.”
While Liz bumped her gums, Ares nudged her back, away from us and immediate danger. Uncovenlike behavior by any metric. They tended to attack, brutally, in whatever form guaranteed the most damage to their adversaries. They didn’t tuck tail and run, and I had only ever seen them protect one member above the others, but that had been during battle when they sought the element of surprise.
This wasn’t right. Ares was acting like a gwyllgi defending her mate, not a coven lackey, and that made no sense. None at all. There was no way she was that good of an actor, that she could have faked being Midas’s friend for so long without getting caught out.
“Ares,” I tried reasoning with her. “You don’t have to do this.”
The gwyllgi hung her head but kept backing away slowly, herding Liz behind her.
Ares was still in there. She was in there. Why wasn’t she fighting back?
“Ares,” Midas commanded, his eyes tight when he used his power as beta against her. “Stop.”
A hard shudder wracked her frame, but she slung her head and shook off his compulsion.
“She’s not pack,” he said, dumbfounded. “She couldn’t disobey me otherwise.”
Again, I questioned what we were seeing. And again, I couldn’t shake the sense Ares was present.
There was no other excuse for the deep sorrow in her eyes or the shame in her posture.
Pressing my shoulder against his in a show of support, I asked, “How does that happen?”
“She forsook her alpha,” Liz told me then winked at Midas. “She’s mine now, Beta.”
A soft whine escaped Ares, but she didn’t slow their retreat.
The transformation engulfed Midas, crested and splashed, washed away his humanity and left a beast in a lather standing before us. He lunged for Ares, who rose up to protect Liz, and they clashed with bone-crunching force.
“Bring her down,” I told Ambrose quietly. “Whatever it takes.”
Understanding I meant Liz, who was attempting to flee while Ares distracted us, he streaked across the craggy lot aiming straight for her. He punched through her, inflicting small hurts, but he was too full to slow her down.
Calling him back to me as I ran after her, I dipped my hands into him and retrieved my swords.
Then I prayed I didn’t trip, fall, and skewer myself. I was getting better, but I was no Jedi Master.
As I got within striking distance, an engine rumbled to life, and a truck
