There’s a but coming. I can feel it.

Memnon watches the alpha, looking amused, like he knows he’s the villain and is remorseless about it.

“—but you framed your mate for murder, and you are responsible for moving the bodies of murdered supernaturals.” The alpha’s words grow hoarse and gravelly as his composure slips.

Memnon nods. “Yes,” he agrees. “I did, and I am.”

I see Irene’s hand fist, and next to me, Kane radiates tension. Only Apani, the pack elder, remains placid.

“We want you to explain yourself,” Vincent says.

Memnon leans back in his seat. “Perhaps I will after you explain why you left my mate to fight off half a dozen attackers on her own right after she met with you.”

I’m caught between annoyance and a strange sort of pride that Memnon is so adamant about holding these shifters accountable for not coming to my aid. Vincent rolls his shoulders as Irene and Kane begin to growl. “We are forbidden from entering coven lands⁠—”

“And would you have entered them, if it were a shifter being attacked?” Memnon presses.

Vincent’s expression grows grim.

Yes. We all know his answer is yes. I wasn’t worth breaking whatever delicate truce witches and lycans have made for themselves, but a shifter would be worth it.

Vincent turns his attention to me. “Truly, Selene, on behalf of the entire pack, we are sorry. We were not trying to abandon you; we want to hunt down these monsters as much as you do. I made the decision to not cross boundary lines in the hopes that you would bring your familiar back to our land, where we could properly protect you both, just like you did with Cara.”

The room falls quiet, and I think I’m supposed to do something, so I nod.

After a long moment, Vincent returns his attention to Memnon. “Now, I don’t want to keep either of you here tonight. I’m sure you both have plans.

“Memnon,” he says, “would you be willing to answer a few questions we have about our—” he hesitates, “murdered pack mate?”

Memnon’s gaze narrows, even as his mouth curves up at the corners. “The only person I explain myself to is my mate.” His eyes flick to me, and they gentle. “But if you want me to tell them the truth,” he says, directing his words to me, “then I will.”

I stare at him while the rest of the room waits. The sorcerer was right when he pointed out that the pack hasn’t been very friendly to me since the last time I visited them. However, they were the ones who extended their help to me when no one else would. For that alone, I’m willing to help.

“I do want that,” I finally say.

The sorcerer’s eyes roam over my features, then he straightens in his seat. “All right,” he says, his eyes sweeping over the room, “I will tell you what no one else besides Selene knows. But because this information is confidential, I need something from you all.”

Irene and Kane both begin to growl, and Vincent’s face hardens.

“A truth spell will do.”

The growls don’t stop, and maybe it’s seeing Memnon hurt earlier or how he advocated for me only minutes ago, but a protectiveness toward him rises up in me.

“You have your pack. I have my mate,” I say. “I am innately loyal to him—even when I don’t wish to be. And friend of the pack or not, I won’t ask Memnon to tell you a single piece of information if you cannot do this one thing—an act that your pack asked of me only days ago.”

Memnon stiffens next to me, and I feel his eyes on my face. Through our bond, his emotions are hard to make out, but I gather that he didn’t expect the show of loyalty from me.

I didn’t entirely expect it either.

The growls die down until the room is painfully quiet. Vincent is grimacing, and Kane is looking at me like maybe he doesn’t know me.

“Do it.” This comes from Apani. Her eyes move to mine, looking more wolfish than human. “This girl saved our own and nearly died doing so. She has earned our trust and friendship. We can allow her to ask for ours as well.”

The alpha glances first at Apani, then at Kane and his beta.

Finally, he grimaces. “All right, we’ll do it.”

Placing four adult shifters under a truth spell is no small thing, and I sense that Memnon is relishing every second of it.

“Only the truth shall leave these lips until my questions are answered,” the sorcerer incants.

The shifters cannot see Memnon’s indigo magic as it moves toward them, but I see Vincent scowl and Irene flinch as the magical smoke slides up their nostrils and down through their mouths, and I know they must sense the spell as it takes hold.

Once the magic settles, Irene says, “Now what?”

“Now, you answer a few of my questions. If you’re not compromised, then you can ask me whatever you please.”

“Compromised?” Kane echoes, but Memnon doesn’t elaborate.

None of the shifters look particularly pleased. Tonight Memnon was the one who was supposed to answer questions, not them.

But Vincent clears his throat and threads his hands together on the table in front of him.

“Let’s get this over with then,” he says.

Memnon’s gaze moves over the group. “Have any of you been magically bonded in your life?”

Three nos ring out. The single yes comes from Vincent.

I raise my eyebrows. That’s interesting.

“Was it against your will?” Memnon asks.

“My wife is a witch.” Vincent bites out the words. “It was part of our marital vows.”

A bit hypocritical of the Marin Pack to have come down so hard on my own forged bond when this entire time, their leader had one of his own.

“Was it against your will?” Memnon presses.

“No,” Vincent growls out.

Memnon’s gaze sweeps back over the room. “Have any of you worked for Ensanguine Enterprises or the Fortuna family at any point in your life?”

Four no’s ring out.

The sorcerer settles back in his seat. “My questions are answered.”

The only hint that the last of Memnon’s truth spells has dissolved away is the faint blue sheen that leaves the lycans’ lips a moment later. It happens so quickly it looks like a trick of the eye.

Vincent reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stoppered vial of emerald-green liquid. Truth potion.

“Now that’s over with, I trust you will grant us the same favor we granted you.”

Rather than answering, Memnon’s magic reaches out and lifts the potion from where it rests and floats it over to the sorcerer’s hand. He unstoppers the small vial and drinks it down.

He corks the empty bottle and sets it in front of him.

Vincent’s gaze focuses on that vial for a moment, before it then lifts to Memnon. “Will you now tell us what you can of the murders?”

Memnon gives the alpha another narrow-eyed look, then begins. “I recently came to work for the Fortuna family…”

My mate tells the shifters mostly what he told me. How the criminal organization is run by a dynasty of sorcerers and the main players of it—Luca, the family patriarch, his wife, Annalee, and his children, Leonard, Juliana, and Sophia. How up until today, his job consisted of making bodies disappear, which is how he came into possession of the murder victims. How he doesn’t know who killed them, only that they appeared to come from the Equinox Building.

The sorcerer even discusses how he initially staged the bodies because he wanted to frame me for murder and how this last body was purely meant to make the Fortunas sweat. He ends with how he’s now being transferred to a different branch of the organization and likely won’t have access to further bodies.

When Memnon finally finishes telling them what he knows, Vincent frowns, looking the sorcerer over. “How have you gotten away with this?”

“I have an…aptitude.”

“Tell us about this aptitude,” Irene says.