I tighten my grip on the phone.

It’s just you and your bonds. They are the only ones you can trust.

I push away the thought. What would Roxilana say? Roxilana who lived through the death of her own family, who ruled hard men and women and saw too many battles.

She wouldn’t settle.

“Memnon has been officially accused of nothing,” I say. “Any assumption of guilt on his part is pure hearsay.” I draw in a steadying breath. In a softer tone I add, “Your alpha needs to hear what Memnon and I learned last night.”

“Memnon is not welcome⁠—”

“I control Memnon.” I ignore the sick twist in my gut that comes with that statement. “I will give him whatever command your alpha would like to feel more at ease, but, Kane, I am asking you, as the future alpha of your pack, to listen to what we have to say.” After a moment, I admit, “I think if we want to take these people down, we’ll need your pack’s help.”

We cannot trust the Politia, and we likely still cannot trust the witches. The shifters might be the last line of help either Memnon or I have.

It’s quiet for a long time.

Kane sighs. “Okay, Selene,” he capitulates. “One last favor for a friend of the pack. Be at the cabin at six p.m. sharp.”

The line clicks before I can thank him.

I blow out a breath, then reach down my bond.

Memnon? I call out to my mate. I arranged a meeting with the lycanthropes at six to tell them what we’ve learned. Before then, I’d like to discuss with you everything we know.

I feel Memnon’s slow smile through our connection, and it makes my lower belly tighten.

Hello, my queen.

My pulse races at the sound of his voice.

I will have to meet you there, he says apologetically, but before then let us chat like this and form a battle strategy.

A battle strategy. I glance at the news article once more and take in Memnon’s grainy form. We do need a strategy.

A shiver of anticipation—and maybe a little foreboding—moves through me. It’s been two thousand years, but I’m finally starting to feel like the queen I once was.

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CHAPTER 42

The meeting with the lycanthropes is going poorly.

It has been since Memnon and I stepped into their soundproof room minutes ago. Every shifter but Kane is openly growling as we take our seats. Even their elder, Apani, appears hostile.

Vincent doesn’t bother sitting. Instead, he leans his fists on the table and glares at Memnon, his wolf shining out of his eyes.

“Let me make something absolutely clear: at this point, I don’t want to hear what either of you have to say, I’m not interested in working together, and as soon as we take a vote to remove you”—he nods at me—“as a friend of the pack, I am planning on tipping off the Politia that I know who last night’s mass murderer is.”

My clasped hands tremble a little as I sit there and watch the alpha seethe across the table. I’m rusty at reining in my emotions, but next to me, Memnon is making an art of it. He’s splayed in his seat, his forefinger rubbing his lower lip, projecting only mild interest in the words being lobbed against us.

“The only reason this meeting is happening at all is because Kane insisted on it.”

Kane sits on my other side, just as he did during the last meeting.

I draw in a deep breath and force my frayed nerves to settle. “I appreciate you all coming here nonetheless,” I say.

Vincent glares at me.

“You’re an honorable man,” I say. “But the people who have hurt your pack are not. Nor do they care to play by the rules the rest of us supernaturals try to follow.”

“As opposed to your mate?” He nods to Memnon. “Don’t give me that bullsh⁠—”

“On Monday, November 13,” I cut in, “the night of the new moon, there will be a midnight auction at the Equinox Building in San Francisco. But this is no ordinary auction. Supernaturals will be auctioning off other supernaturals. Witches, mages, and likely shifters.”

The growls in the room slowly grow quiet, and reluctantly, Vincent takes his seat.

“Specifically,” I continue, “what is being auctioned is called a forged bond—a magical bond that connects two supernaturals together, potentially until death. Depending on the terms of this bond, one or both parties can exert control over the other. Despite the sometimes distasteful nature of them, forged bonds are technically legal. However, the supernaturals being auctioned have already secretly been bonded once against their will to force their participation and cooperation in these auctions. This is likely what would’ve happened to Cara if the bond had gone through.

“The Fortuna family then scoops up the profit from these … sales, and they will continue to do so unless they are stopped.”

The silence in the room is almost painful.

“That’s not all,” I say. “We’ve discovered the murder victims were themselves bonded to members of the Fortuna crime ring at the time of their deaths. The Fortunas use these bonds to exert absolute control over supernaturals. And like the auction, we know the murders are also happening in the Equinox Building.” I take another quick glance at Memnon. “And we have good reason to believe another murder will happen on the night of the auction.”

Before anyone can ask me how I know this, I add, “For witches and several other supernaturals, the new moon represents not just literal darkness but secrecy, obscurity, mystery, and confusion. It’s when witches are likeliest to perform illicit spells and forbidden magic. It’s the one night every lunar cycle when dark magic carries the most power.”

For a long moment, the room stays quiet.

Finally, Vincent lets out a long sigh and reaches into his pocket. He fishes out two vials of truth serum.

“Before we discuss anything further,” the alpha says, “I want you both to drink this so I can confirm the truthfulness of your words.”

I bite back a groan, but when he tosses the vial to me, I readily unstopper it and drink the thing down, wincing at the taste.

Memnon catches the vial lobbed at him, but he just stares at it. I can already tell he’s going to resist the alpha’s commands.

“Memnon.”

The sorcerer looks at me, the corner of his mouth curving up. He removes the cork then and holds it up.

“For you and only you,” he toasts to me, then he kicks the drink back.

The room is quiet as the potion takes effect. I can feel the magic winding around my windpipe and coating my tongue.

“Is everything you told me about the auction and the murders true?” Vincent asks me.

“To the best of my knowledge, yes,” I say.

His gaze shifts to Memnon. “Did she tell the truth?” Vincent asks.

“As she knows it, yes,” Memnon says.

“As she knows it,” Vincent echoes. “And how do you know it?”

Memnon and Vincent stare one another down.

Next to me, Kane rotates, his eyes fixed on my face.

“How did you get this information?” he asks me. What he really wants to know is what happened last night.

I blow out a breath, even as my stomach turns over. That earlier strength I felt is slipping…

You are the strongest person I know, est amage, Memnon says. Take your time. I am here.

I draw a deep breath. “The same woman who tried to bond Cara came for me last night—after the bonfire. Her name is Juliana Fortuna, daughter of Luca Fortuna. She…forced me to bond with her.”

The room is unnaturally quiet for several seconds.

“What?” Kane finally says. His voice has gone deep and gravelly. “You mean to tell me that if you had left the beach with me, this would not have happened?”

Memnon sits forward a little. “What’s this now?” His magic is beginning to unfurl out of him. He hasn’t heard about what happened between me and Kane last night because it wasn’t important. I didn’t realize we were going to have a clash over it.