“I’m not leaving you in Ursus County alone.”

“I won’t be alone.” She leaned against Grigori, resting her head against his arm. “Grigori will take care of me.”

Dr. Luntz snorted, quickly looking off, while Grigori raised a brow at his nephew.

“Like I’ll let that happen,” Bo told him, and to Blayne he said, “I’m staying.”

“Llewellyn Cup Finals.”

Then Bo Novikov said something he never thought he’d ever say. “The Cup Finals will be there next year.”

Blayne knew her mouth was hanging open but . . . but . . . he was willing to miss Cup Finals? For her? Had the world gone off its axis? Were volcanoes erupting while rivers and lakes overflowed? Had the world ended? She looked up at the sky. Nope. No pigs flying overhead, either.

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

“You’re willing to miss the finals . . . for me?”

“I attacked a van for you.”

“But that didn’t interfere with your schedule.”

When Dr. Luntz and Bo’s uncle burst out laughing, Blayne knew Bo had always been this way. And for some reason, that made him cuter.

“I’m staying, Blayne.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You wanted me to have a vacation. This will be my vacation.”

“All right. But I don’t want any whining about it later. Or any latent bitterness used against me when you’re at your lowest.”

“Where do you come up with this shit?”

“The Dr. Phil show.”

“I like that you admit you watch it.”

“I’m brave that way.”

“Sorry to interrupt the mutual weirdness of you two,” Grigori cut in. “But the wolves and that grizzly are getting anxious.”

“You want to tell Van Holtz? Or me?”

“I’m not speaking to him.” She folded her arms over her chest. “So you tell him.”

“You’ve got it.” She got the feeling he’d enjoy it, too.

Bo started to walk back over to Ric and the others when Blayne grabbed his arm, thinking of one more thing that could really make this hell on earth for Ulrich Van Holtz.

“You need to tell him one other thing.”

“Will it make him even more miserable?”

She laughed. “Oh . . . yeah.”

“She’s laughing,” Lock said next to him. “That’s a good sign. Right?”

Ric didn’t know. Blayne wasn’t acting like Blayne. She was closed off from him. He expected a lot of things from Blayne but that hadn’t been it. And he definitely didn’t expect her to walk away from him. That last look she’d given him . . . it was like she wanted to rip out his throat. Did she blame him for this? For being taken? For being dragged toUrsus Fucking County of all places?

Maybe she did. And maybe she should.

Although part of him was grateful to the bears for taking her in and patching her up, he also couldn’t believe they simply hadn’t taken her to the closest shifter-run hospital right there in Brooklyn. They’d transported her out of the state and away from those who’d protect her and didn’t see her as “nearly too much wolf to tolerate” as one recently mauled boar with facial lacerations had muttered.

Well, whether she blamed him or not, and whether she was right to blame him or not didn’t matter. All that mattered at this very moment was getting Blayne Thorpe back to the city and absolute safety.

“They’re heading back,” Lock said low, and Ric turned to face them.

That idiot Novikov led the way, and Ric was kicking himself he’d hired the prick for the team. Sure, they were heading to the Cup Finals because of said prick, but that wasn’t the point. He was much too close to Blayne for Ric and Lock’s liking, and once they had her back home, Ric was going to put a stop to all the bullshit.

Novikov walked up to him, looked him over, and said, “We’re not going back.”

Ric waited for some kind of punch line, some kind of indication the big oaf was joking. Unfortunately, Ric kept waiting.

Lock, however, didn’t wait. “What do you mean she’s not going back?”

Like Ric, Lock could give a flying fuck what Novikov did or didn’t do and who he did or didn’t do it with, but Blayne was another story all together.

“Was I not clear in my word usage?” Novikov asked with a condescension worthy of British royalty. “Should I simply use smaller words or speak slower to help you understand?”

Lock stepped into Novikov and Ric quickly got between the two. Something he knew was kind of stupid, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he didn’t have time for their boar-posturing bullshit.

“Are you telling us,” Ric said, trying to pretend that two males much bigger than him were not snarling and snapping at each other over his head, “that Blayne isn’t coming back ever?”

“No. That’s not what I’m telling you. But Blayne doesn’t feel safe in New York. She feels safe here. And I’m on vacation. I need a vacation.”

“Blayne feels safer in Ursus County?” He couldn’t help but take a quick glance at all the bears standing around . . . scowling. “Did she hit her head?”

“Heh. Funny,” said the man with absolutely no sense of humor.

“Blayne’s coming home with me, Novikov.”

“No, Van Holtz. She’s not. But,” he said before Ric could put up a worthy fight, “she will go back to New York when her father comes to pick her up.”