“There is no body, and your daughter is quite alive.”

“Then what do you want?”

“She’s currently in Ursus County. We’d like you to come with us to retrieve her.”

Thorpe’s hands stopped moving, and slowly, he looked over his shoulder again at Van. “Why?”

“She’s requested your presence.”

“Why?”

Getting frustrated, “Could you just come with us to get your daughter please?”

Thorpe grabbed a rag and wiped his hands while getting to his feet. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Full-humans have been snatching hybrids and using them to fight. Like pit bulls. Your daughter’s name was sold a few months back, and we’ve been watching her ever since, hoping she’d lead us to them.”

“I see.” He studied Van again. “The Group, right? You work for them.”

He ran them, but he wasn’t sure admitting that would help him right now.

“You know, something doesn’t make sense,” Thorpe went on. “My daughter is all about helping. She gives strangers on the street food, helps out at the pound, and runs—while not being chased, mind you—in marathons to help different charities. That’s just her way. So, I see her being all over this particular situation like a bad rash . . . if she knew. So my question to you, Van Holtz—did my daughter know?”

“No.”

“So you were using her as bait? And Christ knows, my daughter hates to be lied to,” he laughed. “So she stuck you with me. Right? This was her brilliant idea?”

Feeling a small sense of relief that the man understood the situation better than Van could hope and, more important, seemed to be taking it so well, Van nodded. “You could say that.”

Thorpe chuckled a little more. “That girl. Look, why don’t I make this easy for you and me?” Thorpe tossed the rag to the ground and placed his hands on his hips. The sleeves of his sweatshirt were rolled up to the elbow, and Van saw the anchor tattooed on Thorpe’s right forearm, but it was the tattoo on his left forearm that was far more telling. It was his daughter’s name and her birthdate.

“Blayne likes to feel we have a rough-and-tumble acrimonious relationship, and I let her. Because in a bizarre, Blayne-like way it makes her feel more normal when, in fact, my girl’s weird. I know she’s weird. Her friends know she’s weird. And we all accept it because she’s weird, but she’s also amazing. And I want my weird but amazing girl safe. So this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to track down the fuckers who grabbed her and you’re going to do what the Group does best, which is wipe their full-human asses from the planet. You’re going to do this in a timely manner and then, whenit’s safe, I’ll go with you to bring my girl back.” He stepped in closer. “And, even after staying with those goddamn bears in Ursus County—who, by the way, hate wolves and are terrified of wolfdogs—my girl better be as annoyingly perky and helpful as she was when she was grabbed, or I’ll raze Van Holtz territory to the ground from here to the West Coast, leaving nothing but craters the size of the Atlantic Ocean when I’m done.”

Shocked, Van stuttered, “I’m . . . I’m sorry?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? That’s what I used to do in the Navy. I was an engineer. Worked with the SEALS. I can take an amount of plastique that would barely blow up a squirrel and level a city block with it. It’s all about placement, really. Find the right weak spot and I can destroy anything. So you’re gonna make sure my kid is safe, since you put her in this position. Or you can start telling your wife and kids now how much you’ll miss them when they’re gone.”

A shocking burst of anger shot through Van’s system, and his chest slammed into Thorpe’s, but the lone wolf only laughed.

“Come on,” he said, showing a smile he’d often seen from the wolf’s daughter. “You’re gonna fuck up that nice cashmere coat? And if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure when we get Blayne back, she’ll forgive you. Even if I won’t.”

The wolf turned his back on Van, and Van knew that Thorpe felt no fear from him. A true lone wolf. There were some that were nervous freaks, terrified by every sound or strange look. Then there were the ones like Thorpe. They’d sneak into a camp full of sleeping humans and drag one of the smaller adults or teenagers off into the night for food. Why? Because they didn’t give a fuck.

As Van returned to his waiting limo, he knew that they’d have to do exactly what Thorpe had demanded. They had no choice. Not just for the Van Holtz Pack’s safety but for the safety of everyone who might come in contact with the wolfdog’s father.

There were some very dangerous men in the world who were completely safe to be around . . . until something happened to the one person in their lives who kept them happy. Clearly, as irritating as he said he found her, Blayne kept her father happy. And if something happened to that wolfdog while she was living among all those unstable bears, then there would be nothing else for that lone wolf to give a fuck about—and to Van that meant everyone else would pay.

“What do you have on your feet?”

Blayne lifted up her leg, grabbed her foot in the palm of her hand, and brought it up until she could easily see what she had on her feet. The Babes didn’t call her “Flexi” for nothing. “In common vernacular, I’d say they were shoes. Of the sneaker variety.”