And then there was little Abby. How many months had she been part of the Group and she still refused to shift from her animal form to her human one? They only found out her name because they discovered it written on the girls’ bathroom mirror. And in the beginning, because she had a tendency to be destructive, Dee had placed her with the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack. Jessie Ann was her cousin-in-law and her dog Pack was tolerant of mixed breeds. It had worked out well, but then Abby started showing up at the Group’s office, still in her animal form, roaming the halls, begging for food, generally pretending to be the office mascot. It was weird. Then again, so was Abby.

Yet it was all working out, and Dee was just glad to have these kids off the streets. They deserved better than to be going through trash and sleeping under overpasses. Of course, every kid deserved that, but she could only do what she could do. And what she could do was help her own.

“Everything all right here?” she asked Charlene. The fox liked to check in on the hybrids throughout the day and Dee appreciated that.

“Pretty much. They’re getting used to being here, I think. A few have started talking about what to do after they graduate from high school or get their GED. I think most of them will stay on when they hit eighteen.” She glanced at Dee. “They kind of worship you.” Startled, Dee could only manage a, “Huh?”

“Gonna play that game, eh? Okay. Fine.”

Ignoring those comments, Dee asked, “Hannah?”

Charlene blew out a breath. “Yeah . . . Hannah.”

They’d rescued the pretty but scarred bear-canine hybrid with the brown eyes, brown hair with black tips, and nearly six-three height at one of the illegal fight training centers they’d shut down outside of Ursus County. Dee had wanted to put Hannah down then and there. She’d seemed so . . . empty. The pitbull no one trusted because she’d been in one too many fights. But Teacup had begged and pleaded and all the other shit she liked to do to make Dee-Ann’s life hell. Now they had Hannah here and no one would go near her, even the Unit vets who’d seen it all.

Dee grimaced. “That bad?”

“It’s not like she does anything, ya know? She doesn’t get into fights or threaten anyone. Not like you.”

Dee briefly pursed her lips. “Thanks.”

“But she scares everybody. She’s a scowler. A silent scowler.”

“Yeah, but . . . so am I.”

“It’s different. We know you’ll kill if you have to and you’ll do it without remorse. But so will half the breeds in the Group. But Hannah . . . I think she’s fighting so hard not to be who and what she is—she’s so afraid of it—that she comes off as just downright terrifying. Because you never know what’s going to finally set her off. What’s going to really make hersnap her bolt.”

“I don’t know what will either. But I’m not ready to give up on her yet.”

“Because you think she can change? Or because you don’t want to hear Blayne Thorpe’s hysterical crying . . . again?”

“I’m leaving,” Dee said.

“You mean running away from the conversation because you refuse to admit you kind of like Blayne?”

Dee stopped and glared at the bite-sized fox.

“Just kidding,” Charlene said, backing away. “Just kidding.” Dee left the office and walked into the diner down the street. She spotted Malone and Desiree at a table in the back. They were both eating breakfast. Desiree had a newspaper folded up for easy reading while she ate an egg white omelet. Malone was reading a full-human hockey magazine and downing waffles, toast, bacon, ham, and eggs. They weren’t speaking to each other and didn’t look up when Dee sat down.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem. We haven’t been here long.” Desiree pushed a coffee cup and a carafe over to her. “You want breakfast?”

“Nah. Already ate.” Dee poured herself a hot cup of coffee and took a sip. It was definitely what she needed. “What’s the plan?”

Desiree shrugged. “We could investigate a few more of the property owners.”

“Yeah,” Malone said, “but I really think that’s going to be a waste of time. Why would the ones who own the property put themselves at risk by having the fights there? So far, all the properties have been owned by those who haven’t touched them in some time.” Desiree poured herself more coffee. “You know what it feels like to me? A real F-U to us. To the ones trying to stop this. And to the ones who own the property.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, it reminds me of the time right after we were married when Mace got his sister to let us use her summer house in the Hamptons. She kept saying we had free rein of the house—but we weren’t allowed to go in her bedroom. Stay away from her bedroom because it was her private sanctuary, even though she only stayed there for a few weeks in the summer with her entire Pride.” Malone grinned. “You fucked on that woman’s bed, didn’t you?”

“Like bunnies. Because the more she said ‘don’t,’ the more we did. And that’s what using these properties says to me. ‘F-U ’cause I can do what I want.’ ”

“We need to find the money,” Dee repeated the words of the NYPD sow who’d put them on this. “They have to be getting the money somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Malone said, “but does it really take that much startup money to run a dogfight?”