“So,” she said, her lips grazing his cheek, “this isn’t about what might have happened. This is about what’s going to happen. What we’re going to make happen.”

“Which is?”

“We knew,” Balt said, stepping away from his relatives, “that a shifter might be involved in luring my brother to his death. But we were willing to settle for this Whitlan. No use starting war when all we wanted was him. But now? Now we want war.”

Vic understood that on many, many levels. And he also knew the shifter code that even the honey badgers abided by . . . you never betray your own for a full-human. The ones who’d shot Livy had done just that. Not just the gunmen, but the one who’d sent them into a shifter-protected space and had them shoot down a fellow shifter. Not over a territorial clash. Or lusting after someone’s mate. Or even just annoyance with their presence on this planet. No. She’d been gunned down merely for the continued protection of Whitlan and because the man behind those gunmen wanted to prove he was not to be fucked with by anyone.

Bad move, though, when dealing with this particular species. Shooting Livy hadn’t made the rest of her family afraid. These were not people who backed off or backed down. These were not people who understood normal, everyday fear.

Instead of making a point, the attack would bring nothing but blood and death and pain.

“We will not stay here,” Balt said, his suspicious gaze studying the entire yard. “But I think our safe houses may not be so safe anymore.”

Vic silently agreed. Livy’s attackers had known exactly where to find her. So it was a safe bet that the Kowalski and Yang safe houses were compromised, as well.

“I can get us a safe place.”

“Vic”—Livy’s hand pressed against his jaw, turning his face toward her—“you don’t have to get into the middle of this.”

That was where Livy was wrong. Vic was already in the middle of this. Deep in the middle. There was no way he would walk away now. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Because where Livy went, he would always follow.

Of course, this wasn’t the time to tell her all that. She might be up and walking around, but she was still recovering, and he could see the exhaustion on her face. So any talk about what their future together might hold would have to wait.

Unable to say what he really felt, Vic just kissed Livy on the nose and said to Balt, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Smith!” Cella snapped. “My brother said he’d take your car to his body shop and fix it. And one of those badgers already handed over an ungodly-sized wad of cash to pay for everything Barinov’s roar destroyed, including your car. So enough with the dog whining like you got your paw stuck in a gopher hole.”

“I can fix my own car, Malone. It’s just, you don’t mess with a woman’s automobile. Do you have any idea how much work I put into that thing after I won it from Sissy Mae?”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, thank you very much.”

The pair sat on the stone wall that partially surrounded the house Cella had grown up in. The rest of the fence and the gate were chain-link and could hardly handle the combined weight of Cella and Dee-Ann’s collective asses.

“What’s really going on with you?” Cella finally asked the female who’d somehow managed to become a very good friend. Although that still surprised her. Because Dee-Ann was such a canine sometimes.

“What?”

“It’s not just your car that’s bothering you. Is it what happened to Livy?”

“Not really.”

“As always, such a caring person.”

“Look, the whole thing don’t sit right with me. I mean, to outright shoot that girl.”

“You expected more from Whitlan?”

“Darlin’, this is no longer about Whitlan. Those bears tracked Kowalski down at the Sports Center. And they were out-of-town bears, not even from this country, but they found her anyway.” Smith turned a bit so she could look right at Cella, and leaned in a bit. “And don’t it bother you a little bit that our bosses pulled us off the Whitlan case?”

“They didn’t pull us off . . . they just gave us other jobs and lowered the priority of the Whitlan case.” Cella winced. Even she couldn’t make that sound positive. But still. “Dee-Ann, you can’t possibly think that KZS, The Group, and BPC—”

“Are busy protecting Frank Whitlan?” She shook her head. “Nah. That don’t sit right with me, either. But something about all this seems . . . expected somehow. By everyone but us and that poor little honey badger.”

“Poor little honey badger, my hefty Irish ass. She walked out of the surgery without even a limp. Jai said she took sixteen bullets out of her. Sixteen! Who gets up from that?”

“Well, we better start talkin’ to her and Barinov, if we want to know what the hell is goin’ on.”

“Cella?”

Cella looked over her shoulder to see her mother standing on the porch. “What’s up, Ma?”

“I was about to order food for all those badgers . . . but they’re gone.”

Cella twisted around. “What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean, they’re gone. We searched the house.”

“I just saw them no more than thirty minutes ago, Malone,” Smith said. “No way they would have gotten past either of us without our knowing.”