Dawn comes before we call off the search. It's been clear for some time that there's nothing to find, but no one dares say as much to Dane. Emotions rule over reason in Wolf form, and his are high and fraught with anguish and uncertainty as he fears for his children and his mate.

On the other hand, he'll run himself to death in his desperation, and that won't help anyone – least of all Julian and the twins. And so, as the sun peeks above the eastern hills, and he turns back to go over the same ground yet again, I step in front of him and block his path.

With my head lowered and my hackles raised, I let a soft growl rumble in my chest. It's not a challenge or an invitation to a fight, but merely a wolfish way of saying, 'enough is enough.' I hope he gets the message. In his current state, he might attack me without thought.

His lips draw back from his teeth in a snarl, and his amber eyes blaze with a fierce, feral light. For a moment, I'm not sure what he'll do, and hold very still, so he understands he has the next move. To my relief, he relaxes, the light fading from his eyes and the fur on his back lowering. I relax my stance as well, and wag my tail like a flag of brotherly affection. He shakes out his long, gold-tipped black fur, and snorts at the ground.

Message received and understood.

He trots away, tips his head back, and releases a long, low howl – a signal to the others that the hunt is over, and a call to return home. Then he sets off down the ridgeline towards Sasha's house at an easy lope.

We meet the others there – Noah, Freya, and Darius coming from the opposite direction, and Ambrose, Sasha, and our mom greeting us from the house. After we've all regained our human forms and retrieved our clothes, we regroup inside.

"Where's dad?" Dane asks, first thing.

"Upstairs, resting," Sasha says.

"It seems he was tranquilized," Ambrose adds. "Some sort of fast-acting anesthetic, I would guess, which can be quite dangerous for someone with a heart condition. Whoever did it either has medical knowledge, or didn't care if he died and simply got lucky with the dose. What did you find, anyway?"

"Not a damned thing," Freya says, hands on her hips and a line of worry between her brows. "No unusual scents. No tracks or traces of intruders. Nothing."

Ambrose makes a noise of acknowledgement, a thoughtful look on his face, but says nothing more.

"Where's Kit?" I ask, looking around. Being so newly Mated, it's hard to think of anything but him, and even a short separation fills me with a painful longing. I can't imagine what Dane must be going through right now.

My mom's eyes widen with surprise. "Oh my goodness – I completely forgot! We couldn't get a hold of Martin, so Kit went over on foot. When he didn't come back, I assumed he'd stayed over to help with the kids."

Dane speaks before I can formulate a coherent thought.

"Julian and my children are missing, your Mate was attacked, and when someone leaves and doesn't come back, you assume they're fine?"

His voice is a low, angry growl, but our mom isn't cowed.

"Yes, I did," she snaps. "I was a little preoccupied with your father and with everything else that's happened. Whoever took Julian and the babies isn't going to stick around waiting for you to catch up with them. The danger's been and gone."

"That's assuming it came from 'outside' to begin with," Ambrose interjects mildly.

Dane rounds on him, amber eyes flashing.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ambrose seems to hesitate, his own eyes shadowed as by a troubling thought.

"I can't help but wonder," he says slowly, "if by finding nothing, you might have found something, after all."

Noah, being the most familiar with the workings of his Mate's mind, displays a shock of understanding the rest of us don't share.

"That's impossible," he says, clearly appalled by whatever idea Ambrose has enigmatically expressed.

"There's more to this than meets the eye," Ambrose continues. "I thought Jake must be the culprit, but you've all assured me you'd know his scent. You tell me there was another attack, before, with no trace of an intruder found. Might've been Jake that time, as his scent was familiar, and you didn't yet know him as the enemy. Now, though, it'd stand out like a red stain on a white table cloth. But another familiar scent – another you didn't know to suspect..."

Finally catching on, I feel a thrill of horror. The only one of us unaccounted for is Martin.

"It's impossible," I say, seconding Noah's pronouncement. "Besides the fact we're his family, he's a Wolf. Loyalty is in our blood."

"Ah, but when loyalties compete, what then? Say, between one's parents and one's Mate, for example."

"I gave Kit my phone," Mom says quickly. "Call it."

Dane pulls out his, and makes the call. We wait in tense silence, and then he shakes his head.

"Voicemail."

"Damn it," Mom hisses, smacking her own forehead. "It's silenced. You know how I hate the noises that thing makes. You think Kit would know to flip the switch?"

This question is directed at me, and I shake my head. "He's used my phone, but mostly for reading. I honestly don't know if he's answered a call in his life."

"I showed him how. He's a quick study," she says.

"That he is," Ambrose agrees, "which makes me fear that if I'm even close to being right, he may have perceived more than was good for him, already. Some things are more apparent to an outsider's eye."

"You're forgetting this is Martin we're talking about," Noah says hotly. "My triplet. I  know him as well as I know myself. There's no way—"

"Do you know he's abused, then?" Ambrose interrupts, raising an auburn brow. "Do any of you?"

He looks around at us. I speak into the void.

"I noticed, yeah."

My mom's face pales, and her voice comes out a raspy whisper. "What?"

"I was gonna talk to you about it," I say. "I just... It's one of those things..." I trail off as I realize how badly I may have dropped the ball.

"Why didn't you say something?" Noah asks. I flinch at the betrayal and accusation in his tone, but his question is directed at Ambrose, not at me.

He shrugs. "Wasn't sure how far it went, at first. It was only yesterday I saw real proof, and an opportune moment to raise the subject had yet to present itself. I didn't realize there was such urgency. I see through disguises, not into the future, love."

"Then what did you see?" Dane growls.

"Enough," Ambrose returns. "I saw his Mate has no regard for him, although he loves her dearly – or he did, once. Rather, she despises and looks down on him, as one who feels a natural superiority looks down upon the lowest class. It was yesterday, during combat training, that I saw proof of my suspicion that her antipathy extended to physical violence. You were all Wolves, mock-fighting; but when Elena took Martin down, there was no play in it. She meant to hurt him, and she did."

In the shocked silence, I turn and stride for the door. Dane catches my arm.

"Wait."

"For what?" I snap, wrenching free of his grasp.

He rests his hand on my chest, gently, and I'm startled by the calm strength of his alpha power. It has the force of a slow, deep river, and it's so different from the wild, frantic energy he displayed during the search that it startles me.

Then I understand: he's risen to the occasion, because it isn't just his heart at stake anymore. Sometimes it's easier to be strong for others than to be strong for oneself.

"No one goes anywhere alone," he says firmly. "Not even you." He turns to the others. "Darius, Noah, stay here with Sasha and Ambrose. Freya, you're with us."

Freya nods and leads the way from the house. We follow the same trail Kit had taken, letting Freya go in front, trusting her to pick up the tiniest trace evidence. At the edge of the woods before Martin's house, she pauses, signaling for us to wait. She stares at the ground with a perplexed expression, her head tilted a little to the side.

"What is it?" Dane asks.

"Not sure," she says. "Wait here a minute."

Careful not to disturb the trail, she runs lightly along the side of the path and up to Martin's front door, then retraces her steps, staring at the ground with a frown.

"It's weird," she says. "Somebody – Kit, I presume – ran up to the house and stood on the doorstep for a bit. Then, someone else came out, and the two ran back this way together."

"But that makes sense," Dane says. "Kit told Martin what was up, and the two came back this way."

"Yeah, but only to about here." Freya points to a patch of tall grass, some of which is bent flat. "It's like they fought, and then... only one set of tracks leads back up to the house. And whoever made them was carrying... something heavy."

"Was it Martin?" Dane asks.

Freya hesitates, then nods. "Yeah. It was him. He's got those real short pinky toes, remember?"

"Shit." Dane starts for the house again. Freya and I follow on his heels.

My heart races with a feverish dread, and it feels like I'm stuck in a nightmare. Why would Martin, with his sweet sense of humor and his devotion to his kids, his quiet literary ambitions and his unfailing support for his wife, have turned against us like this? How could he have hurt our dad, and Julian, Luna and Luca, and now Kit? It seems unthinkable, and my mind reaches for some sensible explanation; but like a man reaching for a lifeline that isn't there, my thoughts tumble and plummet from a terrifying height to a black depth of horror and despair.

If Martin really did this...

I shut the thought off before it finishes, unwilling to give it form. He's still my brother, and after a lifetime of loving him as such, I'm not willing to give up on him just yet.

On the other hand, my fear for Kit is like a coal burning its way through my heart. I've only just found him, just accepted that it's possible for me to love – and to be loved – and the thought of losing him is unbearable. His soft dark eyes and supple limbs, bronzed skin and unlikely golden curls fill my mind, and the memory of his fragile warmth is like an ache in my very bones.

We try the door and find it unlocked. Dane pushes it open and enters, like the leader of a tactical combat force – which he was, years ago, before he grew out his hair and embraced his inner Wolf. He was something of a rebel, back then. Of course, Freya had followed him, delaying her transition to serve at his side, though in different branches – Army Special Forces and Marines.

And then there was me – the pacifist, who went into the 'personal protection' business because he was good for nothing else and didn't want to hurt anyone.

And failed, at that; and now here I am again, making a mistake and seeing it too late.

"Monty?"

I startle as Freya gives my elbow a gentle nudge.

"You okay?"

I realize I haven't moved. I've been standing in the middle of the entryway, paralyzed by fear, while she and Dane did a thorough sweep of the house.

Scrubbing my hands across my face, I blink down at her.

"Yeah. More or less. You find anything?"

She shakes her head.

"There's no one here. The kid's beds aren't slept in. There's leftover supper in the fridge. Whatever happened went down between dinner and bedtime, or 6 and 10 pm, if I have Martin's schedule down right."

"And we got back just after ten, which means Kit might've walked in on the end of it."

Dane nods.

"I'm guessing if Martin is involved, it's not of his own free will. Maybe he panicked, or maybe there was someone with him. I don't know, but I just can't—"

A buzzing sound interrupts him, and I realize it's his phone on vibrate. He pulls it from his pocket and looks at the screen, his brows pinched, and his lips bowed in a frown. He taps the screen and answers the call, putting it on speaker.

"Yeah?" he says.

The voice that answers is gravelly and almost unnaturally low.

"This is Dane Hunter?"

"It is. And this?"

"You know."

"Ferrault," Dane states.

The voice laughs. "Yes. I've got something of yours, I think."

In the background, we hear the whimpering cry of a small child, shortly joined by another. Dane is so still I can't see him breathe.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"What do I want?" the voice repeats, and laughs. "Everything. Meet me tomorrow night, at moonrise, in the meadow at the highest place in your land. You know of what I speak."

Dane shifts his weight, the muscles in his shoulders flexing beneath his shirt. "I do."

"Good. You know it is more than—"

Another voice breaks through, interrupting the deeper one, and my heart splits along a seam as I hear Kit scream.

"Monty! Dane! Don't listen to him! Don't come! It's—"

His voice cuts off with a sharp crack, and I scream with an anguish I don't have words to describe and lunge for Dane, reaching for his phone and the only connection I have with my Mate.

Freya intercepts me, knocking me to my knees with a surprisingly gentle move and taking the larger measure of my weight.

"Shh shh shh," she hushes me, cradling my head against her chest. "Don't let him know he's got to you," she whispers. "That's it... You're okay."

I realize I'm crying uncontrollably, while Dane stands like a statue, stiff and tall.

The gravelly voice comes again.

"Tomorrow. Moonrise," it says. "Then we discover who will live, and who will die."

The call ends, and Dane hurls his phone against the wall and shatters it to pieces, and I feel both our hearts break along with it.