I lie at the bottom of a deep well. Voices drift down to me from above. At first, all I hear are sounds, muffled and meaningless, but gradually the sounds resolve themselves into words, and the voices conjure faces and names: Martin's, quiet and anxious, and Julian's, tense and low.

"Is he alright?" Martin asks.

"The fuck should I know?" Julian replies. "You're the one mated to a doctor."

"I thought the Fae were good at healing?"

"Just because I have Fae ancestry doesn't mean I automatically possess all Fae knowledge and abilities, Martin. I was raised human."

"Sorry."

Julian sighs.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't even think right now. Fuck."

"He stopped bleeding. That's good, isn't it?"

"I guess. He's bound to have a concussion, though. I hope kitsune heal as fast as—"

A distant scream cuts off Julian's words. It ceases just as abruptly as it began, and silence settles again.

"Shit. I bet that was the guy who hit Kit," Julian says. "Ferrault was pissed."

"You don't think they... killed him, do you?" Martin whispers.

"Do I care? Hey — I think he's coming 'round."

As I had listened, the voices lifted me from the depths and towards the light, until at last I awaken fully, and open my eyes.

Everything is a little fuzzy, and a little too bright, and my head aches with a dull, throbbing pain.

Someone leans over me, and I can tell from the general coloring — pale skin and dark hair — that it's Julian.

"Hey, Kit." He dabs the side of my face with something cold and damp. "How many fingers?"

My vision clears a little, and I see he's holding up his other hand with his fingers splayed wide, but I'm not sure what he's asking.

"Tha's okay," I mumble. "You can keep them."

He frowns over his shoulder. Behind him, Martin stands, hugging himself and chewing his nails.

"What else do you ask someone with a concussion?"

"Um... If they remember what happened, I think," Martin says.

Julian refocuses on me. "Kit, do you remember what happened?"

I do; and with memory, my senses return in full, like an image snapping into focus. I bolt upright, my Mate's name on my lips, but Julian restrains me gently.

"Whoa – take it easy. You're hurt."

I see he holds a bowl of pinkish-red water in his lap, and a damp cloth stained with blood. I'm lying on a dusty, moth-eaten sofa in a corner of the same large room where I'd seen Ferrault, though it's empty now except for the three of us and a pair of men who guard the doors.

"Where is everyone?" I ask. "Where are the twins?"

"Outside," Julian answers grimly. "Ferrault's punishing the guy who hit you, by the sounds of it. Guess he didn't get the memo you're supposed to be in top condition for the Hunt. Elena has the twins," he adds, a sickly pallor draining the color from his face. "I swear to the unholy god of murder, if she so much as plucks a hair from their heads, I'll..."

He takes a sharp breath and covers his mouth.

"I won't stop you," Martin says quietly, touching his shoulder. "She's no longer my mate. Our bond was weak to begin with, I guess. Like me. Anyway, it's broken now."

Julian looks up at him. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine."

Martin's expression is blank: as devoid of emotion as a burnt landscape is devoid of life.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters now is the kids — yours, and mine. I'll do whatever it takes to protect them."

"So will I," Julian promises, covering Martin's hand with his own. "You can count on that."

The man by the front door stands aside, and Julian leaps up as Elena enters, carrying Luna and Luca in either arm. Her own children trail behind her in an obedient line, wearing exaggerated frowns of condemnation. The shadows in Martin's eyes deepen when he sees their frowns are aimed at him.

Elena approaches, and Julian takes the twins from her with profound relief. Then she turns her attention on me, leaning over to examine the wound in my scalp.

"Ah — so my brother was right," she says, smiling sharply. "He said you heal fast."

"As fast as any Wolf," I reply, doing my best to glare up at her through the haze of pain that still fogs my mind.

"Good. You won't need stitches then." She beckons at Martin. "Help him up. It's time to go."

"He shouldn't be moved yet," Martin argues, casting his children a desperate glance. "He's still—"

Elena flicks her hand, and the man by the door raises his gun, aiming it at Martin. He locks eyes with his former mate, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

"Not in front of them," he whispers. "Please."

"No?" She lifts a brow. "Then do as I say."

He nods and comes to my side, helping me to sit up, and then to stand. A wave of dizziness washes over me, my vision darkens at the edges, and I let him bear most of my weight.

He guides me outside. My senses clear a little as we walk, and I see it's just past sunset, the world in shadow but the sky still light. The house is a simple two-story structure, almost like a fancy barn, and it seems not to have been lived in for some time. The traces of a gravel path lead through a badly overgrown lawn to a long dirt road, where three large, boxy vehicles await. Two are unfamiliar, but one is Elena's SUV, which must be what Martin drove to get us here.

We're herded towards the nearest vehicle and forced into it. Martin and I take the middle row, leaving the rear bench for Julian and the twins. There are no car seats for the babies, so Julian holds them in his lap. The two men who guard us take the front.

Elena and her children join Jake in her SUV, while Selene, Stefan, Ferrault, and the rest of Ferrault's men ride in the third car. I notice one man wears a bloody bandage over his left eye, and wonder if he's the one who hit me.

As our driver starts the engine, his companion twists in his seat, looking back at us with a grimace.

"Stinks in here," he growls. "Smells like shit."

"That's because it is shit," Julian snaps. "Should have thought of that before you kidnapped a couple of one-year-olds."

As if in agreement, Luca's face scrunches with distress, and he begins to cry.

"Quiet!" the driver demands, but his words have the opposite effect, and Luna joins her brother's high-pitched howls.

"If you want quiet, find a store that sells diapers," Julian retorts.

The other man glowers, but speaks into the handheld radio clipped to his shirt, saying something in a language I don't understand.

Ferrault's reply comes through, quick and terse.

The man addresses Julian. "There's a gas station up ahead. You'll make do with whatever they have."

"Fine," Julian agrees, and does his best to soothe the pair as the car bumps along the pitted dirt road for several miles before joining the main highway.

The noise of the road increases, and between that and the children's cries, there's enough ambient sound to cover a whisper. Martin beckons covertly, and the three of us lean our heads a little closer together.

"Julian, if you had the chance, could you escape to Faerie with the twins?"

Julian frowns. "No. Doors can only be opened in 'thin places,' where the veil is easily penetrated. I've sensed at least one on your parents' land, but I have no idea where it is, exactly. Although..." He trails off with a thoughtful expression.

Martin fidgets. "What about you, Kit? Are you well enough to run? If you had the chance, could you get away?"

Shaken from his momentary reverie, Julian leans forward and grasps Martin's arm.

"What chance?" he hisses, before I can answer. "If any of us tries anything, the rest of us will pay."

Martin bites his lip. "Look, they need you and the twins, and they need Kit. They don't need me. Elena's using the kids against me, but..."

He stops as the noise of the road momentarily diminishes, but the two men up front are paying no attention. He turns back to us, his eyes shining with desperate determination.

"If I'm dead, she'll have no incentive to hurt them," he whispers. "I can give you a chance — you, at least, Kit. Cause a distraction just long enough for you to get away. I can—"

"No," Julian cuts in sharply, his purple eyes flashing bright. "No, Martin. Don't even think about it. Your kids need you; your Pack needs you. Maybe you fucked up, but this isn't your fault. Do you hear me?"

Martin nods, but his expression says he's far from convinced.

Julian leans forward. "Listen: if we're going to get through this alive, we need to trust each other, trust Dane, and trust the Pack. Don't do anything stupid. Understand?"

Martin nods again, and we fall silent as the lead vehicle pulls off the road at a gas station with an attached convenience shop. Our driver follows, and the third brings up the rear. We park, flanked by the other two. The man in the passenger seat digs out a wallet, rummages inside, and gives Julian a twenty-dollar bill.

"Make it quick." He nods at the twins. "They stay here."

Julian passes Luca to Martin and Luna to me, and moves forward to take the money.

"It'll be more than twenty," he says, leaning against the front seats. "They'll need wipes, and some food, too."

While speaks, I notice his hand move down to the man's side pocket, where the top of his phone is just visible. As he grumbles and digs in his wallet again, Julian slips the phone free and tucks it beneath his arm. I hold my breath, but somehow the man doesn't notice. Maybe thievery is a Fae ability, too, despite what Julian said earlier.

The man tosses him a second twenty with a growl. "You got five minutes."

Wordlessly, Julian takes the bills and opens the door, giving Martin one more warning glance. Then he gets out and disappears inside the store.

Martin fidgets and gently shushes Luca as the little boy continues to whimper and cry. We watch with bated breath as Julian traverses the few aisles within the little shop. The windows offer a clear view inside, and I see few places where Julian might hide long enough to make a call.

Then at the end of an aisle, he ducks down out of sight, as if to examine something on the bottom shelf. Seconds tick by, then half a minute, and the man in the front seat grows restless.

He reaches for the door just as Julian stands up again, a pack of diapers in hand, and makes for the register. The man relaxes, and Julian pays and returns to the car, carrying a plastic bag.

Leaning in to give the man his change, he fumbles and drops a few coins. As the man shifts himself to retrieve them, Julian deftly returns the phone to his pocket.

Then, with Martin's help, he quickly gets the twins cleaned up and changed, and gives them each a stick of beef jerky to gnaw on. Outwardly, he seems calm, but as he retakes his seat and our convoy gets back on the road, I see that his hands shake and his brow is damp with sweat.

"Did the store... have everything?" I ask.

He nods, understanding my real question. "Barely, but yes. I hope it will be enough."

Settling back in his seat, he shuts his eyes, stroking Luna and Luca's soft curls. Tucked in their father's arms, the twins growl happily over their jerky, unaware of the dangers surrounding us, and of what awaits us ahead.