"Absolutely not," I say. "I forbid it."

The alpha stares me down, testing the force of my will against his own. "I don't know how things work in Fish World, or wherever you're from, but in this Pack, our mates speak for themselves."

Behind his back, his own mate snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Martin may speak for himself as soon as he is able," I say. "In the meantime, the last thing he needs is to wake up and find that... that woman anywhere near him or the kids."

"You think I like having her here?" Dane growls. "Yeah, she kidnapped her own children and tried to take them off to be raised by some neo-Nazi-wolf cult. She tried to fucking cannibalize mine. Believe me, I'm at least as unhappy with the situation as you are."

"Then why is she sitting in the fucking parlor, sipping fucking tea?" I grit through clenched teeth and gesture in the direction of the room to which Elena has been confined.

"Because Noah made me get rid of the pit in the basement," Ambrose says easily, descending the curve of the grand stairs, at the bottom of which we'd gathered for our impromptu emergency meeting. "Martin's awake, by the way."

"Is he alright?" I ask, anger forgotten as I place a hand on the rail and a foot on the bottom step, ready to dash to my lover's side. I'd barely been able to tear myself away and had only done so when our unwelcome guest arrived.

"He's asking for the bairns, and for you," Ambrose says evenly. "I said I'd send you up."

I glance towards the other end of the hall where we'd sequestered the children in the library with snacks and whatever entertainment was at hand, which included Ambrose and Noah's rambunctious young dog.

"I'll keep them company for a bit," Julian offers. "Let you two talk. I know he won't want them overhearing anything about that." He nods towards the parlor.

"And I shall entertain our 'guest,'" Ambrose says. "If she's hiding anything, I'll soon know it, and if she tries anything..." He shrugs. "Noah bought a new hoover recently — a vacuum, as you'd say — and apparently it has a special attachment for ash. Haven't had a chance to try it out yet."

I convey my thanks and take the stairs two at a time. Dane follows at a more measured pace, and Ambrose ambles down the hallway to the 'parlor.' Something in his gait and bearing tells me he's almost looking forward to the encounter, and that Elena had best behave herself if she doesn't want to end up in the dustbin with the rest of the trash.

Throwing open the door to the spare bedroom where Martin lies, I see Noah helping him to sit up and adjusting a pillow at his back.

He looks better than he did when I left him, but still far from as well as I'd like. An IV trails from his arm, though it's just a saline drip for hydration, and his usually vibrant brown skin has a grayish, unhealthy undertone. Seeing him like this — so vulnerable and weak — does something strange to my heart.

I couldn't remember ever feeling as afraid as I had when he'd collapsed, unconscious, after falling down the stairs. Not knowing what else to do, I'd scooped him up, called for the kids, and raced out to my van. Bundling everyone inside, I'd driven here, banging on the door and shouting like a madman in the middle of the night.

Then I'd been pushed aside as Ambrose swooped in like a doctor in the ER, and watched anxiously as he assessed Martin's condition and did his best to determine its cause.

'Just unconscious' was the final determination, despite some bruises from the fall and a troublingly weak pulse. I'd spent a sleepless night at his side, keeping vigil for any change — good or bad — in his state, until the Alpha and his mate arrived in the morning with their unexpected and unwelcome companion in tow. Then, leaving Martin in Noah and Ambrose's care, I'd gone downstairs to check on the children and to ensure that my unhappiness at her presence was, in no uncertain terms, made clear.

Now, Noah relinquishes his place at Martin's side as I go to him and take his hand.

"How are you feeling?"

His eyes search mine with a question, and his voice is low and soft when he speaks.

"I'm not sure."

I frown. "You needn't see her. Whatever she has to say, she can say it to me or to your brothers."

"What about the kids? She hasn't seen them, has she?"

"I made sure she didn't," Dane says, coming around to the other side of the bed and pulling up a chair. He turns it around and sits straddling it with his arms resting across the back. "Julian's with them now."

"Do they know she's here?"

Dane and I exchange a glance. All four children had been distraught, to varying degrees, over their father's health, but the older pair had taken responsibility for the younger. Once we'd assured them their father was in no immediate danger, Noah had set them up with sleeping bags and blankets in the library. They'd still been asleep when Elena arrived with Julian and Dane.

"We told them to stay in the library and look after the dog," I say, "to keep him from running about the house and disturbing you. The younger pair bought it and have taken their duty quite seriously, but Flora and Miguel know something else is going on. Fortunately, they've been playing along."

Martin leans back into the pillows and shuts his eyes momentarily. "Good. Try to keep Nico and Rio in the dark, if you can. They're still so young, and she's still their mother, despite everything. I don't want them getting the wrong idea, thinking she's come back, or something. What is she saying, anyway?"

I give his hand a gentle squeeze, concerned by the weary resignation in his tone. Sharing another look with Dane, I let him take the lead.

"She's claiming the two of you are still bound as mates, or at least that your bond didn't sever properly," he says, his gruff voice cracking a little as he leans against the back of the chair. "She says that the broken bond is killing your Wolves, and that until you make a complete, clean separation, neither of you can completely bond with a new mate."

"That's impossible," Martin says, his eyes flicking open again with a flash of amber. "I felt our bond break when she betrayed us. And I've felt..."

He looks at me, and I nod. "I've felt it, too."

Dane sighs and bunches a hand in his long, ropy hair.

"All due respect to the both of you, but Martin — you've only known the bond you had with Elena, and by your own admission it was never strong. As for Sky..." He rubs his hand across his mouth and hunches his shoulders a little.

"I'm not a Wolf," I say mildly, "as we are all aware. Which begs the question: if this is a Wolf matter, it must be a terribly obscure one for none of you to have suspected it as the cause of Martin's sufferings, much less heard of it before."

Dane nods. "You don't have to tell me. I've already contacted our parents and asked them to verify, and I've reached out to several other Packs as well. Chiaki — Travis's mate — is a healer, and her Alpha's pack is almost a hundred strong. If anyone will know if this is a thing, it'll be her. In the meantime..."

"What does she want?" Martin asks. "Elena, I mean."

"Apparently, to be heard out," Dane says. "But she won't say more until you're present."

Martin sighs and sits up, pulling the IV from his arm.

"Fine. Let's get this over with, then."

"Wait — are you certain?" I ask, moving to help him as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He nods. "Yes. If there's even a chance she's telling the truth — that I can be well, and free of her for good — then at the very least it bears considering. But I want to see the kids first."

Noah nods and rises from the seat he'd taken in the corner. "I agree. But I think you should get dressed first, for appearances sake."

Martin looks down at himself and winces. Having been carried here in his unconscious state, he still wore nothing but boxers and a sleeveless shirt.

"Never fear," Noah says, tugging at his own impeccably tailored waistcoat, which I have rarely seen him without. "You're a size or two larger than me, generally speaking, and longer in the arm and leg, but with all the weight you've lost in the last year, I think I've got something that will fit you."

Martin grimaces, but nods. He can hardly face his nemesis in his skivvies — Wolf or not; and yet, as we follow Noah from the room, it's hard to tell whether facing his ex or Noah's wardrobe is the more fearful prospect.