Mikayla is looking at me though this should be obvious. As though her being down here, a gang member, is nothing short of ordinary.

"What are you doing here, Jude?" she whispers.

"Oh, I'm being held here against my will," I whisper back cheerfully, and the blood drains from her face. "Kidding! Kidding."

"Coffee later?" Her eyes dart to Professor Lunetta, who looks like a vulture ready to flay us alive for talking in her class. "Or . . . hot chocolate?"

I'm always down for hot chocolate. "Yes!" Too loud. "Yes, definitely."

After class, instead of narrowing straight to the shop, I hesitate outside the classroom. I saw Mikayla pass by already, caught in conversation, and I know I'll meet her.

But I remember what she said, almost two weeks ago, about Professor Lunetta.

"Professor," I say, as Lunetta finally notices me. Her sharp eyes sweep over me. "I had a question."

"Yes?"

Okay. She's going for the hostile approach. No problem.

"I wanted to do extra credit," I blurt out. "Is there anything you could have me do or . . ."

She raises a single eyebrow, and the ice melts away. "I'll think about it, Miss . . . ?"

"Jude Barrow," I supply.

"Find me after your next class."

"Okay. Okay, I will," I say, backing into the door. I stumble out of the classroom, wondering why I feel so relieved she didn't skin me alive and feed me to a goldfish.

In the corridor, I see the professor of sculpture lingering outside. As though . . . she was waiting for me.

As soon as she sees me, I have another flashback: the easy confidence of her helping me up, asking me my name.

She knows. She remembers. One look, and I can tell.

"Jude," she says, as though she's testing it out. "You're . . . are you alright?"

I don't know how to answer that one. Fine, maybe I was taken here against my will, but it's me who's choosing to stay―at least until the Alpha gives me the chance to prove myself. Because until I get my revenge, I'm going nowhere.

At least I'm finishing my degree in the process.

"Um, yeah," I say. My hands shake a little, and I edge away from her, ready to bolt. Without Gianina here as a safety net . . .

But then she says, "I heard you talking about extra credit with Lunetta."

"Uh, yeah. She seems to hate me, so . . ."

Her brows raise, and her mouth curves into a dazzling grin. For a moment, I consider taking a sculpting class, just to have her as my teacher.

"I have an idea," she says. "Will you help me on my project?"

"Your project . . ." She must be who Gianina was talking about―the ex-Mafia boss who is renovating a floor for her fiancé. Lucky guy.

Her eyes twinkle. "You could help me design the architecture for the forty-ninth floor. You seem like you have a good eye."

I hesitate. "Would Lunetta agree to that one?"

"Oh, definitely." She winks. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve, convincing that old bat."

"I heard that!"

My eyes widen at Lunetta's voice, but the professor only laughs―such an easy laugh it's hard not to be infectious. I find myself suppressing a grin.

"Okay," I say without meaning to. "I'll help."

"Perfect!" she says, delighted. "I'd love that, Jude. I'll get Lunetta on board."

"Thanks, Professor . . ." I realize I have no idea what her name is―this beautiful, blue-eyed girl who teaches sculpting, who happens to be an ex-Mafia boss.

"Oh, I don't use my last name. At least, not yet. Not until I'm married." Her eyes become a little dreamy. Wow, that man is lucky. "But you can call me Cade."

"Okay," I say. "Okay, thanks, Cade."

And then I hurry to meet Mikayla.

It turns out, Mikayla was born into the Yakuza. Which, if you didn't know, is the Japanese Mafia. And after running from them, she sought out the protection of the Wolves and she's lived here ever since.

"And you?" she asks. "How did you become a part of all . . . this?"

She gestures to the flow of the people around us, tattooed businessmen and women with silk and fur and people carrying guns as casually as ice cream cones.

I think of my mom, saying, We need their protection, Daren!

"Same reason," I say vaguely. "Protection."

We've been sitting here for over an hour, and as soon as I realize it's noon, I jump up. "Mik," I say. "You don't mind if I go? My, uh, friend is waiting for me."

"Oh, no problem!" she says.

"Tomorrow, though?" I say. "Later in the evening," I add, thinking of the project Professor―Cade―wants me to work on.

"See you," she says, and I run.

I don't know when I decided my goal, while here, was to grate on Hunter's nerves as much as possible, but my limit is Tommy. And I was supposed to meet him an hour ago.

Maybe he's still watching over me on his sister's orders, but I don't like letting the kid down.

I know. Morals suck.

After jumping into the elevator and rushing down the corridor to my―Hunter's―room, I come up short. Tommy's not there.

But Hunter is, lounging against the wall, pinning me with an arrogant smirk.

"Where―where's Tommy?"

"Out," she says briskly.

"Out where?"

She doesn't answer my question. Her eyes only glide over me lazily, as though she's taking in the shape of me. A grin forms.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

She looks at me as though she wants to say more. As though she wants to push me against the wall and crush her lips to mine and kiss me until I can't remember my name.

But all she says is, "The Alpha wants to see you."

The Alpha. I can see it now, as she looks at me, and I understand the fear that trails her like her own shadow.

Anise rises from her chair, and I can't resist the urge to admire the simulations draped over the black windows. Behind her, the Manhattan skyline rises, and with a casual flick of her finger, she changes it to cobblestone streets in Italy.

"You wanted to see me?"

Her dark blue eyes are hard, chips of ice in the deep. She rakes her gaze over me, with an arrogance that reminds me of Hunter.

"That's right." A purr. "I think you know what I want."

Prove yourself to me, Jude.

"I do," I say, and I wonder if, outside the door, Hunter is listening.

She is now sitting on her desk, her bare, slender legs crossed, her mouth pursed into a slash of a smile. Dressed in a sheer coat, lined with fur, she reminds me of the college girls who kidnapped me for the initiation.

I think of Sylvie. Who had been right.

I should have never gone looking for the Wolves. But here I am. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to avenge my mom.

But then the Alpha says something that surprises me.

"Escape," she murmurs.

"What?" I bark. Is this the test? Is this her way of trusting me?

"Escape," she repeats, "and find the murderer. Then return here, with proof."

With a chill, I realize I know who she is talking about. That night, the day of the kidnapping, when I saw the dead body in the living room of the sorority house. But even though I called the police, there was no funeral for her.

As though the body, and all trace of it, had been wiped away.

Someone has been murdering girls around campus. And I caught a glimpse of the killer that night.

No, I want to protest. I don't want to get involved!

But I think of my mom. A ninth-degree black belt in karate. Who taught me, my entire life, about the art of fighting. If anyone can do this, it's me.

And I have to do this. Not just for Anise, but for my mom.

Because if I do this, if I prove myself, then I'll get a chance.

A chance to slaughter the Saints. To hurt them the same way they hurt me. To kill them the same way they killed my mom, but with no mercy.

"Yes," I say, and it feels like tying the noose around my own throat.

I only wish I could say I regret it.

Hunter is waiting outside for me when I walk out.

"What did she want?" A mild question. If I didn't see the knifelike glint, I wouldn't have suspected what's brewing behind her muddy-brown eyes.

The Alpha didn't specify whether I could ask for help, and I hesitate. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, I should tell Hunter what's going on.

But before I can, Émilie walks down the hall.

When she sees me, her eyes flash dangerously. But her smile is charming as she turns to Hunter. Saying, "What are you doing here?"

Hunter loosens. Just a fraction, but I notice. She is immediately at ease around this girl, who threatened me because of what I did to her boyfriend.

Something tugs, hard, in my stomach. Stinging.

I know what you're thinking, but I swear I'm not jealous.

"How is Derek recovering?" I ask sweetly.

Okay, maybe I am.

Émilie tenses like I've whipped out a knife. Her eyes, lined in that charcoal, become sickeningly bright. "He's doing great," she says in the same honey voice. "He's expected to make a full recovery. In fact, he should be cleared from the medical ward in two days."

Two days? I'll be gone by then.

At this point, chasing a murderer is preferable.

"Hunter," Émilie says, and I feel the sudden, but overwhelming, urge to smack her straight into the elevator. "Want coffee?"

You know what? Get your stupid coffee with your stupid friend and━

Hunter says, "No."

"No?" Émilie blinks.

I've already stormed away. I don't know why I'm so mad, why I feel like starting another fight, because there is no reason I should feel this burning, aching pit of fire in my stomach when clearly, I have no attachment to Hunter. No, you know what? I don't even care.

"Another time," Hunter says briskly, and Émilie watches, floundered, as the elevator doors slide shut.

Why did you do that? I want to ask. Hot and cold━it's starting to frustrate me. Does she want me with her? Does she hate my guts? With that edge in her voice, the searing to her stares, I can't tell.

Instead, I stand stiffly as the elevator glides down.

Hunter presses the 35th floor.

"What's that?" I ask, still seething.

"You'll see," she says simply.

I want to reach over and throttle her. I wonder which is a more painful way to die━strangulation or suffocation. Maybe they're the same thing. I don't really care, and I'm ready to find out.

But then the doors open, and I forget to be mad.

A practice mat, lining the span of the entire floor. Doorways with fluttering curtains. And the hissing, grunting sounds of━no, get your mind out of the gutter━fighting.

A . . . tournament. Martial arts.

I step off the elevator without meaning to, still watching as people clothed in anything from white uniforms to guard clothes spar on training mats. A girl holds her forearm to a man dressed in a black taekwondo outfit, and startled, I realize it's Mikayla.

Before I can say hello, Hunter shows me into a small, curtain-lined room with a sensei sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"This is my uncle," she explains. "He'll test you. See what your skill is, and he'll give you a few opponents to start out with."

It occurs to me that Hunter has only seen me fight once. That she has no idea exactly what I can do.

The sensei stands, and I see absolutely no resemblance. He is short, with dark brown skin and slender hands. He bows.

"Jude Barrow," he says. "Master Cai."

"Master Cai," I say, bowing. Because this, this, is what I am good at. This is what I have spent my whole life preparing for.

Hunter backs away, and the match begins.

>>>

You can probably guess why...

And yes! Cade! I missed her.

From the moon and back,
Sarai