You were right.

"Well, I usually am, but you're going to have be more specific," I say. "About what?"

The phone crackles with Elijah's rich laughter.

But there is no humour in his tone—only pure, unfettered emotion.

And then I remember our talk.

After waltzing right into his territory, I told him, They're going to take what's most precious to you.

Before he says, "They have Daniel and Alisa," I already know.

"How?" I breathe.

Tommy turns pale, stiff, at the sight of my phone call. Lacy, in tune to him, clutches his arm. Throughout the call, as he explains to me what happened, I bounce Kiara lightly, trying to keep her asleep.

"It would be improper of me to say I told you so, but I assume we now need a plan."

"I don't know where they're keeping them," Elijah says, and for the first time, he sounds truly . . . raw. Devastated.

"Do you know who it was from the Yakuza? Specifically?"

"A tall, slim Asian woman," he says. "I remember seeing her on the runway once. She's a model."

I grit my teeth. Pierce.

But if I was right about her, then Jude . . .

Jude.

"Meet me at the La Belle Voisine tomorrow," I say. A restaurant downtown—one I once planned on taking Jude to.

Once he agrees, I hang up.

"What's wrong?" Tommy asks, but I am barely listening.

Numb—I am entirely numb as I gently pry Kiara off my shoulders. Sleepily, she mumbles, "Mommy." Even as my heart melts, I am thinking about Jude.

Jude—who I told to stay at the apartment.

Jude—who I know wouldn't have listened to me.

Jude—who didn't believe me about Pierce.

Before Tommy can begin rambling, I am already out of the door. I have to check on her—I have to make sure—because if Pierce took Elijah's most precious people, maybe she took mine. My girl.

I am have just finished dialing Jude's number, slamming the gas pedal on my Audi, when the phone picks up on her end.

"Hunter?"

"Jude," I whisper. "Where are you right now?"

A pause flits between us. My car lurches forward, soaking in the sunlight of midday. Which direction do I drive? Where is she?

"Um, well, I know you told me not to, but—"

"Jude, you have to tell me where you are right now."

"Relax, Hunter! Why does it sound like you think I'm about to get kidnapped or murdered? I promise, if I look behind me, there's no serial killer."

"Don't say that," I snarl through clenched teeth. "Don't make me ask again, Jude. Where are you?"

Finally, she says, "Just outside of Pierce's house, why?"

I swear, veering my car right into oncoming traffic. These motherfuckers can move out of my way. My girlfriend is about to get kidnapped.

"I thought I told you to stay away from Pierce's house."

"Well, after you left this morning, she called me."

"She did what?"

"She said she was going out of town, so I decided to make sure she wasn't lying—chill, Hunter, I'm being suspicious like you wanted, alright? I went to her house to see if she was gone, and she is."

My car skitters across the road through New Orleans, and I hear cars honking at me, cursing. I couldn't care less—what if this was a trap? What if Pierce is just waiting for the right moment—?

"You need to leave," I order through the phone.

"What, like I'm your property?"

"I love it when you talk back to me, but not right now."

Finally, I hear her swallow. Maybe it's hitting her—my urgency. My fear. She says, "Okay, fine, I'm calling a cab—"

"Don't bother," I say. Pierce's house comes into view down the street, and there is Jude, standing on the porch, talking into her phone.

I slam on the pedal, going much too fast for a neighbourhood speed limit.

Jude's eyes widen as my car flies into the driveway. Her coppery flows back, her face bright and flushed, her green-grey eyes vivid. The sight of her face—how is it possible for someone to be this beautiful to me?—is enough to make my heart beat harder.

"Get in," I command, and for once in her life, she doesn't argue.

Her hair is windswept, her voice breathless, as she says, "What the hell was that?"

"Pierce just kidnapped two of Elijah's lovers."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Besides your obvious connection to her?"

Jude scowls. "Here I am, well and whole, clearly not kidnapped."

"Remember what I told you about the Yakuza swooping in like vultures, once our war is at its peak?"

"Yes," she says slowly.

"I think they're speeding along the process."

"You mean . . . what?"

"They're going to take what's most precious to the Saints and Wolves."

"And how am I most precious to the Wolves?"

Because I love you. I keep my eyes fixed on the road, driving along the highway. "Maybe it's because you're Mary Chopin's daughter."

"Okay," she says. "But if they didn't take me, and they did take Elijah's lovers . . . then maybe I'm not what they're looking for?"

That is when it hits me.

Because if they didn't take Jude, if she is not Pierce's target, then . . . who is?

"Elijah is the don of the Saints, right?"

My hands become numb on the steering wheel. "Yes."

"And Anise . . . isn't she engaged to that creepy wolf-guy I once met at the market?"

"Alistair. Yes."

The pieces are slowly coming to me. Clicking into place.

The Yakuza didn't take Jude. They took what is most precious to the Alpha.

"Which means, if I'm right," Jude concludes, "that Alistair was kidnapped."

I let out a swear that makes Jude's cheeks turn pink.

Because this has completely, astronomically fucked up our plan. Now that we have to include Elijah in this takeover, it will be that much harder to backstab him and collapse the Saints.

Finally, Jude says, "It looks like we need to go back to the Underground. Both of us."

"No."

Jude crosses her arms. "What do you mean no? This is a part of both of us. I don't understand why I—"

"Because Anise has a goddamn death warrant out for you."

Jude looks at me very, very slowly. "What do you mean by that, Hunter?"

The city is glittering through the glass of the apartment window.

Instead of answering, I clench my jaw, keeping my gaze trained ahead on the sparkle of lamplights and distant buildings. New Orleans at its finest—colourful and vivid and vital.

"Hunter," Jude says, moving closer to me.

"Jude," I answer in the same tone.

"Your sister, the Alpha has a death warrant out for me?"

"Not exactly," I say, still staring ahead. "But she's looking for you. And when she finds you . . . well. You know."

"No, I don't know!" Jude exclaims.

"We don't need to have this talk right now."

"You are so—so infuriating!"

"Trust me, please. It's just—better. That you don't go back."

"But Gianina—Mikayla—Tommy—"

"They miss you," I say. "And you'll see them soon. I'm going to add them in on our plan. I'm going to tell them everything."

"You are?" Jude manages. There—I've surprised her.

Sometimes, I would give anything to know what she's thinking.

Finally, she asks, "Why?"

"Because they deserve to know. And when we collapse the Wolves . . . well, we'll need a new hierarchy, won't we?"

"You mean, we're forming our . . . own gang?"

I turn to her finally, searching her grey-green eyes. She is so familiar to me—like I know her inside out. But sometimes, there are fleeting moments when I don't know her. When it hits me that while I grew up with her, she grew apart.

She forgot me.

Does she . . . I wonder, sometimes. Does she even want to remember me?

Maybe she keeps it purposefully buried. Maybe she doesn't want to know.

Maybe she doesn't care.

But I tuck the doubts away, and I give her my best cocky grin. "Someone has to protect the city from the Yakuza."

"You mean . . . us?"

"Who better than to keep the city in check?"

A delighted grin spreads on her face. "You mean, me and you will be the new Mafia bosses when this is over?"

"If . . ." I pause. I hadn't truly thought about it. "If you want."

I wait for the hesitation—the pause.

But she throws her arms around me. "Hunter, you would trust me to stand by your side? You would want me to take care of the city with you?"

"I mean, you're certainly qualified. Taekwondo, karate, jiu-jitsu . . ."

"Oh," she breathes, burying her face in my neck. "I . . . you . . ."

Is she thinking what I am?

I love you?

No. No—I need to tamp down these hopes.

I don't know how she can feel the same way about me. Not when there is blood on my hands. Not when she thought I betrayed her—twice. No, it's not possible.

What I feel for her . . . sometimes it threatens to devour me. To swallow me whole.

She can't possibly feel the same way.

"So you will?" I clarify. "You'll be my . . . partner in crime?"

It reminds me of friends with benefits.

"I'll be . . ." Jude pauses, pulling back. The city lights glitter in her eyes, gilding her face in a soft glow. "I'll be whatever you want me to be."

Unspoken, the words wait.

What do you want me to be?

But I already have an answer, and I don't think she's ready to hear it. Everything, I want to whisper. You are already everything to me.

I only kiss her softly. "Promise me, we'll stay in my apartment tonight. I called Anise—she said Alistair is indeed missing. But I didn't tell her my suspicions. Tomorrow, when I meet Elijah, I need you to be here. Safe. Please, Jude."

"I know," she says quietly. "I know. I will."

I smile as I seal the lie on her mouth with a kiss.

Jude whispers, "Are you sure about this?"

I take her hand in mine—squeezing it. Her fingers lace tight between mine, and my grip is unfaltering when I look at her.

Her mouth curves. Just barely.

"I . . ." Hesitation. "You have a gun, don't you?"

I chuckle. I am strapped to the brim with weaponry. "Of course I do."

"And . . . you have a knife?"

"Why, Jude, it would appear you are worried about me. Again."

She scowls. "Yes, and what about it?"

"Well," I say, and so fast she can't react, I pin her hand above her head. Pushing her against the alley wall until our lips are inches away. "It makes me want to fuck you."

"Is there ever a time where you don't want to fuck me?"

I frown, considering it. "No . . . not particularly."

A soft, sweet pink stains her cheeks, illuminating the constellation of freckles.

"I love it when you blush," I whisper. "It makes me want to keep whispering dirty things in your ear. Just to see that lovely red."

"I don't blush," Jude snaps.

"No?" I say arrogantly, and I drag one fingertip over her jaw. Tracing the warmth. "Because I beg to differ."

She tilts her chin up. "Then beg," she says defiantly.

Gently, I tug her lower lip between my teeth. Tasting her sweet mouth. "Just you fucking wait until we get home."

"I will," she says. The chatter of the city just a few feet away, masked by the narrow opening of the alley next to the restaurant, fades away as she looks at me.

"Good," I say, and I let her hand fall back to her side from where I was pinning it.

Moving back a step, my eyes shift back to hers when her hand snakes toward me.

Cupping my jaw. Holding me in place.

"But you will be careful, won't you," she says.

It sounds more like a threat.

"I'm a gentleman," I say. "I'm always careful."

Once I kiss her goodbye, leaving the cloak of the alley behind, I step out into the sunlight.

Through the window of La Belle Voisine, I see Elijah wearing a pink-feathered hat and neon-violet striped pants. He sits alone at a table in the back, staring at his menu as though he is debating the lobster or the snail.

And with all the confidence I have needed as the Alpha's second-in-command, I waltz right into the restaurant to meet the don of the Saints.

>>>

I am not excited for how this meeting will go.

And I'm also terrified for Jude. Bye.

From the moon and back,
Sarai