They were in her bedroom at the tower. Through her bleary eyes, Elise could see Gerard and Isaiah caught in a tense conversation at the door. She couldn't hear what they were saying. The sound of their hearts thundered too loudly in her ears.

"The pie was poisoned with some kind of metal," Neuma said. "They're trying to find the asshole that did it."

Elise's head was pounding. She struggled to think. "What kind of metal is poisonous?"

"Don't know yet."

"Bet you it was mined at the House of Volac."

"It's not your problem right now," Neuma said, smoothing her hand over Elise's forehead. "Focus on getting stronger first. Vengeance later."

She pushed Neuma's arm aside and sat up. It made the room whirl around her. "Where's Lincoln? Is he okay?"

The direction of Neuma's gaze answered the question for her. Elise looked to the opposite side of her vast bed. Deputy Lincoln Marshall was unconscious on top of the sheets, sweat drenching his forehead, chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes were still closed.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Neuma said. "I don't know what to do."

The bed sheets were wet and sticky with Elise's vomit. She kicked them off and crawled over to Lincoln's side of the bed.

She pressed her hand to his chest and stared into his skull. He was sickly, fading, even as she felt herself returning to normal. Lincoln was a much less powerful demon than she was. Half-mortal. What barely gave her heartburn could kill him.

"Who did this to us?" Elise asked. She surprised herself with the heat in her voice.

"They're still searching for the cook that baked the pie. Whatever did this to you, someone put it there on purpose."

Another assassination attempt, and Lincoln was collateral damage.

Anger clenched in her heart. Poison was such an affront to her pride. A weasel way of trying to kill someone. There was no way to fight back against that-nothing to stab, nothing to shoot.

Neuma was still speaking. "I don't know what to feed Lincoln. He didn't respond to blood. Then Isaiah tried to heal him with magic, but that didn't work either, and he's the strongest witch in the Palace. We don't got anyone better." She said it so gently, like she was breaking bad news to Elise. The worst kind of news.

She was telling Elise that she thought Lincoln was still going to die.

Elise wasn't going to let that happen.

She closed her eyes, took off her warding ring, and reached out to the only person she knew that could help.

Where are you? she thought, turning her thoughts inward.

Even though her eyelids were shut, she could see as though her eyes were open. She saw another world. An empty kitchen, windows that were fogged with ash, the faint orange light of fading sunlight. Someone had been cooking, judging by the faintest odor of gas. Candles burned on the countertop, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

It took James so long to respond that she almost thought that he hadn't heard her, even though she felt the brush of his mind against hers.

James, where are you? she repeated, louder this time, pushing her consciousness against his.

No, he had heard-he was only shocked that she had reached out to him.

His voice in her mind was touched with sadness.

I'm home, Elise.

Rylie awoke to the sound of pounding. At first she thought that she was hearing the churning of machinery in Dis, and she was alert instantly. Her heart jackhammered.

She didn't manage to get out of bed before the fists crashed through her front door.

Abel was on his feet in an instant, sending the sheets to the floor. He had been sleeping naked. His skin was slicked with sweat. "Wait here," he said, golden eyes flashing in the darkness.

He crossed the bedroom in three strides, flung open the bedroom door, and launched into the living room.

"Abel, wait!" she gasped.

She tripped on the way out of bed, ankles tangled in the blankets. She hit the floor on all fours.

From her vantage point, she watched her mate fighting the intruders. They were silhouetted by floodlights outside. Those security lights hadn't been turned on lately, since Elise had been protecting the fissure from the other side, but someone had positioned them outside her cottage and fired up the generators.

This is it, she realized with a wash of a chill. This is the end.

She wasn't sure how she knew it, but she did.

Abel fell with a roar, pinned to the ground by several figures Rylie didn't recognize-three men, all of them smelling like wolves. A fourth stepped around them and made a beeline for Rylie.

Levi Riese strode into the bedroom.

The sight of him made her heart stop, but she wasn't surprised. Not really. Some part of her had known that this had been coming since Felton had confessed to biting Deepali at Levi's urging.

"Come on." He grabbed her by the elbow, hauling her to her feet. His fingers dug into her flesh painfully.

She jerked out of his grasp. "Don't touch me!"

He reached for her again. Rylie balled her hand into a fist and swung. She wasn't used to punching-biting and tearing, yes, but striking like a human, no-but she was still Alpha, with all of the werewolf strength that bestowed upon her. Her knuckles connected with his jaw. The force of it was enough to send him sailing across the room, back smashing against the wall.

Felton entered. He managed to dodge Rylie's second, clumsier swing, and tackled her onto the bed.

He was heavy and hot on top of her. He seized her wrists, shoved them down next to her head. His weight straddling her chest pinned her in place.

Rylie's wolf surged within, sweeping over her with fury. This was one of her pack, a submissive, and he had attacked her. There was only one way to handle such an attack: quickly, decisively, and messily, making sure that no other wolf would be stupid enough to repeat his sin.

Abel was shouting in the other room. Bones popped and ground as he shifted. Her wolf wanted to join him.

She could feel the massive, furry body waiting to overtake her, like the wolf's flank was rubbing against the inside of her ribcage. Her fingernails had already fallen out. Blood slicked the sheets as she struggled against Felton's grip, trying to bring her new claws to bear. Just a few more seconds, and she would have werewolf jaws, too-perfect to rip out Felton's throat.

Her spine ached, threatening to extend into a tail.

No. I can't change.

It was hard to think rationally while flooded with adrenaline, listening to her mate's yelps as other werewolves beat at him. She could smell silver-they had come armed to restrain Abel.

But she couldn't change. She needed to calm herself down. Needed to hang onto her human form, no matter how much it hurt her to do it.

She could tell by Levi's smirk that he knew Rylie wasn't going to change.

"Your sister will never forgive you for this," Rylie said. She wasn't sure he could understand her. Half of her teeth had already become wolf-like, and it made her lisp strangely.

Levi shrugged. "Bekah's never been all that interested in pack politics."

"Is that all this is? Politics?"

"That, and I just don't like you." He turned, raised his voice. "She's over here!"

A pair of men came into the room. They were wearing Union black and they carried silver chains. Rylie's heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest.

"Don't use those on me," she said.

"Do you hear this?" Felton scoffed. "She's begging. Some Alpha."

"Shut the fuck up," Levi said, cuffing him with a hard swipe. He knocked the werewolf off of Rylie. Even without Felton's weight on her chest, she couldn't seem to breathe. "We don't have to use the chains if you come nicely."

"Where are we going?"

His eyes glimmered. "Northgate."

She hesitated a second too long. They moved to restrain her, and Rylie jerked out of reach.

"I'll come," Rylie said. She couldn't fight them anyway-not unless she succumbed to the Alpha wolf's brutal rage. And if she did that, then she would never be able to hang onto her human skin. She would lose control. She would shapeshift.

And then she would kill every single one of these people.

Rylie wouldn't do it. She stood, and when Levi grabbed her arm, she didn't try to break free.

Her gut twisted at the sight of Abel in the living room. He had gone down hard, and now his animal body was bound in chains. He was a huge, majestic beast with sleek black fur, almost more of a bear than a wolf. They had muzzled him and locked it with silver. His eyes were glazed with pain.

"Take that off of him," Rylie said.

Levi ignored the command, shoving her out the door.

There was an SUV waiting. The back door was already open. Even chained with silver, it took four men to toss Abel into the cargo compartment.

"Get in the backseat," Levi said.

Rylie obeyed quietly. They had Abel-she didn't have any other choice.

The sounds of a fight hadn't gone unnoticed. The door to the cottage across the street opened, and Trevin stumbled out, hiking sweatpants over his hips. The instant he saw Levi, anger flamed in his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing, dude?"

"Stay out of this, Trevin," Levi said. "My problem isn't with you."

Crystal shoved out of the cottage behind him. Her jaw dropped open. "Oh my God. Is this a takeover?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Rylie, change me!"

Only Alpha werewolves could change on command, but they could also force other werewolves to transform in between moons. If Rylie made Trevin and Crystal shapeshift, then the Apple would attack them, too. The cult had come with silver chains. Who said that they hadn't also brought silver bullets?

How determined was Levi to get rid of Rylie and Abel?

Rylie couldn't allow her pack to get hurt in this. There was a peaceful resolution here, somehow, somewhere-Levi wasn't a great guy, but he wasn't a madman, either. He was just an egomaniac with a grudge.

But even though she hadn't reached out with her power to change Crystal and Trevin, both of their skins began to ripple.

Apparently, the silver chains hadn't knocked Abel out hard enough to keep him from using his Alpha powers on them.

"No!" Rylie cried. "Don't!"

Abel had never been as good at changing the werewolves as Rylie was. He didn't do it quickly or painlessly. Tonight, though, he practically wrenched the wolves out of Crystal and Trevin, like he ripped open their human flesh and tossed it aside.

In a torrent of blood and fur, the two of them changed.

Levi shoved Rylie into the back of the SUV and slammed the door behind her.

She twisted to watch her wolves attack the members of the Apple. Crystal was brutal. Fast. Downright mean. She snapped her jaws shut on the leg of the nearest man and twisted her head, severing the limb at the knee.

Another man lifted a gun, aiming it at Crystal's head.

A shriek tore from Rylie. "No!"

But Levi gunned the engine of the SUV, tearing down the road. He turned a corner before Rylie could see what had happened to Crystal.

Her stomach clenched. She was going to be sick. Rylie clapped both hands over her mouth.

It took a few minutes to gain enough control to speak. "Abel told me that he talked to Stephanie. She promised to ask you to stop messing around with my wolves."

Levi didn't look back, focusing on the sliver of road they could see through the headlights. "She did talk to me. I ignored her. Stephanie might be in charge of the Apple, but she's no werewolf. She has nothing to do with pack matters."

"This isn't just some pack matter, Levi," Rylie said. She leaned to touch his shoulder in the front seat. "You know you've always been welcome in the sanctuary. We're not enemies."

He elbowed her away. "Don't touch me."

"Don't hurt my wolves."

Levi's eyes were reflected in the rearview mirror, glaring at her. "Your wolves? The ones that you've mismanaged and gotten killed at the mouth of Hell?"

"My wolves," Rylie whispered. They had always been her wolves, always would be. She was Alpha. Nothing Levi did would change that.

Right?

Levi parked the SUV right in front of the statue of Bain Marshall, inside the barricades that the Apple had erected. Storm clouds roiled overhead, concealing the gash to Shamain that hadn't quite healed.

He jumped out. Pulled Rylie into the wind with him. They were right against the edge of the fissure.

"Why here?" she asked, pressing her whipping hair against her shoulders with both hands.