Stacy wondered how much of Kiera’s skill was innate and how much she had acquired over years of training and combat experience. Those questions were for another time, though. She shucked off her loafers and replaced them with boots.

Kiera smiled. “I love a little danger now and then as much as I love sweets. If we get through tonight, I’ll serve dessert.”

After selecting her weapons, Stacy watched the fae woman produce a small vial of dark green liquid from her pocket and apply it to a blade. “Poison,” Kiera explained. “Another thing I know a lot about.”

“As long as it doesn’t end up in my dessert,” Stacy’s replied. She kept the awe from her voice, doubting Kiera would appreciate it. The sidhe fae wanted the awe of her enemies, not her allies.

Maybe one day, we will be friends, too, Stacy thought as she and Kiera headed for the stairs.

Silence blanketed the estate. Whatever Rowan and Miles were doing, they had not yet made combative contact with the intruders.

Kiera’s eyes glowed, and her voice purred as she unsheathed the twin blades. “Let’s show these idiots exactly what the consequences are for trespassing.”

Rowan stood at the edge of the estate with his back to the house and gardens. He poured his magic into the ancient enchantments of the stone wall surrounding this part of the grounds. The intruders were not yet past the gate, but they had passed the border beyond them by the road. They would be upon them soon.

He clenched his jaw as he bolstered the defenses. He had done this many times before and would do it many more times. It felt natural to him. Under his breath, he invoked the names of the spirits of the estate that Stacy had not yet seen, figures who remained out of sight because they preferred being unseen.

He finished by whispering Catherine’s name. “Protect your home. Protect us. Protect your daughter.”

He began to feel one with the land beneath him and the stone wall under his fingers. Finally, when he decided the defenses were secure enough, he returned to the front of the house and spotted Miles using the trees in front of the porch to shield himself from view.

The branches had grown longer with Miles’ prodding and formed a canopy over the pathway leading to the house. Shadows gathered under them, permeated only by the silvery glow of the moon now lifting over the woods. Miles’ face was grim and focused, so unlike the jovial attitude he had displayed throughout the day. Despite the situation, Rowan had missed seeing this side of his old friend.

“Didn’t think I’d be doing this so soon,” the groundskeeper murmured.

“I apologize that this is happening your first day.” Perhaps this was best. Miles and Kiera would quickly learn why he’d asked them to come here as the estate’s protectors.

Miles grinned. “What do you mean? This is the fun part.”

Of course he would find this fun. Rowan opened his mouth for a sly comment before he felt something crash against the magical barriers beyond the gate. Shit.

Miles stiffened, a sign that he’d felt it too. Another crash came, more ferocious than the first. The ground itself seemed to shudder, and runes glowed in response along the various barriers. The house, the stone wall at the edge of the estate, the trees, and the gate.

A third blast of magic landed. This time, it didn’t rumble through the ground but slammed into the gate. Portions of the bars disintegrated, turning to dust that floated away on the wind.

“Uh, was that supposed to happen?” Miles squeaked.

Breathless, Rowan shook his head. “It’s never happened before.” Whoever these people were, they’d brought someone who knew how to break through rune-held wards. They had created a hole in the runes’ defenses. It was a small hole and took a considerable amount of effort to make, but the damage was enough.

Shit, shit, shit.

Rowan glanced beyond the trees at the perfect, whole shape of the moon. “Oh, fucking hell. Of course.”

“What?” Miles demanded.

“Full moon tonight.”

Miles didn’t understand why Rowan said this until a long howl rose, and a pack of werewolves stalked through the broken gate, fur bristling and canines shining.

The warehouse appeared abandoned, but Amy was almost one hundred percent certain it wasn’t.

“This is on the list?” Spencer asked, casting a dubious eye over the decrepit, shabby building. Much of it sagged, appearing as though one strong gust of wind could knock it over.

“Sure is. Victor Corbinelli owns this one and several others on the outskirts of the city. All part of his new operation. Old rail tunnels run through this area. The warehouses are simply a front, I believe.” She inspected the building. The sun was beginning to set, and shadows grew long and thick on the pothole-filled road. Weeds had sprung along the sides of the old building and filled several cracks and holes in the parking lot.

“You’d think with all the money Corbinelli has, he would have at least paid to repave the parking lot and repair the building,” Amy remarked. “But maybe he left it looking dingy on purpose. Keep people from looking too closely.”

And yet, here she was.

Spencer had parked Amy’s car off the road, where they could not be seen. “There they are,” Amy whispered. Several men emerged from the warehouse and loitered by a side exit, speaking in low enough voices that neither Amy nor Spencer could distinguish their words. Finally, two of them went to a nearby truck and began unloading crates from the back. The others headed inside.

The men’s presence told Amy they would not be going inside to investigate, but she held up a camera with a wide-reaching, close-zoom lens and snapped a few pictures, capturing their faces.

“I’ve heard of the guy,” Spencer spoke up. “I’ve seen Corbinelli’s face on a few billboards. Never liked him, though I can’t tell exactly why I feel that way. Something about his eyes.”

“He’s a billionaire who hordes all his money and steps on anyone he wants to,” Amy responded dryly. “I don’t like him, either.” Not to mention all the times he’d sent someone after her or Stacy. She didn’t mention this to Spencer. He already knew, and the tension he felt was obvious in his shoulders and his tight hold on the steering wheel.

Spencer glanced in the rearview as a small black car pulled onto the road. “Recognize that?” he asked Amy.

She twisted in her seat, brows drawing together. “That’s the car I thought I saw this morning!”

“We are being followed,” Spencer stated grimly. “I noticed it one other time earlier this afternoon but didn’t think much of it then.”

Amy sounded more irritated than fearful when she replied, “Let’s get out of here.”

He pulled onto the road and sped away. The car followed.

“Shit,” Spencer muttered.

“Can you shake him?”

“I’ll try.”

Spencer took to the twisting roads, taking turn after turn at a greater speed than the car pursuing dared to follow. Their pursuer didn’t seem to want them to know he was after them. A few maneuvers later, the car was gone.

Amy released a deep sigh of relief as Spencer pulled onto a small road leading into a clump of trees. The sun was nearly gone by this point. She consulted a map she’d been using all day. “We’re close to one of Victor’s offices. His main one is in the Financial District, with a few others outside the city. We can go there and check it out, then maybe head home after.”

Amy checked the time on the dashboard and remembered she’d told Stacy she would be home after dinner. “We won’t make it,” she told Spencer. Then, she tried to text her friend, but she found she had no service.

“We’ll make it quick,” Spencer replied. He grinned and added, “I’m starting to get hungry.”

Rowan and Miles sprang into action.