“What happened?” Victor demanded.

The wolf shuddered. He was injured, and he was alone. He gasped for breath through his pain.

“Where is the rest of your pack?” Victor growled.

“I… They…”

Victor already knew. They had failed.

He released a long, controlled breath and closed his eyes. Stacy Drake was becoming more trouble than she was worth. “And the other mission? Has that failed, too?” he asked.

“I-I don’t know. We haven’t heard anything.”

The werewolf was beside himself. Probably because he’d seen his entire pack slaughtered. “Tell me everything that happened,” Victor demanded.

“Pl-please. I’m hurt…”

“Tell me!”

The wolf shuddered, then spilled. They had gone to the Thorn estate and successfully gotten past the magical barriers exactly as Victor had instructed but were met with more resistance than they’d bargained for.

Not only from Stacy Drake and the estate guardian Rowan, a skilled dryad trained in magic and combat, either. The wolf described a man who could bend the earth to his will and a woman who had folded herself in and out of the shadows, killing with arrows from a high vantage point.

“Who were they?” Victor asked.

The wolf didn’t know. Victor hadn’t heard of people with descriptions like that, though the woman reminded him of Voss.

It couldn’t be her. She’s hiding, Victor thought. Perhaps it was time to bring the wolf sentinel out hunting the vampire back to New York to deal with their newest problem. One that had started small and gotten much larger.

She’s growing in her magic, Victor realized. He began to wonder if there was more to her than witch magic.

“What happened to your alpha?” was the Titan’s next question.

“H-he died. Bled out in the garden. Sh-she killed him.”

Victor didn’t need to ask who “she” was. He tensed, fists clenching at his sides. Controlled fury masked his face. His eyes narrowed in thought. Stacy was much stronger than he’d given her credit for. A small part of him admired her fight. Maybe her defiance could be used instead of snuffed out.

I’ll find a way, Victor vowed inwardly, with his gaze settled on the city beyond his windows. Though he knew something was always happening, always changing below, everything appeared the same. His empire. I won’t let that witch ruin anything for me.

He turned back to the werewolf. The creature uttered a plea, but the sounds vanished as Victor drew a small pistol and shot the wolf between the eyes.

“A shame,” he murmured as he stepped over the dead beast. “My damn carpet keeps getting stained with blood.”

Rowan stood before the gates, gauging the damage. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “What was that thing?”

The alpha wolf had been a hybrid with something strong enough to melt iron bars covered in runes. The only way Rowan could think of to do that was if the alpha had somehow reversed the magic inside the runes. Such a thing would have required a very talented magician. He’d never seen anyone do that, much less a beast with blazing red eyes and a thirst to kill and feast.

It wasn’t like they could ask the beast what it was now. Stacy had left it to die in a patch of lilac beneath a window. Good for her, Rowan thought. She had defended her home well.

He channeled his magic despite the exhaustion sliding along his bones and wove new bars where the old ones had been. Fresh sigils appeared, and the gate gradually repaired itself. Miles worked beside him, restoring the leaves and flowers along the gate to their previous condition. Together, they would heal the grounds.

The pair stood with only the glowing sigils and the moon as light. The sprites had long since disappeared into the trees and would not soon return. Rowan thought of the grounds’ guardian spirits, who had also slipped away. Though he would have liked to speak with them, he didn’t blame them. They’d done their job and had no reason to linger.

Rowan became so engulfed in his thoughts that he stopped realizing what he was doing. His magic worked anyway. It was second nature. Stacy had been angry, of course, and she had every right to be. Not with him, but he still felt responsible. He imagined what Catherine would think of all this. She wouldn’t blame him, either, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty about it.

I am this home’s protector, and I failed. A pause, then, Did you, though?

They were all still alive. The house still stood. He and Miles were repairing the magical defenses. A soft wind whistled, and the night chill deepened. Rowan felt it settling under his skin as well as the ground, a sign that he was still connected to the land he’d long ago vowed to protect.

“I could do without the smell of wolves,” Miles remarked, breaking through the rumble of Rowan’s thoughts. “I’ll take care of them tonight. Won’t be a sign of them left by morning.”

“Thank you,” the dryad replied.

They lapsed into a deep silence, with only the sounds of their magic working to accompany them. Rowan remembered nights when he’d stood out here with Catherine, and together, they had poured their magic into the walls, wards, and lands to keep out foul spirits and anyone who might pose a threat. That was long before she married a dragon and gained a whole other kind of protection.

Rowan often thought of the Red Dragon, who lived not far from here on a grand, sprawling estate. The one Stacy had grown up on. She was born for this legacy, this life.

She fought well tonight, he thought. He was proud of her. Any doubt he’d had before about her not being ready to make this her home vanished with tonight’s events. She defended her home as if it had always been hers.

“Reminds me of old times and ancient enemies. We always seem to be running into damn werewolves, don’t we?’ Miles remarked.

“Werewolves have been hunting Stacy since her power awoke. They’ve always disliked witches, so they’re an easy group for someone like Victor Corbinelli to hire.” Rowan’s green eyes shone. “Little do they know, like them, she also has shifter blood. Though she has not yet come close to taking on dragon form.”

Miles gave a low whistle. “Won’t that be a sight?”

Rowan nodded.

“Greedy pricks like Corbinelli will always exist. It’s a real shame. We’ve been fighting bastards like him our whole lives, haven’t we?” Miles dropped his hands, his magic needing a rest before he buried or burned or whatever he’d do to the dead wolves tonight.

Rowan finally turned to his old friend. “I’m glad you and Kiera were here to help tonight. I fear we may not have been able to protect the estate if not for you.”

Miles gave Rowan a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Always, Rowan. We’ll always be here if you need us.”

Rowan hoped that was true, for both his sake and Stacy’s. “I wish you’d met her,” he murmured in a low voice, almost a whisper.

“Catherine?” Miles asked.

The dryad nodded, his green eyes glistening. “She was not only a powerful witch but a good woman. Her daughter is like her.”

“Then we will protect her.” Miles loosed a deep sigh. “We should head inside when this is finished. I have a feeling you and Stacy have a lot to share with Kiera and me about what’s been going on. Stacy seemed to know who sent that pack.”

Rowan nodded. “She does. We’ll tell you everything.”

After showering, Stacy headed to the estate’s war room. That was what Rowan called it, anyway.