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aligned themselves with Gordon Steppe and tried to kill me. Betraying their own daughter in the process.
    I could still see the hurt in Victoria’s eyes as she’d watched them dismiss her in favor of following Steppe’s orders and attacking me in that warehouse. How they’d ignored her, left her behind, and cast her off—over and over again. And despite mine and Victoria’s rocky friendship—okay, that was probably an understatement considering the exploding dog food in my locker—I still felt a ping in my chest when I saw how little she mattered to the two people who were supposed to love her most.
    “Get up,” Mr. Lexington said, still unmoving. “I’m to bring you to the clinic. You’ll start your trials today.”
    “Trials for what?” I asked, perking up at the idea of finally leaving this room.
    Mr. Lexington scowled. Apparently, I’d asked a stupid question. Or, more likely, he considered me a nuisance simply because I still breathed. “For the bond,” he snapped. “Put these on.” He threw a pile of fabric at me. I put my hand up and blocked it before it could hit me in the face. It fell into my lap instead.
    “You know, I keep wondering what your daughter would say if she could see you now,” I said.
    “Don’t talk about my daughter,” he snapped, his face reddening. “You’ve involved her enough.”
    I bristled at that but let it go. “Fine, let’s talk about your wolf,” I said. “Where is it? How did Gordon get rid of it?”
    “He cured me.” His smile turned sharp. “Just like he’ll cure you if you choose it.”
    My stomach tightened at the thought. “You’re wrong,” I said, swallowing hard and hoping like hell I spoke truth. “A Werewolf exists in you as a second spirit. You can’t cure a spirit. You can only—”
    “Only what?” he pressed. I bit my lip, unwilling to finish. “Kill it?” When I still didn’t answer, he leaned down close enough that his warm breath washed over me and I wrinkled my nose. “I was willing to do whatever necessary to reclaim my birthright. Just like I’m willing to do whatever necessary to avenge your crimes. It’s why I’m here. Don’t forget that.” His voice was overly loud and I shrank back against the excessive volume, but there was no ferocity in his expression, not like when the irritation had flickered first in his eyes and then in his words. These lines were delivered with a hollow expression. Practiced. Almost rehearsed. Still, I couldn’t help but respond. If for no other reason than to keep him talking.
    “My crimes, as you call them, are wanting peace and equality for all creatures,” I shot back. My face heated as my temper flared. I felt angry and helpless and resigned to knowing I would never change his mind. But I couldn’t sit back and let them pass judgment so unfairly either.
    “Exactly,” he said as if I’d just admitted my guilt. “You’ve decided to play God, handing out sentences and passing judgment where you see fit. Just like him,” he muttered, his voice dropping from stage volume to a near-whisper as he said the last part.
    “Steppe? I’m nothing like him,” I said.
    He offered a nefarious smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The video footage of your method of leadership would suggest otherwise.” Then he straightened and gestured to the clothes in my lap. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Be ready.”
    He turned on his heel and left.
    Video footage? What had I missed?
    I got dressed quickly. No part of me wanted to be halfway exposed when Mr. Lexington returned. The clothes he’d provided were made of thin cotton and I shivered even as I tied the drawstring around my waist to hold the pants up over my angled hips. Turned out being held prisoner was an excellent weight-loss plan.
    Mr. Lexington returned a moment later, the strange smell wafting in with him as he pushed open the door and poked his head inside. “Let’s go,” he said.
    “What did you mean by video footage?”