LA

moved my belongings-which weren't much more than a few changes of clothes and my hacking gear-to a suit

bird, content to sit in a golden cage. He didn't know I was a vultur

ring" of the Sharpe family's ruins, I used his secondary terminal. My fingers flew across the keys,

. Project

d a shell company called "Patterson Holdings" to systematically absorb small, independent pack territories. My parents' territory, a lush valley upstate, had b

the keyboard. My breath h

workin

t my ribs. Graham was leaning against the doorframe, his tie loosened, a glass of amber whiskey in h

Blackwood gala files," I

he small space. He didn't look at the computer. He looked at me. He rea

ous octave. "I saw the invitation for their charity dinner on your desk. You still w

whispered, the truth tast

is lap as he sat in the oversized office chair. It was a position of humiliating intimacy, but I was too drained to

into his silver-flecked eyes. "To be my hero?

n. "I'm the monster that keeps the other monsters away. You're going to that gala tomorrow night. Yo

terson file. The real one. I know you've been looking for it

e. He had been watching me hunt my parents' killers li