“Go on.” Dane let go of him. “We can’t stay here.”

In the van, the second row was taken up by Ylli and his wings, and Jonas and Noah were in the third row. Lindsay slid the door shut and led Dane to the last row.

“Hold on,” Kristan said as she started to pull out.

They had parked on the lawn and the van was hardly designed for any off-road usage. Lindsay had to grab the seat in front as they bounced across the grass and off the curb with enough speed that something scraped as they hit the road.

“Guns!” That shriek was Zoey, and the thud from the front was probably her sliding off of her seat and taking cover.

“Oh, grow up. They’re not shooting at us.” Kristan took a corner so fast that the van groaned with stress, and they were on two wheels for a moment. The next thing Lindsay knew, the van lurched wildly and there was a sickening crunch as something went under the wheels. “Oops.”

“That’s one way to take them down,” Ylli said tightly.

Jonas was babbling about the Hounds being able to see them. Noah’s calm voice was a steady counterpoint to it until Jonas trailed off, apparently soothed by the reassurances that Lindsay couldn’t hear over the rumble of the van. Noah seemed to have a nearly infinite amount of patience, even for people who had tried to hurt him—at least once they were disarmed.

When they were clear of the laboratory campus, Lindsay reached out for Dane. This wasn’t how Lindsay had wanted to bring Dane back to them, with news like that.

Dane pulled Lindsay in and let him stay close, but it didn’t feel the same. He was staring out the window, hardly reacting when Kristan had to swerve wildly to avoid a fire truck barreling through. Dane didn’t pet him this time, either. Nothing was quite the same. They were together again, but right now it didn’t seem like much consolation to Dane.

Still, they were both alive.

Lindsay would have to be content with that for now. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the engine lull him to sleep.

It took a long time to calm Jonas down to the point that he slept, but Noah remembered a wounded bear that had found its way to his mother—a feral, trapped in its animal form by pain and illness—and the way she had calmed it. Not all ferals were blessed with regeneration the way Jonas and Dane were. At least Jonas’s gift meant Noah hadn’t killed one of his own.

An old lullaby in Quebecois French settled Jonas down so quickly that Noah had to wonder if the man had roots in the same back country as the Quinns. He was relieved when Jonas closed his eyes and curled up on the seat, and when Jonas’s humming faded away into a soft, intermittent snore. The relief didn’t last long. It was then that he felt the dead tension in the van, the cold silence of shock and horror.

“We should have brought clothes.” Ylli’s soft voice drifted back over the seats.

“We’ll stop when it’s safe,” Kristan said. Noah caught the violet flicker of her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Not sure how safe it’s going to be with that thing you have there.”

“Quiet.” Dane’s voice was low, but his tone was as hard as a fist. “It’s safe enough. Stop whenever you want. Be smart about it. And shut up.”

Noah looked back to see Lindsay sleeping, almost hidden in Dane’s arms, oblivious to the poisoned sweat and antiseptic reek coming off all three of them who had been in the lab. He turned his attention to the tube still stuck under his skin. The wound where they’d cut him to insert it had barely scabbed over.

Something larger was under there. If he picked the stitches out, he might be able to remove it.

It should have hurt more than it did. The dull voice in the back of his head noted that he was probably still in shock. His hands were shaking, but he kept picking at the coarse black knots, pulling off the dried blood and worrying them loose. He had two kinked stitches in his palm and was working on the next when a low hiss broke his concentration.

“Don’t do that.” Ylli was watching him over the back of the seat. “Damn it. Noah.” He rolled his eyes despairingly as he disappeared from view, except for the curved shadows of his wings. He was back a heartbeat later, reaching over with a handful of napkins. “Here.”

Noah took them and mopped at the blood that was running down his chest.

“And here.”

Noah looked up again to see that Ylli was holding out a jacket that looked like Kristan’s.

“Cover up and try to sleep,” Ylli said.

“Yeah, okay.”

Noah wasn’t tired, but he took the jacket and tucked it over his lap. The touch of a sleeve made Jonas whimper and stir. Noah put a hand on his shoulder and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, the world was black and full of flames, and he could hear screaming echo in his memory. It wasn’t Elle’s voice, though, so it was nothing but noise.

“Noah.” For a moment, that soft voice did sound like Elle, but when Noah opened his eyes, it was Lindsay there, looking down at him. “We’ve stopped to pick up some clothes and supplies. Do you need anything?”

“A drink.” Noah didn’t have to be awake to answer that much. He hadn’t thought he’d fall asleep.

Jonas snuffled softly, and it took Noah a moment to locate him, down on the floor by his feet. That was probably for the best.

“I meant something like aspirin.” Lindsay sounded exasperated, but he was smiling, and that was better than medication.

“I’m fine.” Noah let his hand sneak out to touch Lindsay’s. “I should be doing this.”

“I don’t plan to share your nakedness with any more people than I already have.” Lindsay took his hand and squeezed it. “Dane and Ylli will be staying with you, Zoey doesn’t want to be left alone with naked men, and I need Kristan to help me with sizes.”

“Okay. Are we hidden?” Noah was desperate to stretch his legs and—now that he thought of it—he was just as eager to take a piss.

“Yes. We won’t be long.” Lindsay squeezed his hand one more time and ducked out of the van.

Noah nudged Jonas with his foot. “Come on. You have to stay with me.” He wasn’t letting Jonas out of his sight.

Jonas was surprisingly competent, for all that he was obviously impaired. Noah had rescued him on principle, but he was starting to see that Jonas really had been—if only recently—Moore’s victim in all of

this. He shooed Jonas out of the bushes behind the sprawling, gray megastore and back toward the van.

Jonas kept switching between all fours and walking upright, depending on what caught his eye, but he stayed close until he caught sight of a squirrel and stopped.

“Are you hungry?” Noah watched Jonas gauging the distance between them and the oblivious squirrel. He expected Jonas to pounce, but Jonas looked back at him instead.

“Yes. I can have it?”

Well, that was good. Noah didn’t want to worry about Jonas deciding to eat something inviting, like Ylli. And there was no telling the diseases he’d pick up if he were allowed to eat wild animals while his feral magic was broken by his collar.

“No, you’re going to eat like the rest of us.”

Jonas’s shoulders slumped and he grumbled the rest of the way back to the van. Dane, sitting in the open doorway, snorted at the sight of him.

“Let me guess. No squirrel.”

“Exactly.” Noah was briefly surprised at that, then realized he shouldn’t be.

“I don’t blame him.” Dane dropped the pieces of the leaf he’d been shredding and rubbed the green stain off of his hands. “There’s some fat ones around here. Better than fast food.”

From anyone else, it would have been a joke. From Dane, it made sense.

“I don’t think Zoey would survive naked men and eating raw squirrels in one day.” Noah looked around. “Where’s Ylli?”

“Getting oil for the van.” Dane pointed to the gas station. “Apparently, we’re a troop of boy scouts today. To other people, that is.”