He gave her a few seconds to digest that tidbit, and she took the time. “All right. I’m a cop, and we deal in facts. I saw men turn into wolves—and one into a panther. I think maybe I’m in a coma and dreaming, but I’ll go with it.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “No, you’re very much awake, though before long you’ll wish you weren’t.” He paused. “As the survivors recovered from the attack in a military hospital, physicians discovered anomalies in their blood work. It wasn’t long before the first man shifted into a wolf right in his hospital bed, and chaos ensued.”

“I can imagine.” What a wild tale. But still, she had seen the results with her own two eyes.

“Studies were conducted on the men, and it was found that each of them not only could shift into a wolf but had various special abilities.”

“Like the one you claim as a PreCog?”

He didn’t comment on her apparent continuing doubt. “Exactly. But each man’s is different. One is a Telepath; one’s a Firestarter…” He trailed off, a look of sadness shadowing his face before he went on. “It turned out they’d possessed these tendencies since childhood, but after they became shifters, the power of their gifts had increased many times over.”

“Assuming I can buy what you’re saying, what is Micah’s so-called gift?” She couldn’t wait to hear this.

“He was—or is—a Dreamwalker. The team and the doctors here told me that your brother could literally visit people’s dreams to communicate.”

Rowan’s legs grew weak and she sat down in the chair again, hard. Instantly, she was transported back to when she and Micah were children. Growing up, she’d had dreams in which she talked with her brother about whatever, and she distinctly recalled several occasions where they’d compared notes and discovered they’d had the same dream. But a lot of people had those. Didn’t they?

No, they didn’t. Not the same dream at the same time. What if…

Her mind whirled with the implications, and the truth was wrenched from her gut. “I haven’t dreamed about my brother in almost a year.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Nick said gently.

“Unlike what I was told by your colleague, General Grant,” she snapped, swiping impatiently at a stray tear.

“That was done against my better judgment.”

“And yet you didn’t rectify his lie.”

“I wanted something solid to give Micah’s family first,” he said firmly. “Grant was right in not giving the relatives false hope, and he didn’t want the questions that listing them as ‘missing’ would prompt. I just don’t agree we should’ve claimed they were dead without the bodies to prove it.”

She could almost feel her insides crumbling under the weight of all she’d learned. Especially about the brother she loved more than her own life. If he could walk in dreams, and yet hadn’t visited hers in months, chances were he really was gone. Despite Grant’s lie.

“Fortunately, I do have something I can share with you.”

Shaken out of her downward spiral, she snapped her gaze to his. “I’m listening.”

“A few weeks ago my team conducted a rescue op at a facility where some nasty experiments were being performed on shifters and humans. While there, one of my men swore he caught Micah’s scent.”

“His scent?”

“Yeah. Wolves have an excellent sense of smell. We can discern the signature of each individual scent and never forget it.”

“Sure you can.” Jesus Christ in a tutu. “So, was it Micah’s? Do you have any other evidence?”

“Actually, we do. One of the shifters we rescued told us that a man named Micah, who’d been kept in a nearby cage, had been moved just a few days before we busted into the place. We have reason to believe—”

“Hang on. Are you telling me whoever took my brother put him in a fucking cage, then treated him like a goddamned animal for whatever twisted reason?”

Nick sighed, looking weary. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. The man also fits your brother’s description.”

“What are those assholes doing to my little brother?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

To his credit, Nick didn’t mince words. “We’ve learned that a company by the name of NewLife Technology, headed by Orson Chappell, has a secret project. Their goal is to take shifter DNA and genetic strands, combine them with humans’, and morph them into a new, invincible breed of soldiers.”

“In layman’s terms?”

“They’re trying to create super-shifters with Psy abilities, and they hope to mass-produce them like an automobile factory would produce cars. If they succeed, humanity as we know it is history.” He scowled. “Chappell is murdering people in the process, too. You can bet his reasons have nothing to do with bettering this country or saving lives, but involve his own power and greed.”

Rowan gaped at him, trying to assimilate this new information. The seconds ticked by as the man watched her. “And how is that different from what you’re doing here? Because from where I sit, I’ve been lied to and cheated out of the only family I have left. How do I know you haven’t turned the story completely around, that you’re not the bad guys?”

“That’s a fair question. But let me ask you this—why would we have greeted you as shifters instead of humans when we could’ve kept that part of us a secret? We could have met you with a show of force, turned you away, and you never would’ve found out about us or what’s going on with Micah.”

“But you didn’t make me leave, and you all showed me one of your secrets.”

“Exactly.”

And they hadn’t harmed her in any way. They’d shown her their collective underbelly, so to speak, and hadn’t attacked. All at once it hit her. “You wanted to gain my trust. To show me you’re the good guys.”

He smiled. “Well, I don’t know about good. But as my men are fond of saying, we’re not the guys you have to worry about.”

Okay, that seemed logical. But none of it was very comforting.

Suddenly she was so damned tired. Her mind couldn’t handle any more. “This is all so messed up,” she muttered, shoving a strand of hair out of her face.

Dark humor colored his reply. “No argument there.”

“So what does your Alpha Pack team do?”

“We’re enforcers of a sort. We take care of paranormal problems that pop up all over the world.”

She couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped that was absent of humor and a lot on edge. “Pop up? Like the measles? What are we talking here, ghosties and ghoulies?”

“Yes. And much worse.”

The man said that with a straight face, too. “Okay, I’ll bite. Like what?”

“Vampires, rogue shifters of all kinds, witches, demons. You name it. If some being in the paranormal community is wreaking havoc, we get called out to either capture it or eliminate it. Some of them we bring here to undergo rehabilitation. You’ll meet the rest of our residents soon enough.” He shrugged, as though dealing with these creatures was an everyday occurrence.

“And I suppose you can prove everything you’re telling me?”

“I can, though I can sense you’re already starting to believe me whether you want to or not.”

“I still want solid proof.” She noted he didn’t seem concerned by this, which meant one of two things: he knew she wouldn’t be here long enough for it to be an issue, or he really could produce the evidence she wanted. Either way was troubling. “What about you? You said that you’ve only known these guys for a few months, so how did you become a wolf? Were you attacked, too?”

“No. I was born a shifter.”

Another surprise, which she couldn’t keep off her face. “That’s… neat. Was your family—”

“My family is not up for discussion,” he said coolly.

Whoa, the drop in temperature could’ve given her frostbite. Message received. “Hey, my bad. You can’t blame me for being curious after hearing all of this. No hard feelings?”

The man relaxed some, and nodded. “Not at all.”