"Try sunglasses," she said. "The weather appears severe."

Ronan watched her walk away. "I think she likes me."

"She thinks you're an idiot."

"The line is thin."

At one fifteen, the pharmacy van left the hospital.

The black sedan followed within two minutes.

It kept three cars between them through town, then closed the distance after the highway turn. A second vehicle—a blue pickup registered to a city maintenance contractor—joined behind it.

"Two teams," Bishop said through Silas's helmet. "Grant sent insurance."

The pharmacy van reached the abandoned clinic at one thirty-eight. The driver carried the marked crate inside, locked the door, and exited through the rear.

The sedan parked across the road.

The pickup went behind the clinic.

Two men approached wearing utility uniforms. One carried bolt cutters. The other held a department radio tuned to the municipal police frequency.

Ronan, hidden beside Silas on the neighboring roof, raised his phone. "Smile for the conspiracy album."

The men cut the clinic lock.

They found the crate on the examination table.

One opened it and lifted a bottle labeled EVELYN QUINN.

"Call Grant," he said. "We found her drop."

The county investigators stepped from behind the curtains.

"Keep holding that," one told him. "It photographs well."

The second man ran.

Ronan moved toward the roof ladder.

"No," Silas said.

"He's escaping."

"He has the department radio. Let him lead us to whoever is listening."

They watched him reach the blue pickup and tear out of the lot.

Bishop's tracking drone rose from behind the tree line.

The man with the medicine bottle stayed frozen inside the clinic while investigators photographed his gloves, radio, bolt cutters, and the cash envelope in his jacket.

The envelope carried the same bank band as the money found on the fake transport worker.

Briar entered the clinic wearing gloves and showed the captured man a printed photograph of the first attacker.

"Know him?"

"No."

His eyes moved to the photograph before his mouth finished the word.

"Know Grant Quinn?"

"Everybody knows Grant."

"That wasn't the question."

The man looked toward the door where Silas stood.

"I want protection."

"From whom?" Briar asked.

He nodded toward Silas. "Him."

Ronan laughed from behind the examination curtain. "He hasn't even threatened you. You're wasting excellent intimidation."

Silas remained in the doorway. "I'm not the man who sent you."

"You people are all the same."

"Then why did your employer warn you not to let the wolf smell the medicine?"

The sentence was a guess.

The man's face proved it was a good one.

Briar noticed. "What wolf?"

Silas did not answer.

The captive wet his lips. "Doctor said Blackwood could track the woman by scent. Said we had to move the bottle before he arrived."

"Which doctor?"

Silence.

Briar placed a photograph of Dr. Nolan Keene beside the cash envelope.

The man looked away.

Not a confession. Enough for the next warrant.

Silas understood something else.

Nolan Keene knew what he was.

The sedan driver was less patient. He started the engine, reversed into a county vehicle, and tried to exit over the curb. His front tire collapsed on the drainage ditch.

Ronan winced. "Municipal budget cuts are brutal."

By two, both vehicles had been seized. One man was in custody. The runner had unknowingly guided the drone toward an industrial strip owned by a shell company Miriam had already tied to Dr. Nolan Keene.

The medicine trap did more than mislead Grant.

It connected the stolen hospital list, the police radio, and Evelyn's false medical history to the same address.

Silas should have felt victory.

Instead, the wind shifted and carried the last trace of Evelyn from his shirt.

His wolf whined.

It was a low, wounded sound inside him, humiliating in its need.

Ronan pretended not to hear.

Then Maeve's encrypted message reached Silas's phone.

MEDICINE DELIVERED. BOTH SAFE. EVELYN ASKS IF YOU ARE COMING.

The pressure in his chest released so sharply he gripped the roof ledge.

He typed three answers and erased them.

YES sounded too eager.

SOON sounded too distant.

He settled on: IF SHE STILL WANTS ME THERE.

The reply came from Evelyn's number.

I ASKED, DIDN'T I?

Ronan read over his shoulder.

"That woman is going to eat you alive."

Silas put the phone away.

For the first time all afternoon, his wolf sounded pleased.