POV: Silas

The first police cruiser arrived without an ambulance.

The second brought no rescue equipment.

The third carried four officers who already knew Evelyn was guilty.

Silas held her against his chest while Sergeant Mercer called attempted murder a domestic medical emergency.

Rain ran off Evelyn's hair and down Silas's wrist. She was too cold. Her heartbeat skipped every fourth beat. Each shallow breath filled his lungs with the scent of blood, fear, and the bond his wolf wanted to seize before she could disappear.

He kept his teeth behind his lips.

He kept his hands gentle.

"My husband drove the car through the guardrail," Evelyn said. "Then he put my hand on the wheel. He aimed his service weapon at me and fired at our daughter when she escaped."

Grant Quinn looked toward the helmet cameras.

That single movement convicted him more thoroughly than rage would have.

An innocent man would have looked at his wife.

A guilty one looked for the record.

"Turn those off," Grant ordered.

No Reaper moved.

Mercer placed himself between Grant and the cameras. "Recording an active police scene may constitute obstruction."

"Then arrest twenty of us," Ronan said.

Above them, engines started one by one.

Not leaving.

Reminding the officers how many witnesses stood on the ridge.

Evelyn shivered against Silas. Her grip on his shirt had weakened.

This argument was costing blood she did not have.

"Where is the ambulance?" Silas asked.

Mercer's gaze hardened. "Put Mrs. Quinn down."

"Where is the ambulance?"

"Medical is on the way."

Ronan touched the receiver in his ear. "County dispatch has no call from this department. Maeve reached Pine Hollow EMS directly. Six minutes out."

Evelyn closed her eyes.

"Of course," she whispered.

Silas heard the resignation in it. This had happened before in smaller ways. Calls that vanished. Help that never arrived. Men who protected Grant by making delay look accidental.

His wolf struck the cage of his ribs again.

Kill them.

Silas looked at Sophie on the ridge.

The child watched from inside his leather cut, both hands gripping Maeve's shoulders.

Not here.

"Officer Quinn surrendered his weapon after aiming it at an injured woman," Silas said. "Your sergeant failed to request medical support. Every statement and movement is being preserved on independent cameras. Pine Hollow EMS will take Evelyn and Sophie outside your jurisdiction."

Grant stepped forward. "My daughter isn't going anywhere with criminals."

Sophie heard him.

Her body folded behind Maeve's shoulder.

Silas felt Evelyn try to turn in his arms.

"Sophie."

"She can see you," he said. "Save your strength."

"Don't tell me what to do with my daughter."

The words were weak, but the challenge was not.

Silas accepted the correction.

"You're right. Tell me what you need."

Her eyes opened.

For a moment, pain gave way to surprise.

"Bring her closer. But keep Grant away."

Silas nodded to Maeve.

Grant moved at the same time.

He climbed two steps toward the ridge and held out both hands. "Sophie, come to Daddy. Mommy's sick again."

The child stared down at him.

"Come on, princess."

Her mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Grant softened his face. Silas had seen predators do the same before entering a chicken yard: lower the head, narrow the body, make danger appear smaller.

"You know Daddy didn't hurt you."

Sophie began to shake.

Maeve did not prompt her or turn her away. She simply held the child where Evelyn had asked.

Grant climbed another step.

"No Daddy," Sophie whispered.

He stopped.

"You're confused."

"No Daddy."

"Sophie—"

"NO DADDY!"

The scream tore through the mountain.

Birds exploded from the trees. One officer flinched. Another looked at Grant for the first time instead of at the bikers.

Sophie pointed at him with one trembling hand.

"Daddy make fall. Daddy boom. Mommy bleeding."

Then she buried her face against Maeve and sobbed.

Grant's public mask cracked.

"Shut her up."

Every helmet camera captured it.

So did the body camera on the woman standing behind Mercer.

Silas had noticed her arrive last. Brown skin, dark braid, patrol jacket left open despite the rain. Her badge read TESSA WARD. Unlike the others, she had activated her camera before descending the slope.

Her hand moved away from the microphone at her shoulder.

"Deputy Chief," she said carefully, "did you discharge your service weapon after your daughter left the vehicle?"

Grant turned on her. "Not now, Ward."

"Was the weapon discharged?"

"I fired into the air to guide her back to the scene."

"You told dispatch your weapon was lost during the crash."

Mercer looked at her. "Officer Ward."