Just so you understand that. I’m going to eat your insides.” Cyrus hadn’t seen Beaux Nelson since the third year on Lucian’s farm. Beaux hadn’t been back the next year, having not been invited to join them again. The fact had surprised Cyrus because Beaux had been a top werewolf, and Lucian had seemed to favor him in year three. And then nothing, not even a blip of anyone’s radar until the man’s pack had jumped their cars and dragged Cyrus and his people into a fight in the middle of the road. It had been bloody. He studied his pack members. Thirteen of them were in various states of capture and distress. Some of them needed a Healer, and Beaux had certainly not offered one. Betsy. By the moon, he wished he knew what had happened to her. He’d ordered her to run. Had she? She isn’t dead. He couldn’t allow himself to think about that. Sending her off had saved her life. Lake would find her, assuming his sister was functioning properly and not lost in her own needs.
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