Chapter 5
I threw the senator's daughter at him.
Not hard. Bianca had spent her entire childhood around politicians, so she understood the strategic value of becoming someone else's problem. She drove one crystal heel into the man's foot while I slammed the medical case shut on his hand.
Mrs. Bellini struck the second wolf across the face with her umbrella.
"I survived Mussolini's leftovers."
Her control slipped.
"You are not frightening."
"She was born in 1948."
I told him.
"Do not correct her. I tried once."
Gianna hit the fire alarm. Steel shutters dropped between the fitting rooms, dividing the atelier into narrow lanes filled with mirrors and hanging silk.
The wolves shifted halfway. Claws split through human nails. Their eyes flashed yellow.
Mine did not.
That bothered me more than the syringes.
I ripped a rack of gowns sideways. Metal crashed into the first attacker, tangling him in thirty yards of couture. He tore through organza while I pulled Bianca behind the cutting table.
"Back stairs."
Gianna ordered.
"Take them."
I kept my voice steady.
"I will follow."
"That is what doomed women say in bad movies."
"Then be grateful I dress better."
The second wolf lunged. I ducked beneath his arm and drove my shears through his coat sleeve into the wooden pattern board. The blade trapped him for one second.
It was enough.
Bianca reached the back stairs, then turned and hurled one of her crystal heels. It struck the alarm sensor, releasing the magnetic locks on the fitting-room doors. Six models poured out carrying steamers, metal rulers, and the fury of women whose show had been interrupted.
The attacker had expected one frightened designer. He had not planned for an atelier.
Gianna sprayed him in the face with a silver-flecked fabric sealant that no fashion house legally admitted owning. He roared and stumbled back.
A shot cracked through the front window.
The first attacker dropped.
Silence followed. Even the alarm seemed to shrink from it.
A man stepped through the broken glass with a pistol held low. He had black hair, pale gray eyes, and a scar cutting through one eyebrow. His scent struck my pendant like a hammer.
The wolf inside me woke so violently that my knees almost failed.
"Mira."
His voice stayed level.
"People who know my name usually send flowers before shooting up my workplace."
"Lucian Valenti."
The surname landed harder than the gunshot.
"That is unfortunate."
I kept my voice steady.
"I already have enough relatives."
The trapped attacker tore free. Lucian fired again, hitting the wall beside his head.
"Alive."
Lucian's warning settled between us.
"I need to know who sent you."
The wolf smiled through bleeding teeth.
"Ronan knows what she is now."
He bit down. His body convulsed before Lucian could reach him.
The other attacker was already dead.
Gianna shut off the alarm. Mrs. Bellini stared at the bodies, then at me.
"Your tall friend will be angry."
Her voice stayed level.
"He can schedule it."
Lucian crouched beside the medical case and removed a tablet. On its screen was a hospital appointment booked under my full legal name.
POSTMORTEM BLOODLINE CONFIRMATION: MIRA VALENTI.
The appointment was tomorrow in New York.
The record included my blood type, childhood vaccinations, and the serial number of the pendant Donati had fastened around my neck before I could remember him doing it. Whoever created the appointment had access to both human medical systems and sealed wolf archives.
This was not a killer improvising in an alley. It was an institution preparing a clean place to put my body.
"They declared you dead so they could test your blood without your consent."
Lucian's voice stayed level.
"Once the result enters the Council registry, every extremist pack in the country will know where to find you."
"What result?"
He looked at the silver pendant at my throat.
"The one your father murdered people to hide."
My phone rang in the ruined atelier.
Kaelen's name filled the screen for the first time in three years.
Lucian glanced at it.
"Answer him."
"I would rather answer the dead man. He has been less disappointing."
The phone rang again, relentless and familiar.