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The following month, she’d shown up at the WDL branch for the drop-in clinic, just as she would have if they’d driven together, as they had countless times before. She’d not been surprised by Grayson’s absence — he had more important things to address in the main office now, so instead, she’d taken advantage of the new faces and learned all she could about his father’s involvement with the organization.

There was another group, she discovered, with which the family was more directly involved. A halfway house, the historic Hemming family home having been donated to the cause the instant Jack had been left control of it. The following month, as she was given the tour of the historic mansion in Cambric Creek’s Oldetowne neighborhood as a new volunteer, she’d felt the weight of eyes on her, the man himself standing in the second landing, his wide mouth turned in a knowing smirk.

“We’ve missed seeing you,” he told her sincerely, once they’d reached the second floor and the volunteer coordinator realized she was being momentarily dismissed. “I hope you’ve not been working too hard.”

She wondered what he’d told his parents, if he’d told them anything.

“It’s always crazy, you know how that goes. I keep energy bars in my desk and cross my fingers they won’t be di

He knew she was lying; she could tell without question. He knew she was lying, and more than that

— he knew that she knew he could see through her words. His lips turned up again, nodding, agreeing to keep the charade in place.

“This group already existed, but they weren’t terribly well-funded, not like the WDL. They have national funding. This is . . . well, it’s become a bit of a pet project of mine.”

The house was able to support fifteen residents at a time. Young women mostly, some traveling with small children, who had fled their lives in search of new ones, and the house provided them a safe haven to gather their bearings and get on their feet, with the aid of twenty-four-hour security and an undisclosed address.

“It’s very admirable work, Jack.” She hoped he heard the sincerity in her voice. She was of the quiet opinion that nearly everything wrong with the wolf she loved was the direct fault of the wolf in front of her, but he was charismatic as hell, and she’d always had a competency kink.

“Grayson’s mother is from a pack. Did he ever tell you that?”

His unexpected words brought her up short.

“No, he-he hadn’t.” People remake themselves all the time. She was reminded of that conversation in his fishbowl office over the pens. You’re never better or worse than the person you are each day.

“I suspected not; none of them ever want to mention it. Always too worried about besmirching her honor. She wasn’t permitted to work off her pack grounds, wasn’t able to go to school. When we met, she was already engaged. She hasn’t seen or spoken to her family since the night she left with me. I

don’t have anything against arranged marriages, plenty of cultures use them, both human and non-human, but that’s not what’s happening in these packs.”

“It’s trafficking,” she agreed. “They’re moving underage girls across state lines for the express purpose of being pack breeders.”

“We have a fourteen-year-old arriving today. That’s the only reason we’re here; the director wanted to review the plan one final time. She was meant to leave this week to go to her new pack and meet the man she was marrying. Instead, her mother put her on a bus with a backpack of food and a number on our volunteer network. Goodbye and good luck. We’re not set up for minors, and I feel the state will need to be involved. Gray is currently losing his mind over this, keeps reminding me he’s a civil litigator, not a criminal attorney, which he insists I’m going to need if we let her step over the threshold. It’s a shame there’s no one at home to calm him down.”

A flush moved up her neck. She imagined the tight set of his shoulders, could almost hear the hard bark of his courtroom voice, the same one he used in the office when things were down to the wire.

She knew adrenaline would keep him going until this issue was settled and his father and the organization were out of hot water, and the resultant brain chemical crash would likely land him in the hospital for an overnight stay.

“We’ll see about that.”

Jack Hemming graced her with a brilliant smile, and Vanessa thought she probably would have been willing to leave her entire family for him as well.

“Of course. Well, I should let you get back to your tour . . . I have a soft spot for fighters, Vanessa.

Good luck with your work here.”

She didn’t know how his father conveyed the casual news that he’d seen her, but she knew that if they all claimed their younger brother Lowell was malicious and spiteful, he’d picked up the traits honestly. She could almost hear Grayson’s a

She decided to let him direct her plan of attack, using his own courtroom methodology — they directed the ships, not the wind and current. When he’d arrived late, giving her that familiar cutting smile, she’d known he’d come with his court game face and adjusted her plan accordingly, keeping things light and superficial, ignoring his tan.

“My brother mentioned he saw you last week.”

“Your brother?” She looked up sharply from her salad, eyebrows drawing together.

“Jackson. Said you were at the foundation house. I was treated to a fifteen-minute duet between him and my father on what good work the staff does there and how excited they are to have you providing education to the residents.”

That’s the only reason we’re here, the director wanted to go over the plan one final time. She realized Jackson must have been there with his father; was likely still in the office when she and Jack had their little tête-à-tête. Perfect.

“That’s nice to hear. I’ll be glad to see a familiar face occasionally when I’m there.” She watched as his jaw clenched and his hand tightened around his wine glass. “How are you settling in? Easy transition?”

She expected him to bluster. She was well acquainted with his courtroom confidence and thoughtless self-assurance. He believed himself to be the smartest person in the room in any place he occupied. She was not expecting him to deflate visibly before her eyes. His shoulders slumped a fraction, the hard breath he blew out seeming to take his swagger with it.

“I’m so tired,” he admitted with a weary laugh. “I haven’t been this fucking tired since—”

“Since before you were a partner in your own firm, sitting in your big air-conditioned office with an army of underlings to do the heavy lifting.”

She watched him pick up the rocks glass beside his water goblet, swirling the contents before draining it with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that sums it up.”

Vanessa swallowed, preparing her thoughts before opening her mouth, but Grayson continued with more unexpected confidences.

“Someone from the national board came in this week. Do you know what they had the audacity to tell me? It was one of those ‘tell me I got this job I didn’t really want in the first place because of nepotism without telling me’ conversations. He said it was too bad I didn’t have more experience in public practice; that’s what my predecessor came on board with. A shame I hadn’t worked in the DA’s office before, or — wait for it — that I didn’t have any experience as a public defender.”

Her laughter was unrestrained, chiming like a bell across the dining room, and the troll at the table beside them turned his head with a cocked eyebrow in her direction.