FOR HALF A SECOND, I doubted my cousin’s intentions. Then Malachi shot me a look so wounded that I knew he’d scented my misgivings in the air...or felt them through our vaguely present pack bond. And in response my good sense returned with a jolt.
Of course Malachi hadn’t driven us into this ambush on purpose. His job involved keeping werewolves hidden from human view, not delivering us into the hands of an agency that likely intended to put our wolves to use as weapons. Meanwhile, the men around us—although as dangerous-looking as any shifters—definitely bore no lupine skin.
And, now that I thought about the issue more rationally, I realized that Wolfie would have erected metaphorical (or possibly literal) roadblocks if he had any doubts about my cousin’s intentions. All evidence pointe
