helps, to know that you’re happy.”
“Lupa.” For the first time, he managed to get her name out without it tangling on his tongue. “I’m sorry I failed you. And I know you want me to stay away. But I will always be your brother. If you ever need me, I will come.”
“I know you would.” Lupa turned her back on him. “But you can’t. Go. Be with your mate. And forget about me.”
He’d expected Darcy to be sound asleep. But a light was still on in their cabin, a solitary spot of brightness in the surrounding night.
A prickle of unease ran down his neck. He could think of no reason for her to be sitting up waiting for him. No reason…except one.
The box of syringes felt heavy as a boulder in his pocket, and about as obvious. He cast a brief glance around, wondering if he should hide it somewhere. But he couldn’t think of anywhere safe enough. The serum was too precious to risk, especially if it might be the last batch that he could obtain from his sister.
If Darcy knows, she knows. And in a way, it would be a relief not to have to skulk around anymore.
Squaring his shoulders—and hoping that his expression didn’t look too guilty—Fenrir entered the cabin. “Darcy?”
She’d been dozing, curled up on one of the armchairs in a nest of scattered papers. She jerked at his voice, making her computer slide from its precarious perch on her lap.
“Fenrir!” She grabbed at her laptop, catching it before it could fall. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for you to get back.”
He eyed her warily. She was rumpled and sleep-tousled, her red hair sticking up at wild angles. There was a smear of ink on her cheek, where she’d been using an open notebook as a pillow.
But her eyes shone behind her glasses, brighter than he’d ever seen. There was no trace of anger in her expression. She looked…triumphant.
There was only one thing that could explain the radiance in her face. And he would far rather that she’d caught him with a syringe in his hand and Lupa at his side.
Darcy was already chattering in excitement, apparently oblivious to his sick, frozen silence. “What you said earlier tonight, about being a wolf for twenty years? That convinced me to keep looking, even though Wystan didn’t think you could have been turned as a kid. And I was right. It was there all this time. I found it.“
His pulse pounded in his ears, but it couldn’t drown out her voice. He stood there, mute as an animal, unable to run, unable to even look away.
Darcy thrust her laptop toward him. A grainy picture of a boy’s face stared out from the screen; dark-haired, brown eyed, solemn and unsmiling.
A face that he knew.
“I found you.” Darcy beamed at him over the screen. “I know who you are.”
Chapter 32
“That’s Fenrir?” Blaise squinted from the laptop to the man himself. “Are you sure? Doesn’t look much like him.”
“Well, he was only ten in this picture,” Darcy replied. “And it was taken twenty years ago. Have to expect some changes.”
“There is some resemblance, if one looks past the beard,” Wystan said thoughtfully. “Look at the eyes, and the shape of his face. I could believe that this is the same individual.”
“Hardly conclusive, though.” Rory cocked an eyebrow at Darcy. “I take it you’ve got more evidence to prove your theory than just one badly scanned photo.”
“Oh yeah. This was only the first thread. Once I started pulling, the whole case unraveled.” Darcy hesitated, looking at Fenrir. “You sure it’s okay to reveal all of this to everyone? You don’t want me to tell you privately first?”
“Am sure.” Fenrir was expressionless, in a way that she hadn’t seen in a long time. It was like he’d retreated into himself, his face nothing but a mask. “Go ahead.”
Edith touched his tense arm. “We’re here for you, Fenrir. Whoever you were before, it won’t make any difference to us. We’re still your pack.”
The others murmured agreement. The whole squad was present, crowded around Darcy’s laptop. Even Buck was there, arms folded, leaning against the far wall of the kitchen.
Darcy still wasn’t sure that it was the best idea to spring her findings on Fenrir in front of an audience. She wished he’d sit down, at least. He was so rigid, he looked like he had a bad case of lockjaw.
“Okay then.” She turned back to her computer, though she kept careful watch on Fenrir out