confusion, in moments, all four of the werewives were on their feet, growling and snarling in rage. The video quality was far from that of a high-definition movie, and the playback of the audio was choppy, but there was no mistaking Vera, Cassandra, Alexis, or Heather’s faces taken from some nearby vantage point in the trees—or their shifts in the woods outside of Alexis’s home into werewolves.
They all watched, stunned, silent, as their banter was captured on film, as was their undressing and their change into their inner beasts. Tiffany didn’t have to tell them what a danger this video posed to them. They knew. To a one, they knew that they could be connected to their husbands, some of the richest and most influential businessmen in the state—if not the country—and that it could bring the livelihoods of their families and fellow pack members crashing down around them if it ever went public. Cassandra in particular went cold, considering her husband, who was running for office next term, would likely flay her and the other werewives alive if he ever caught wind of the existence of that video.
After the wolves had rushed off into the woods to play, it showed close-ups of the clothing and jewelry left behind by the women, then faded to black. As soon as it ended, Tiffany snapped the netbook shut and tucked it back in her bag, ignoring the bared fangs, the glowing eyes, the twitching claws, and the deep rumbles emanating from their chests. Crossing her legs and folding her hands primly in her lap, she raised her chin and regarded Cassandra expectantly.
Heather was the one who spoke first, her voice deep and guttural as she fought to get a handle on her rage.
“How could you? That isn’t fair, Tiffany! Why would you do such a terrible thing?”
Tiffany was startled into a laugh, though there was nothing funny about the situation. “Fair? You call this fair? Heather, you’re the only one of the Diamondfangs who has listened to me from the start. I’ve got nothing against you. The rest of you need to listen to me, this time, and believe me when I say that I don’t intend to cause you any harm unless you decide against honoring my request. All I wanted when I came here was to find a home in this pack. Nothing has changed. File the papers, do what you need to do to initiate me, and that video will disappear.”
Alexis, trembling and white in the face, raised a clawed finger that still sparkled with the crumbled remains of her Gold Pearl nail polish. “You have no right to demand anything from us. Videos and pictures can be doctored. You have no way of proving that it’s really us.”
“That’s right.” Cassandra, who had been too stunned to react immediately, showed her fangs in a fierce and humorless grin. “You can’t possibly believe we’d give you what you want or let you walk away from this. Bravo for the attempt—but there’s no way you could ever prove to anyone that your film is real.”
Tiffany smiled slyly, reaching for her messenger bag again. “That’s why I saved some other evidence.”
Alarmed, the four girls watched with slack jaws as she withdrew a glittering diamond tennis bracelet, dangling with a “VK” charm—Vera’s missing jewelry, taken the same night Tiffany recorded them in the woods after the party.
One that had been clearly visible mixed in with the clothing at the end of the video.
The other girls shot Vera a look. She was pale, her fists clenched so tightly that spots of blood were pooling under her fingernails.
“You little thief! How dare you!”
Tiffany smirked. “Don’t get any ideas. This isn’t the only thing I took—just the most obvious. Travis told me how often you forgot and left jewelry behind when you went hunting with the pack—or stayed the night at his place. Tsk, Vera. I doubt your husband would approve.”
Vera’s reaction was immediate and intense. With an enraged howl, she leapt toward Tiffany, closing the distance between them with supernatural speed, hands arched into claws.
Though Cassandra and Heather moved to stop her, Tiffany was on her feet in no time, ducking behind furniture and flicking her wrists to dislodge daggers from sheathes hidden under the cuffs of her Marc Jacobs peasant blouse.
Everyone froze at the unmistakable gleam of silver.
“Vera, sit down!”
Cassandra’s voice, usually smooth and sure, cracked on a high note. Aside from the unbelievable fuck up of leaving evidence of her shift behind, she