The Mane Squeeze. Shelly Laurenston

up her backpack and stormed out of the office.

      Waiting until she knew Gwen was definitely gone, Blayne picked up the phone and dialed the in-building number. She waited until she got an answer. “Hey. It’s me. We have a problem.” A six-four, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound, big-haired problem.

      “So what else haven’t you told me?” Mitch snapped at his brother as they walked down a quiet side street about four blocks from the hotel.

      “Huh?”

      “Don’t ‘huh’ me. You didn’t tell me Gwenie had moved here. So what else have you been hiding from me?”

      “Hiding?”

      Mitch stopped and faced his brother. “All right, bruh. You better…”

      The brothers blinked at each other and then, slowly, they turned their heads to look down the street. There were seven wild dogs standing on the corner, facing them. Mitch recognized them. He’d had enough karaoke nights with them. They were all from Jess’s Pack.

      The brothers looked back at each other and then down the opposite end of the street—where there were more wild dogs from Jess’s Pack.

      But before either brother could say anything about it, Jess Ward was there, circling around them and glaring.

      “What are they doing?” Bren asked out of the corner of his mouth.

      “Trying to scare us,” Mitch replied.

      The brothers looked at each other again, and this time they laughed. They laughed and laughed until…

      “Long time no see, Mitch.”

      “Aaaaaah!” both brothers screamed before Mitch spun around and glared at the pretty little wolfdog smiling up at him. And to say he didn’t trust that smile was an understatement. He and Blayne had always had a strange relationship. She was like his second baby sister. He’d protected her, bailed her out of jail, and loved to make her laugh just like with Gwenie. But he also knew that Blayne was the kind of woman who, if he were writing a horror novel, would always be the one shoving Mitch down the stairs, cutting the brake line to his car, making it look like he’d killed one of his girlfriends, while in the story none of the other characters would believe it was her because she looked so damn innocent, but Mitch would know. And although he knew Blayne would probably never do those things, he also knew, in that deep-in-his-bones way he had that he had to watch Blayne Thorpe closer than he watched those enemies who had actively tried to kill him.

      “Blayne,” he said, watching her close—like always.

      She nodded at his brother. “Hi, Bren.”

      “Hi, Blayne. You startled us.”

      “What are you doing here?” Mitch asked her, the hair on the back of his neck rising up.

      “Came to see what the fuck you’re up to.”

      “What the hell does that mean?”

      “It means my best friend was upset and you upset her.”

      “I wouldn’t have upset her if she were home, in Philly. Where she belongs.”

      “She belongs right where she is, and who are you to say different?”

      “I’m her brother.”

      “Barely.”

      Mitch gasped. “Blaynie!”

      “Oh, don’t give me that Blaynie-shit, O’Neill! You’re going to back off my Gwenie and you’re going to do it right now!”

      “Or what?” He stepped into her, his anger making him ignore what eleven years of being around a wolfdog had taught him. “What are you going to do?”

      Blayne moved in closer until they were nose to neck. “Gwen is my best friend and I’m going to do what I can to ensure her happiness.”

      “And Gwen is my baby sister and I’m going to do what I can to ensure her safety. Guess who wins?”

      “The one not afraid to set you on fire?”

      “Okay, okay.” Bren stepped between them. “Everybody just calm down.”

      Blayne looked around Bren. “Don’t fuck with me on this, Mitch.”

      “Don’t get between me and my sister, Blayne. She’s going back to her Pride.”

      “Like hell she is.”

      “Both of you stop it,” Bren said again. “You both want the best for Gwen, isn’t that all that matters?”

      “Oh, shut up!” Mitch and Blayne yelled together.

      Bren stepped back. “Fuck you both then.”

      “Look, Unstable Girl,” Mitch said while poking Blayne in the forehead, “you know how far I’ll go to protect my baby sister. Don’t push me.”

      “And,” she replied calmly, “I’ll tell you like I told Frankie Caramelli in the tenth grade after he inappropriately touched me in gym class, and while I was bricking him up in the church wall after I bound and gagged him…don’t mess with me.”

      Then she punched him in the chest and walked off, the wild dogs disappearing with her.

      Rubbing his chest where she’d hit him, Mitch glowered blindly across the street. “She’s up to something. She’s trying to keep Gwen here for some reason.”

      “Maybe because they’re best friends and she’d rather Gwen be here than in Philly?”

      “Oh, please. Blayne Thorpe has never been that linear. Trust me, it’s not that simple.”

      “Uh…” Bren said, “maybe we should let this go anyway.”

      Shocked at his brother, Mitch demanded, “Why would we do that?”

      “Lots of reasons, but mostly because I don’t want to be bricked up in a wall like Frankie Caramelli.”

      Mitch rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a wuss! They found Caramelli after, like, eight hours. He was a little dehydrated, but he was alive.”