Sentinels: Kodiak Chained. Doranna Durgin

embrace him if he comes up with something they can use, has branded him rogue. Because this bunker may not be a primary installation, but it was clearly in active use at the time of its discovery. And because—”

      “Maks said so,” Jet said, an atypical insertion from her spot near the window, one uttered with complete confidence in the Siberian tiger who had helped free her from Gausto six months earlier.

      “If anyone knows Forakkes, it’s Maks,” Nick finished, a flash of fury rising to the surface so quickly that Ruger blinked—only to find it gone again. A little reminder of what lay beneath their consul’s calm exterior.

      It wasn’t enough to deter Ruger from the pending argument between them—but it was enough to keep him quiet for now. Especially since he understood Nick’s wrath all too well—he’d read the material in this folder from front to back already; he knew Forakkes had been active in the Core for a startling number of years.

      A decade and more ago, he’d been trying to breed Sentinels for his own purposes. Young Maks had survived escape from that situation. His mother had not.

      Yes, Maks knew Forakkes. But Maks was still sorting himself out up there in the White Mountains with Katie Rae Maddox. He would no doubt join Ruger there, but only briefly.

      Sandy accepted the assurances matter-of-factly. “Okay, then,” she said. “He’s still there. Then we’ll find him.”

      “And don’t forget Katie’s visions,” Ian said. “I know they’re vague, but her sense of foreboding goes far deeper than the local situation.”

      “Second that,” Annorah said. “She’s got a reputation as a lightweight. Don’t you believe it. If you took the form of a little deer, would you want to attract the attention of the rest of us?”

      “Exactly so,” Nick agreed. “She fooled me for years. We’ll let you know if anything else comes through for her, but until then, keep her report in mind—and don’t get cocky.”

      “Cool,” Ian said, hitting a quick beat with his pencil. “Well, this has been uplifting, but I’ve got a silent amulet to secure before we go. And oh—by the way, watch out for those, too. If you’re used to sensing the stink of the things, the new silent ones will take you by surprise.”

      Mariska frowned at her folder, quiet as she absorbed the nuances of the team. She hadn’t truly understood the significance of this situation, that was clear enough. And that—there on her face, the faint frown of her brow and the worry in her eyes—that was doubt. Self-doubt.

      It pissed Ruger off that he could read her so well.

      “That’s it,” Nick said, as if he didn’t see it. “Head down below and get geared up; I want you in Pine Bluff by midafternoon.”

      “Halfway there,” Ian said, on his feet and reaching for the door handle while the rest of them still shifted in their chairs—Sandy reached for a last swallow of her tea, Annorah stretched, and Ruger…

      Ruger just glowered.

      Mariska gathered her folder and stood, tucked together in a tidy button-down blouse with the wood buttons and natural material that meant it was Sentinel kosher—it would follow her if she took the bear, absorbed by the earth magic until she needed it again. Her slacks held the wrinkle of natural cotton; Ruger would bet she wore the moccasins he’d seen the previous night. Mariska Bear came prepared.

      And she’d known what she was doing when she pried her way onto this team. She’d known what she was doing to him.

      She’d taken away the one thing he truly had left to give them.

      She met his current glower with uncertain honesty—with a note of pleading. “Ruger—”

      He wanted to growl. He didn’t. He leaned back in the chair, one arm hooked over the back of it, his legs sprawling into the space left by Ian’s departure.

      “Ruger—” Mariska said again, dismay in those big dark eyes and on that wide mouth.

      Ruger only shook his head. “Just one night,” he said softly—knowing the others would hear, and not caring.

      Mariska cared. The woodsy brown tones of her skin went a shade paler. She pulled her folder off the table and left, moving with a stiffness that hadn’t been the least bit apparent any of the times they’d made love the night before.

      Just one night.

      But it would never be enough.

      “Ruger. You wanted to talk to me?”

      Of course Nick knew what was coming. And Jet, too; she gave them a glance over her as she headed out the door, leaving Ruger alone in the room with Nick.

      So Ruger didn’t mince words. “No,” he said. “I don’t need any damned babysitter. Especially not one I can’t trust.”

      “I trust her,” Nick pointed out.

      Ruger stood, going from sprawled to upright and tense, his anger hitting the surface faster than he’d ever expected. “This isn’t about whether I need help—I damned well don’t. This is her bid for something bigger than Western Brevis has given her. That’s not the right reason!”

      “Doesn’t mean she can’t do the job.” Nick didn’t react as Ruger reached the desk, looming tall; he rocked back in his pricey office chair, still relaxed—except Ruger knew him well enough to see the wolf bloom to life behind those pale green eyes.

      “It does if I won’t work with her,” Ruger said. “She lied to me. She used me.”

      “Is that what this is about?” Nick said, and now his voice was soft enough for Ruger to take notice. “Your pride?”

      A rumble of anger pushed at his chest; Ruger ground his teeth, fighting to keep it to himself. “It’s about,” he said distinctly, “the fact that I don’t trust her.”

      “Then you have a problem,” Nick said. Oh, yeah. Far too relaxed in that desk chair, the desk between them and the dual monitors off to the side, the rest of the surface populated with neat paperwork. But even as Ruger struggled with anger, Nick sighed. “If I didn’t think you could take care of yourself, you wouldn’t be going at all. But she made some good points when she came to me yesterday morning. You need to be able to concentrate on what you’re doing—to go deeper than is possible if you’re watching your own back, and to work faster. There’s too much at stake for us to take chances—we’ve lost too much already.”

      Exactly. They were shorthanded; they were licking their wounds. They needed every active field agent they could get—and that meant not wasting extra manpower on an assignment with which Ruger didn’t need help—didn’t want help.

      Didn’t want the help of a woman who had already thrown away the heart he’d so rarely offered.

      “I don’t need her there,” he growled at Nick. “I don’t want her there. And no good will come of having her there.”

      Nick inclined his head. “She’s yours,” he said. “Make the best of it.”

      Once, Ciobaka had been a dog—immersed in the now of being canine, his world full of scents and natural cinders crunching under feral paws.

      Now he was dog, and yet more. He saw more, heard more, comprehended more… but understood nothing.

      He sat in the cage that had once easily held him, but now required lock and key. The cage sat in a vast and unnatural underground space, the ceiling arching overhead and sly sky tubes bringing in enhanced sunlight to turn darkness into an illuminated artificial cave. At night there were fake lights, driven by a thing called solar power.

      Human things surrounded him—a stack of crates and cages, a dissection table, a long wall full of things electrical and whirring. To the far end, the men slept in cots; beside that section, Ehwoord had his own den. There