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a moment, as if processing that. Would a human believe memories could be taken? Then again, after all she'd seen, she was likely to believe anything.
    "Then you'll let us go?"
    He hesitated. "Yes." There was no sense in scaring her. But it was unlikely Xavier was going anywhere. Alive.
    "Let me see him. Please. "
    Ah, crud. Where is Kara? "Someone will be down soon . . ."
    "Please. "
    He'd given her hope that her male was alive, but no proof. And she clearly needed that proof. Hell. "All right. But . . ." I'm ugly as sin. "I'm not going to hurt you."
    He sighed and stepped out of the shadows, watching her carefully, surprised when she seemed almost . . . relieved. Well, hell, of course she would be. She'd probably feared he'd be a Daemon.
    The band of tension eased from his chest, and he strode to her cell and unlocked her door. She was out like a shot, brushing past him. Spying the male, she surged forward, clinging to the bars of the male's cage while Wulfe unlocked the cell door. The moment he swung it open, she bolted inside and fell to her knees beside the young man.
    "Xavier? Xave?" Her hand went to his throat, to his pulse. As she clearly felt what she was searching for, she sank back on her heels, gripping one of Xavier's hands, the tension flowing out of her.
    "Is he your mate?"
    She turned to meet Wulfe's gaze, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. But still no revulsion or fear crossed her features. "He's my brother."
    Had the other human male been her mate, then?
    As if reading his mind . . . or his expression . . . she shook her head. "My fiance wasn't there." Remembered horror swam through those soft gray eyes. "The others . . . Jill, Mary Rose. They're dead, aren't they?"
    He hated to add to her misery, but the knowledge lived in her eyes. There was no sense in lying to her. "Three died. Two females and a male. The remaining female is the one in that cage." He motioned across the block.
    Her head snapped around where she could see the one with the lip ring clearly, but her expression didn't change. She clearly felt no relief.
    "You don't know her."
    "I . . . yes, I know her, or at least I know who she is. Her name is Christy. I only met her today. Her boyfriend is Mary Rose's brother. Was." She swallowed hard. "He was."
    She'd handled all she could take, he could see it in the faint shaking of her shoulders and the way she was beginning to hunch over with pain. Though five days had passed, she thought it had all happened today.
    "What's your name?" he asked quietly.
    "Natalie." Her voice was thickening with tears. "Natalie Cash."
    "I'm sorry, Natalie."
    A fat tear dripped from her cheek. Then another.
    Wulfe gripped several bars of the cage as he watched her struggle with the grinding grief, and loss. He'd expected to want to run at the first sign of tears. Instead, he felt a compulsion to move forward, not back. To try to comfort her, which was a laugh. He wouldn't even know where to begin.
    Her crying grew worse, and she bent over, wracked with sobs.
    If only he'd been able to take her memories in Harpers Ferry, she wouldn't have to suffer like this.
    He straightened. Esmeria had said enough time might have already passed. He might be able to take them now.
    Easing his big frame into the cell, he squatted beside her, hoping he didn't scare her by getting too close.
    "Natalie?"
    She straightened, looking at him with tear-drenched eyes, her hand going to her face as she choked on another sob.
    "Look at me. Look into my eyes, and let's see if we can't make you forget."
    Her head jerked. "I don't . . ." The sobs wouldn't leave her, and she quit fighting both of them and looked into his eyes as he'd requested.
    He cupped her tear-damp jaw, his gaze dropping to the thick, grotesque gash across her cheekbone, then back up. Staring into gray eyes as deep as a storm-tossed sea, he attempted once more to cloud her mind and steal her memories, but as before, on the battlefield, nothing happened.
    With a