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we should do? Treat all this, our marriage, our children”—she caught herself with a gasp and corrected herself, saying—“our child, as a job?”
    He looked at her, stoic and aloof. For a long minute he watched her, letting her cry quietly. “You do know survival of the fittest doesn’t mean survival of the strongest or the fastest—the ones who survive and thrive are the ones who adapt . You need to adapt to our special circumstances.” He turned to Dr. Jones. “I apologize for my wife, Doctor. She’s emotionally distraught over the loss of our baby. We both are aware that Derek is a prize asset, very trainable and potentially the first in our line.”
    “So you will both get back on the job shortly,” Dr. Jones confirmed. “And adapt to your circumstances.”
    “Of course.”
    Derek’s mother just hung her head and we stepped back, the images fading away and leaving me in the dark of the old shed, colder than ever, one thought in my head: adapt to survive.
    Alexi
    “Are you sure I can’t help?” Amy dogged my steps, following me from room to room in the Queen Anne as I opened closets and pulled out gun and knife cases and other things that had become tools of my rather unsavory trade. My time with the black market had served me well. By being one of the bad guys so frequently, I knew how to handle the same sort of people when I had to switch my black hat for a white one.
    “Amy,” I finally said, setting one case on the foot of my bed and popping the latches so it sprung open. “If you want to help, assemble that.” I pointed to the gleaming Glock.
    She stared at me.
    “Then stay out of my way,” I added, grabbing the gun and slamming it together before I opened the Baggie containing the scrap of an old T-shirt still damp with gun oil and wiped down the gun’s muzzle.
    She crossed her arms, and the stare became a glare. “I just want to help get Jessie back.”
    “I know. But right now there is nothing you can do but stay out from underfoot and wait for our return.” I handed the Glock to Cat. “Unless.”
    “Unless what?” Amy asked, stepping closer.
    “Do you pray?”
    She swallowed. “Occasionally” was all she committed to, finding something fascinating about the floor nearby rather than keeping her eyes on mine.
    “Excellent. Now would be a wonderful time to reconnect with your god. Pray for us.” I brushed past her, Cat close behind, Max still in the dining room with Pietr, laying plans.
    “You must not hesitate if the moment comes,” Max was saying.
    “I have not recently been known for my mercy,” Pietr snapped at his brother. “Dmitri believes—”
    “ Da ,” I interjected. “Dmitri believes you killed those people at his orders. But we know you got them out. You were not a murderer—you were their salvation. The premeditation of murder is more than you might be up to.”
    “And,” Cat added, “if Amy is correct and Dmitri is back in the picture…”
    “There will be additional trouble and perhaps a necessity to premeditate such a severe act. Hesitation may cost us in lives. He will surely have the proper bullets.”
    “And with only one wolf…,” Amy whispered, looking at Max pointedly.
    “I will be careful,” he assured her. “I have much to return to. But, Pietr, if Marlaena…”
    “I am prepared to kill her,” he muttered.
    Something heavy as a stone sank into the pit of my stomach. He said the words, but his tone was wrong—his body language soft and lacking determination. He was not being honest with us about something. Or perhaps not being honest with himself.
    Perhaps he did not even know what it was.…
    I squinted at him, examining his posture. Something was wrong beyond the fact he was still a werewolf—minus the wolf.
    “We need to go,” Cat said from the door, her coat, hat, and gloves on once more. She looked more the part of a fashion plate than someone on a rescue mission.
    “ Da . We must.”
    We gathered the last odds and ends that