Roger's wolf was, to say the least, unimpressed by Cora's decision to accompany Ella on her journey. He knew her heart was in the right place, and that she was strongly motivated by a desire to support her sister; however, he also knew that wasn't her only reason for going.

The obstinate human had been avoiding him since he comforted her in the medical tent, and he hadn't missed the way she'd been watching him before declaring her intentions. While Ella placated Isabel and answered their father's questions, Cora eyed Roger like a wary rabbit. She knew she wouldn't be able to resist him much longer, and Ella had provided the perfect opportunity to flee rather than confront her feelings.

Roger stalked out of the opulent guest suite in a minor rage, struggling to control his wolf. "Stop being so self-centered," he scolded. "Think how hard this must be for Dorn. Think how much it will comfort Ella to have her sister along." It's a family mission, and they're family. It's right that Cora should go.

"If that were the only reason, I wouldn't object," his wolf snarled. "But she's mine. She knows she's mine, and she's running away."

"She's been running since this all began; it's no surprise," Roger countered, taking deep breaths. This was the last thing he needed. He'd spent the morning searching for the spy who planted the bomb in Sinclair's convoy, and now he was completely distracted.

"I don't care if it's no surprise. She's being naughty, and she knows it!" his wolf sniped, grumbling as he imagined ways to teach her a lesson.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Cut it out," he muttered. "I don't need a distracted mind and an erection. Get your head in the game."

Shaking himself, Roger went to the palace security headquarters. He'd alerted the urban surveillance team to the spy's presence in the hidden territories as soon as they'd identified a likely suspect. Every day since, he'd checked for positive IDs using Vanara's superior facial recognition software. He hadn't expected to find the spy this way, but he had to exhaust every possibility.

It was therefore a considerable surprise when the guards monitoring security cameras rushed to meet him. Before he entered the office, a junior enforcer bounced up and down. "Sir, we have a positive ID!"

"You do?" Roger asked, aghast. "Where? When?"

"It just came through; I was on my way to find you!" the young wolf reported. "He was caught on camera in the Moonflower District, leaving an apartment building."

"Take me there," Roger ordered, gesturing for other guards to join them. "Now! If he's in the city, he's up to something."

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a modest building Roger recognized from high-definition photos the enforcer displayed on a tablet. There was no doubt this wolf was the same man who'd arrived on James's transport and disappeared. Roger's adrenaline surged as they neared their target.

"How will we know which apartment he's in?" the excited enforcer asked.

"We'll have to check with the landlord," Roger explained. "I don't want to alert the suspect."

Finding the building owner wasn't difficult. Soon they stood before apartment number 4, silently signaling before entering. The landlord confessed he'd taken a new tenant last week without background checks. They hoped the suspect was still inside. Roger smelled a fellow Moon Valley wolf through the door, barely containing his anger. He'd expected a rogue, not one of their own. Then again, Damon had friends in low places.

On Roger's signal, Gabriel's top enforcers burst through the door, some shifting into combat stances. Roger marched in on two legs, focusing on his target. The spy cowered in the corner, his paws still clutching a closed window. He'd clearly tried to escape but was too slow.

"What do you want?!" he cried, feigning ignorance. "What is this? I'm just a refugee."

"Shut your mouth," Roger snarled, advancing. "We know exactly who you are and what you've done." It wasn't entirely true, but interrogations were exercises in psychological manipulation, and Roger was willing to lie.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the wolf insisted, raising his hands.

"You're a spy for Emperor Damon," Roger countered. "You set the bomb that killed the Alpha's best men—his Beta. Your Beta. You committed treason."

"I swear I didn't!" the man repeated desperately.

"Then what is all this?" Roger turned, following an enforcer's voice. The guard stood over a cluttered worktable with a scale model of Gabriel's palace. He pulled back an accordion screen, revealing weapons and chemicals. It was obvious—the assassin had failed to kill Sinclair once, so he was trying again.

"It's not what it looks like," the spy squealed, frantic.

"It looks like you're planning a second attack," Roger assessed coldly. "What took you so long? All the increased security for the summit?" Suddenly, the overcautious security measures felt necessary, even imperative.

"Please, you have to believe me!" the assassin begged, still denying his guilt.

"The only question is whether you're planning this to get out of Damon's bad books, or because you haven't reported in yet," Roger analyzed, circling the room. "Does Damon know Sinclair still lives?"

"I don't—" the man began to lie.

"Enough!" Roger roared, using all his power. "There's no escaping this—we know you're guilty. Your only chance is to cooperate. Do you want to play ball and maybe salvage your worthless life, or do you want to die here and now?"

The spy blanched. "Damon doesn't know. If Sinclair lives, I don't get paid. I'm not reporting back until the job is done."

"How many of you are there?" Roger asked sharply.

"As far as I know, only me. But Damon wouldn't tell me if there were others, would he?" the spy replied, eyes flitting nervously.

"How did you get here?" Roger asked, testing the spy's honesty.

"I snuck in on one of your refugee transports," he confessed. "It wasn't hard."

"Did Damon direct you to the transports, or did you find them yourself?" Roger pressed, needing to know the enemy's knowledge of their operations.

"Damon directed me, but I was probably the last spy who got through before he shifted forces to meet the humans," the wolf explained.

Roger didn't trust this, but he didn't reveal his doubt. "Join us, turn on Damon, and I'll double whatever he paid you."

"Why would you do that?" the spy demanded suspiciously.

"Because we need every advantage over Damon—and you should agree because he's going to lose this war. You must have seen how badly he's floundering," Roger persuaded, repeating his offer. "Call your boss and tell him Sinclair is dead, and I'll double your fee."

"How do I know you won't kill me afterward?" the assassin asked shrewdly.

"You don't, but you can be sure I'll kill you now if you don't," Roger threatened.

The spy hesitated. He was smart enough to know he was a dead man, but hope was powerful. Only a fool would refuse a lifeline, however unlikely.

Roger and the enforcers watched as the traitor called the emperor. A moment later, they heard Damon's voice. "Is it done?"

"It's done," the spy lied, trembling.

"Then your payment will be sent before the day's end," Damon announced. "Stay available. I may need you again."

"Yes, sir," the spy hung up, looking anxiously at Roger.

The Beta confiscated his phone, verifying the call. "Very good," he praised, his wolf salivating. "But any wolf loyal only to the highest bidder cannot be trusted." He stalked forward, baring his fangs. "Any last words?"