Page 56 of What a Wolf Demands

He shook his head. “Not that I can tell.” They reached the causeway that led directly to Bon Rêve. From what he knew about the area, rising water had flooded the elevated roadway more than once in recent years. Local authorities kept repairing it, but they’d started to pressure the town’s residents to relocate. He could just imagine what the wolves of Bon Rêve thought of that idea. The Louisiana pack was the most insular group in the country. Unlike other wolves, they rarely married outside their home territory. The loup-garou were born, raised, and buried in Bon Rêve—and they didn’t want easy access to the outside world.

He stole a glance at Lily. It had to be a difficult place to be a latent.

“What’s your plan for saving Bart?” she asked.

He focused on the road—an unnerving strip of pavement suspended over swampy water. “I don’t have one.”

Her shocked silence seemed to fill the SUV. “They’re holding Bart prisoner. You can’t just march up to Levesque’s place and ask them to hand him over.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

“Then what—”

“The pack headquarters is an old plantation house, yes?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Any trees or vegetation around it?”

Her reply was hesitant, like she was trying to figure out where he was going with this. “Some oak trees lining the drive. Lots of cypress in the swamps.”

“Anything else? What about the perimeter?”

She was quiet a moment. Then she spoke in a low, flat voice. “You’re going to try sneaking into the house.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough to meet her gaze. “If you have a better idea, tell me now.”

“I don’t.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do.”

“I thought this was a we kind of thing.”

Now he really looked at her. “Make no mistake, Ms. Agincourt. This is most definitely not a we thing. You’ll stay in the car.”

Defiance flashed in her eyes. “I can help.”

“No, you can’t.” He looked at the road.

She fell silent, but he knew it wasn’t for long. He could almost feel her sifting through arguments and potential angles. She drew in a breath. “Prado—”

“I need you to keep the car ready. In case we need to make a quick getaway.” Which was likely, given the overwhelmingly shitty odds they were facing.

“You need me with you.” A hint of triumph—and what might have been smugness—entered her tone. “I know a back way into the house. I can show you.”

The causeway ended, the road changing from smooth black to weathered gray. He shot her another pointed look. “You can tell me.”

She drew in a breath. “Prado—”

“Remember your promise, Ms. Agincourt. You said you’d obey my orders.”

Her stare was like daggers. “Are you giving me an order?”

“Absolutely.”

She studied him a moment, then leaned back in her seat and folded her arms.

He suppressed a sigh. Clearly, their tentative truce was at an end. Which was fine if that’s what it took to keep her safe. He didn’t know what he was walking into, and he couldn’t risk her tagging along. If she’d been a full-fledged werewolf, maybe he would have considered it. He’d never tell her as much, but her being a latent made her more of a liability than an asset.

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