CHAPTER TWO

Bran roared with rage, throwing his phone across the room where it shattered into dust. The Lord of the Night had taken Mercy – may have mortally wounded her in the process. No one knew where she had been taken or how hurt she was. No one knew how to get her back to safety. Man and beast went wild, smashing everything in their path.

A wave of calm hit Bran like a tsunami. Anna, he thought as he fell onto his hands and knees. He stared at the floor, panting, struggling for some semblance of control.

Mercy! Pain lanced through him, rage and fear fought for control over him. Mercy!

"Da," his son's voice sounded a touch impatient, allowing Bran to know how truly worried Charles was feeling. "What do you want to do? Who do you want to send to retrieve her?"

Bran closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Calm, he thought. Going berserk, acting rashly and with brute force was only going to get Mercy killed. Or killed sooner, the wolf whispered to him. Not helping, Bran barked in return. Somehow, snapping at his wolf allowed Bran to regain control of himself.

He slowly rose to his feet and focused on what was important. Mercy. He looked over at his son and sighed. Reality sucks, Bran thought, channeling a touch of Mercy. It sounded like something she would say.

"We can't interfere – you especially can't interfere."

Charles made an impatient noise. "Then send someone else – Asil" (he flinched as he said the old wolf's name, immediately recognizing the foolishness of such a suggestion) "Someone," he restated. "You can't seriously expect us to leave her in the hands of that bloodsucker and do nothing."

Bran turned away from Charles. He placed his hands on the counter and bent his head. "If we go rushing in," he growled, "If we act rashly. We will lose her."

He felt Anna place a tentative hand on his shoulder. Dear Anna. Such a gift. He reached around and grabbed her hand fiercely, allowing her presence to center him. Touching her, he could think clearly again. He let go of her hand, giving it one last squeeze of thanks, and then turned around to face his son.

"We don't have enough information – why did he take her? What does he want? How badly is she urt? What does he expect for her return?"

When Charles made a derisive sound, Bran held up his hand to keep his son's comments at bay.

"Yes, we could go to the Lord of the Night, destroy him – take back what is ours and make sure no one ever considers harming her again." Bran had to pause to clamp down on the beast who thought that idea was perfect. After a moment of struggle, Bran continued, "But Bonarata serves a purpose. If we eliminate him – and that is still a possibility, a possibility I would like to avoid – his extermination will leave a huge hole that will create ripples throughout Europe for decades. Instability creates uncertainty. We have enough uncertainty with everything that is happening with the fae."

"So we do nothing?" Charles managed to sound appalled without changing the inflection of his voice.

"We wait. We wait to see what Adam finds out from that bitch who used to serve Bonarata. We wait to see where we can best be utilized." Bran smiled and shook his head. "And knowing Mercy, by the time we finish running around in circles trying to save her, she'll have saved herself, burned his seethe to the ground and be on a plane headed home."

Anna laughed, "At the very least, she'll make him regret taking her in the first place."

The laughter from Charles and Bran was a little forced but they both wanted to believe. She was the daughter of Coyote, after all.

Sobering, Bran looked at his son. "Regardless of where she is, you cannot be part of the rescue effort, Charles. Bonarata knows you – and he will expect you to come. Once you are in his territory, you become . . . a complicated hostage. You are a thread that leads back to me . . . if you harmed Bonarata or any of his people, you'd give him just cause for starting a war with me . . . we – none of us, not even Bonarata – can afford such a war."

Bran could see when Charles begrudgingly agreed with his assessment. "As it is, Mercy is likely to start a war with the vampires without any help from us. The best we can do is attempt damage control when all the dust settles."

"Go home," Bran told both Anna and Charles. When it looked like they were about to object, he gave his daughter-in-law a gentle push. "We can't make any plans until Adam hears from Bonarata again. That will most likely take several hours. Go home, get rest . . . enjoy each other's company. I will let you know the moment I hear anything – and you will do the same."

"What about you?" Anna's voice was laced with love and concern.

"I'm going to go into my office and find some work to distract me." No one believed him but no one contradicted him either. Charles and Anna allowed themselves to be escorted out the door.

Once they were gone, Bran meandered his way around the house. He found himself leaning in the doorway, staring into his office.

This is the room where I first held Mercy, he thought, this is where she became MINE.