After

Dan's voice sounded hollow and faint, as if he was speaking from far away. Kit could hear every word out of his cellphone.

"Murder?" he said.

"Yup. Wanted for questioning in connection to a murder - his uncle, Charles Callaghan. But then he made a run for it, disappeared, and was bumped of to lead suspect, apparently. Want me to forward you the files?"

"Yeah." Dan swallowed. "That would be great, Martinez." His hand, still gripping the phone and his car keys, fell to his side.

"You knew that man," Morgan whispered. "The one who - pointed a gun at us."

"Who did what?!" Darren choked out.

"You called him by name," Morgan continued, watching Kit with wide eyes. "He said he was going to kill me."

Darren let out a wordless snarl.

I wouldn't have let him. Ever. But Kit didn't say that, couldn't say that.

He had to get away - fast. Had to make them let him go instead of trying to help him. Because they couldn't possibly help him, not against Devlin and his men. Against a bloodthirsty vampire - and who knew how many ruthless criminals.

Ilya had been in Manitou Springs. And Kit felt sick, sick to his stomach.

Because it would not just be Ilya this time. Kit couldn't stay in Rivers Crossing - not now that Devlin had to know, had to have heard from Ilya where he was.

Now that he's coming for me.

And the pack would be caught in the crossfire - unless he left. Right now.

He took one step back and drew his Smith & Wesson 9mm, raising it, taking aim, and flicking the safety off in one practiced, swift motion.

"Give me your car keys, Dan," he ordered in a low voice.

Dan stood stock-still, as if he couldn't believe what was happening, keys dangling form his fingers, limp at his side.

Kit raised his gun fractionally and fired.

The sharp crack of the shot rang through the air, whistling over their heads.

"Give me your car keys, Dan," he growled, staring down the muzzle of his handgun. "These are silver bullets - don't make me shoot you."

"I loved you." Dan's voice sounded broken.

That was the first time Dan had said it out loud - admitted to Kit and to the world that he, he...

Kit felt as if there was crushed glass filling his chest, digging into his lungs with every breath. It made what he had to do that much worse. He forced the words out.

"I was just using you, Dan. I was lying! Some magical exchange of saliva isn't gonna heal me. You can't save me by loving me, and a lifetime of therapy couldn't fix everything that's wrong with me!"

He had to pause and draw a ragged breath to repress a sob trying to wrench it's way out of his chest. But he held the gun steady.

"I needed a place to lay low and rest up. I-I was using all of you. I-It meant nothing to me..." Kit's voice was trembling and he couldn't seem to make it stop.

"You mean nothing to me..." he whispered.

He glanced down at his feet in their faded, duct-taped Converse, then back up, determined.

"I was just using you, Dan!" he shouted, voice cracking, gun steady. "Don't come any closer. Hand over the keys."

"Don't do this," Ronan tried, voice low, empty palms half raised. "Maybe we could still work this out. Just talk to us - "

"It would have never worked out between us, darling," Kit croaked in an exaggerated, dramatic voice, swallowing to wet his dry throat.

"I know you want an omega, but Darren already bit me and that did fuck-all."

He pulled the collar of his worn T-shirt to the side to reveal the bite, pink and fading, when it had been raised and crimson the day before.

Ronan's eyes widened and Morgan gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. Dan's eyes burned into Kit's and he forced himself to stared back.

"He...bit you?" Ronan managed, voice tight.

"Yeah, when we - I mean, by accident. Point is, it did nothing. I don't feel any different. You said there was a bond - something powerful."

"It's not the full moon yet. But if it disappears completely, then you have confirmed something I've long wondered about."

Despite everything, Kit had to ask. He couldn't not ask, even though he could see the pack spreading out, shifting Morgan behind them, trying to surround him.

"What?"

"That it was never a physical surrender after all. That it was a mental one. That if the omega doesn't want it... If you don't accept your Alpha, maybe there is no bond. You might get to choose in the end."

"But I suppose none of that matters now."

"No," Ronan said, dark brown eyes steady, "I guess it doesn't. Dan."

Dan shook his head. "Charlie," he said.

"Dan," Kit said, warning, "Don't try me."

The broad-shouldered werewolf reached out his hands towards Kit - a supplication for answers, for trust, for love.

Kit forced down the emotions inside him yearning to answer Dan's call and fall into his embrace - trust you, love you, hold you.

No. Not safe.

In this moment, now that he had ruined everything, he felt the weight of what he had lost. The worth of the heart Dan had been offering him. Was still offering him.

"Just...explain," Dan whispered, pleading.

Kit stared into his eyes and pain worse than anything he had survived so far shot through his heart.

He shifted the muzzle down in a minuscule movement and squeezed the trigger.

The gun jumped in his hand and the shot rang through his ears. He snatched the keys from Dan's fingers when they fell.

Dan grunted, knees buckling, hands going to his upper thigh, looking so surprised. Like he couldn't believe Kit would ever hurt him. How wrong he had been.

Blood bloomed on his jeans like a giant ruby-coloured poppy, his hands pressing down on the spreading stain. Kit had to escape - but all he wanted was to run over and help Dan. He hesitated.

Darren snarled at him and lunged, claws outstretched.

Kit snapped his eyes away from Dan's - from his crouched, bleeding frame - and vaulted over the hood of the car, yanking open the door.

He held up the gun and Darren flinched back, baring teeth, while Kit turned the ignition and shoved his foot down on the gas, lifting the clutch and taking off with a loud roar, gravel spraying from the wheels.

The blood was already stemming, wound contracting. Morgan stared at it, first aid kit in his hands. He had run in and fetched it the moment Charlie - or whatever his name was - had disappeared.

"It wasn't silver bullets," Morgan said. "If it had been you wouldn't be healing that fast. He was lying."

"Seems he didn't do much else," Darren added bitterly.

"He was with us for weeks," Ronan said, calm and steady gaze fixed on his Beta. "If he had lied about everything then he would have slipped up and contradicted himself. The best liars stick close to the truth."

Charlie had fooled Dan completely. Had lied and used him and put his pack in danger. Had made him fall so completely in love that even now it hurt like a stab in the gut. But he would not get away with it. Dan would find him - and bring him to justice.

"Patch me up, Morgan," he growled. "I'm going after him."

Morgan paled. "Uncle, you're hurt and even if I put on a bandage, how are you supposed to find him - "

"I'll call Martinez now and report my car stolen. Charlie will have to dump it soon or else get stopped. After that he'll be moving slowly - running as a wolf or hitchhiking, maybe stealing a car. I doubt he'll risk public transportation.

"Once I have anything to go by - a family member or a last known address - I'll go there. And I'll catch him and bring him back."

"I could go instead," Ronan offered quietly.

"No. I has to be me."

Ronan nodded. "I'll go to the station. Martinez knows me, and I'll print out the information he found and call you with any updates. I doubt Charlie will want to drive across the Rockies - he's probably heading south through Colorado Springs towards the state line. You should get moving."

Dan nodded, and turned to his brother. "Darren... Can I borrow your truck?"

For one moment Dan thought he might refuse. Then he scoffed. "'Course, brother. Bring that lying bastard back here."

Kit had finally made it to the self-storage facility, after leaving Dan's car at a pit-stop and hitch-hiking the whole day and night, then running as a wolf through the dew-soaked dawn.

He knew it was stupid to come here - someone could trace it to him. But he might never get another chance, and he needed some things. Some pictures at least, if this was his last chance to see them. If he was just quick enough it would be fine, right?

Inside, long concrete corridors lined with corrugated iron doors stretched out in every direction like a maze. Cold 60-watt light shone on him from above. It had been over a year. Where was it again?

It has to be close now. Here?

Something hurtled into his side and bowled him over, sending him crashing into a painted metal door and smacking into the concrete floor. A familiar scent enveloped him and he felt like basking in it even though those large hand were yanking his own back, not gentle anymore.

Kit had fought Darren with the advantage of surprise and momentum and still found himself wrestled down and pinned.

Dan was even taller, stronger, and angrier. An anger that seemed to burn cold where his brother's flamed hot. He had ambushed Kit and had military and police force training - and he wasn't hesitating.

Kit was flat on his face with his arm twisted up behind his back before he knew what had hit him.

And it felt good. This weight on top of him, this comforting scent wrapping around him...his body yearned to relax and surrender control, eyelids fluttering shut.

"Rsssscht!" - the sound of tape being unwound, behind his back.

His eyes snapped open and he writhed, growling.

He forced his knee up, working it under his body and pushing, dislodging Dan. Twisting around onto his back he yanked an arm free and Dan lunged for it, trapping it beside his head and bearing down with his weight until Kit could feel his bones creak.

Kit bucked his hips and tried to turn on his side but Dan dragged his wrist down, gripped both of them in one large fist and picked up a large roll of duct tape off the ground.

Damn. Damn. What had worked with Darren? With Morgan?

Closing his eyes, Kit focused on his emotions, his scent, willing that calming, docile perfume to come and wrap around them. He felt a surge of triumph when he smelt a whiff of honey and milk.

Then sticky duct tape wrapped tight around his wrists, round, round up to his elbows. Trapping his arms in front of him.

No!

He thrashed, control over his pheromones slipping away. They were useless on Dan who couldn't smell them.

Dan pinioned him with his weight, half-turning on top of him to force down Kit's legs, to push his ankles together.

Kit pushed his bound hands in under Dan's shirt, running them up the length of his back, stroking the ripples of firm muscle. Dan froze - and Kit jabbed his elbows into his side where his ribs ended, fighting to free himself.

Dan growled - a deep, menacing sound that Kit had never heard before. With brutal force he shoved Kit down and held him there, not budging an inch. He was incredibly strong.

Kit realized belatedly that Dan had always handled him with extreme care - now he manhandled his body and wrapped the tape around his kicking legs, then flipped him around so that he was looking up into Dan's flushed, pained face.

"Please, Dan." Kit didn't care that he was begging - it wasn't for himself. He had to warn Dan of the danger.

"Don't do this, please. Listen, it's not safe, they're coming -"

Dan's lips silenced him, pressing against his in a desperate kiss. Kit kissed him back just as ferociously, almost forgetting what he had to say, wishing his hands were free so that he could tangle them in Dan's thick brown hair -

He pulled back enough to draw breath.

"You have to listen to me - "

"Rssscht!"

Dan slapped the tape over Kit's mouth, refusing to look into his pleading eyes.

"You're a liar!" he growled, grabbing his shoulders and lifting him clean off the ground so that his bound feet dangled in the air.

"I wanted to listen - I told you how I felt! And you shot me and took off."

Kit's hands were duct-taped together and his mouth covered. He looked at Dan steadily. Kit had never seen his gentle Dan so furious. So... cold. So this was Officer Rivers. The cop. The pack Beta.

All along, from the very first moment - Dan had been kind to him. Kinder and more considerate than anyone had ever been. To see him now - cold, with his jaw clenched, looking with disgust and disappointment at him - Kit would rather die than admit it, but it broke his heart a little bit.

"You're a criminal," Dan continued, voice level. There was no compassion in his voice now, no pardon, only barely repressed passion.

"And you will face justice."