This time there was no silence. The crowd erupted in a roar of applause comparable to a stadium full of Welshmen watching England lose at rugby. Except the rogues weren't cheering for defeat, they were cheering for a display of skill. And if I was feeling especially big-headed, they may have been cheering for me.

The next few minutes were blur of disbelief. Leo appeared to mess up my fur with a hug. Rhys and his father had some sort of wrestling match for the sake of regaining a little of their lost pride. And for the first time in my life, I felt like the king of the castle. The Llewellyn boys were stronger than me and had better instincts for fighting, but now I knew I could beat them, if only because I wanted it more.

What I remember clearest about the time after that fight, was when I spoke to Rhodric after we had shifted and got dressed. He wrapped me in a warm hug and then backed away to grin at me from a safe distance.

"You've come a long way," Rhodric said. "I still remember the headstrong teenager who thought she could do patrol blindfold."

"We did do patrol blindfold," Rhys protested.

"As I recall, you jumped off a cliff and Skye broke a leg."

"True," I admitted. "But we did chase off half a dozen trespassers. We got the job done in the end."

"Ah, to be young," Rhodric sighed. "When the ends always justify the means and it feels like nothing can harm you. It's a pity we all have to grow up."

"Growing up always seems like a great idea until you do it," I agreed.

"Well, either way, I'm proud of you both. You know you're raising kids right when they turn around and kick your ass," Rhodric said seriously. He added a wink, and suddenly all my triumph drained away.

He had done it flawlessly: the surprise, the pride, the grudging smile. It was too flawless. Had he let me win?

Had. he. let. me. win?

Of-bloody-course he had.

Rhodric read all of that on my face. If I had harboured any doubts, they would have been chased away when his eyes narrowed in irritation. He hadn't wanted me to know, had he? Bastard.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," I replied.

"Skye!" Ollie was calling me. "The prisoners have been waiting in the courtyard for an hour. I approve of some combat training as much as the next guy, but we've had seven escape attempts already. Two of them almost worked."

"So chain them to the pillars," I said. "I'm coming anyway."

I looked back at Rhodric, raising an eyebrow. Annoyed as I was, I liked having him present at the hearings, even if he did nothing but make snarky remarks. He was like a walking, talking textbook about how to handle rogues. Today, he shook his head.

"I'm meeting Vik Lloyd for a drink," Rhodric said lazily. "Don't have too much fun without me."

The courtyard was packed, as it always was on court days. Hmm ... courtyard. I'd never noticed that before. Rows of witnesses and victims took up the right side, while the left was a mess of guards struggling to contain their prisoners.

The idea of chaining prisoners to the pillars got me thinking about the time I had been chained to a pillar. On the off chance that it was still there, I took a slight detour to examine the base of a particularly familiar spur of rock. My message to Leo was jaded and weatherworn, but it remained clear against the dark stone.

We can protect her.

With the benefit of hindsight, I now knew I had been talking about myself. Ah, irony.

An arm circled around my waist. Leo was on my right side, looking down at the engraving with an expression of amusement. Then there was someone on my left as well. Rhys's arm was slung lazily over my shoulder. The two most important men in my life, my mate and my brother.

"You know, I may not have found her, but I certainly protected her," Rhys pointed out.

"Screw that," I said. "I protected myself."

Ollie was hovering impatiently. I didn't feel like keeping him waiting, so I shoved both boys away from me and strode to my pride of place at the front of the court. I settled on the carved wooden chair that some people seemed to equate to a throne. Leo and Rhys fell in as bodyguards, wearing identical smiles.

"Who's first?" I asked.

"This is some scumbag who murdered some other scumbag," Kevin explained loudly as a filthy middle-aged man was nudged forwards. We had chosen the older twin as court announcer because of his loud voice and comical abilities.

"There any proof?"

"If you consider fifteen eyewitnesses sufficient proof. You can either listen to all of them or you just take my word for it," Kevin replied.

"I confess anyway," the filthy man piped up.

"Shut your mouth," I snapped at him. With fifteen witnesses, I wouldn't need a confession to know he was guilty. "Did the scumbag deserve it?"

"He cheated me at cards," the murderer replied.

"Everyone here cheats at cards," I explained to him. "If it bothers you, don't bet with real money. I strongly suggest using minstrels. They make excellent chips and don't melt in your hands. Now seeing as that is obviously not a valid reason for ending someone's life, I'm going to have to sentence you. Kevin, what is the traditional werewolf punishment for cold blooded first-degree murder?"

"I believe that would be either banishment or the death penalty," Kevin replied.

I leant forwards in my chair, drumming my fingers on the solid wood. "Well, we obviously can't banish you. Banished werewolves end up as rogues and you've already been there, screwed up that."

"You're going to kill me? Just 'cause I stuck a fork into a good-for-nothing-cheater's brain?" The murderer suddenly sounded alarmed.

I laughed, trying to make light of the situation. "Oh no. That does seem a little harsh, doesn't it? We could banish you from rogue society, I suppose. You might get lonely, though. Whereas at Corwen, you'd have loads of like-minded friends..."

Corwen had been built a few months ago as a way of housing our feral prisoners. It was convenient to have them all in one place, so that women looking for their mates wouldn't have to tour each pack's prison in turn. It was based in an old industrial unit, and as part of my peace deal with the packs, I could send rogues there. It wasn't something I did lightly.

"I don't want to go to bloody Corwen," he snapped.

"Punishments aren't supposed to be fun," I said shortly. "Be glad I'm not hanging you. All in favour?"

The onlookers raised their hands in a near-total consensus.

I nodded at them. "Cool. Let's do that."

"But... You can't! That's not—"

The man didn't stop complaining until he was physically dragged from the courtyard.

The second prisoner didn't struggle or beg as he was hauled to his feet and thrown at mine. He allowed them to move him with a quiet and altogether different sort of protest. It was in his eyes — seething anger and resentment for his chains, his guards, and for me.

I crossed my legs with a lazy grace. "What did this one do?"

Kyle didn't make light of this accusation. "He was spotted crossing the border with a van full of human prisoners, heading west. Some of our raiders caught him as he came back for more."

Heading so west, so coming from the east. The same direction Malcolm had been sighted in. Coincidence? I thought not. I didn't bother hiding my disgust for the slaver. Some werewolves considered us the superior species and thought they could do what they wanted with humans. "And the prisoners?"

"Missing. The van was empty."

I let out a frustrated growl. If he had already traded them off, we had very little chance of recovering them. I rose to my feet and considered the man kneeling before me. He didn't seem all that bothered. Only a guilty man could look bored at his own trial.

"Kill this one. Goddess knows how many lives he has destroyed," I said with all the authority of an executioner. Maybe it would scare him into telling me what he knew.

"You don't want to be doing that," the slaver said.

Ah, good. We had a squealer. "And why not?" I asked, pretending to fall straight into his trap.

"Because then the humans' deaths will be on your hands," he announced. How ridiculously predictable.

"Oooh, you've got me," I muttered sarcastically. "I spare your life and you betray your fellow criminals like a common rat? Someone's watched a few too many movies. The real world doesn't work like that, buddy."

"So you want to let them die?" he asked.

"I'm a rogue. What do I care for a few puny humans?" I lied. "What I'd like to know is who you work for. And you're going to tell me."

"I'm bargaining for that information, not giving it away."

I folded my arms, brushing a finger across the hilt of my switchblade as I did so. "You still don't get it, do you? If you want any chance of surviving the next week, you shouldn't be bargaining. You should be begging."

Uncertainty flickered through the prisoner's eyes. At least it was an emotion other than emptiness. Deciding it was time to pull out the big guns, I jerked a thumb in Rhys's direction. "Alright, we'll do this the hard way. I'll give you a few days to get properly acquainted with Rhys, and then we'll see if you feel like talking. Although I should warn you, my brother doesn't exactly play nice."

"Oh, come on, why am I always the psychotic torturer?" Rhys complained. "Isn't it Leo's turn yet?"

"Leo's too friendly to torture anyone," I replied. My mate nodded smugly at him.

The slaver looked between the three of us, totally weirded out. "Fine. There's a guy on the edge of the Silverstones who buys as many humans as I can get. They like young, healthy ones. I met the mastermind behind it all just once. Some old Scottish man."

"Malcolm," I smirked, while my mind sang liar. It made absolutely no sense that a hunter would work with werewolves to capture humans. "We've got him now."

Let him think I was swallowing his lies.

"Yeah, that might've been his name. Anyway, I don't have the faintest clue what they do with the humans I bring, but chances are they'll still be in the warehouse on the edge of Nantmor," the slaver finished bitterly. "Now tell your friends to let me go."

"Let you go?" I laughed. "Not quite. We'll look at this warehouse, and then we'll decide whether to kill you or send you to rot in Corwen."

Once again, the slaver stayed in stony silence. His eyes were saying everything that the murderer from earlier had screamed. I'll kill you for this.

You can get in line, was my silent reply.

"Ollie, take my place. I have something very important to attend to," I ordered, striding down the narrow aisle to exit the castle. Court could wait or be delegated, this could not.

A jerk of my head was all it took to get the boys to follow me. Together, the three of us stopped by the armoury. I picked up the worn duffel bag that contained my armour and most of our weapons.

From there, Rhys armed himself and split off to round up his fighters. No words were necessary; they both knew what I was going to do. Leo and I organised a ride in some of the company rovers. Yet another recent purchase I had made.

Twenty of us made the journey to Nantmor, a small town in the middle of Snowdonia. From there, it wasn't hard to pick out the single warehouse on the outskirts. What took a little more time was surrounding the building without being seen. With hedgerows and sheep for cover, the fighters lay in the muddy ditches and waited for the order to move in. I wasn't about to let any of Malcolm's men get away.

It might have been an ambush. I knew that the prisoner must have been lying about Malcolm's involvement, at the very least. However it was unlikely he had been able to warn whoever was in this warehouse that we were coming.

The warehouse didn't take much watching. There were thirteen werewolves inside. I could smell each and every one of them. An unlucky number, but hopefully not for us. I lifted a hand in signal when I was sure no one was on the lookout. The circle slowly closed, sealing the trap.

I had deliberately placed Rhys on the opposite side of the warehouse, to make sure we had an equal spread of good fighters. If the shifters noticed a weakness in any part of the circle, they would try and cut a path out. Leo on the other hand, was right next to me, if only because mates fight better together. And I didn't want to be lonely.

Drawing a long hunting knife, I made straight for the front door. We got within spitting distance before raised voices from inside told me we had been spotted. I kept the blade up and ready as Leo kicked in the front door. A man swung an axe at my throat, but the hunting knife twisted to meet him in mid-air. At the same time, my archers and everyone in the vicinity with a throwing knife let loose. The shifter's body hit the floor with more holes than a golf pitch.

I pressed my back against Leo's as I sparred with a man who brandished a shovel, of all things. Hardly a deadly weapon by our standards. The short wave of attackers that followed was dealt with swiftly and cleanly. Shouting from the other side of the warehouse told me that Rhys was fighting a battle of his own. Then all too soon, the chaos of battle settled to victory.

"You four, watch the entrance," I ordered, pointing at the closest group of shifters.

The rest of my ragtag band followed me into the darkness of the warehouse. The smell alone made me feel sick. Weeks' worth of vomit and other, nastier substances. Cages lined both walls, barely large enough for a person to stand up in.

The worst part was the people who gazed at me from behind rough bars. Their faces were hollow, empty. Just the fact that none of them cried for help would haunt me for a long time. Did we really look so similar to their captors?

A flicker of movement had us all raising our weapons again. But it was just Rhys and his half of the fighters, filing in from the other side. My brother had rarely looked so dangerous, splattered in blood and grinning like a hellion. That is, until he took in the interior of the warehouse. Then his smile faded so fast it seemed to fall off his face.

"That's far enough," a sharp voice called.

I span, palming a throwing knife. There was a distinct lack of a target, as the man who had spoken was using a human for a shield. My group managed to take another three steps before he lifted a knife to the girl's throat. She threw me a pleading look, all the while stopping the blade slicing through her neck with her bare hands. From the left, Rhys's sharp intake of breath told me there was something wrong.

"I said, that's far enough. Now drop your weapons or the girl dies."

"You think we care?" I asked, bluffing again. "We're just here to kill all the shifters. I don't really give a damn what happens to this human filth."

If he thought his hostage was worthless, he would either kill her or let her go. I was banking on the second. While I may want to save the girl, the lives of my raiders came first. With the girl as leverage, he could disarm and kill us all.

"Skye, we have a problem," Rhys mind-linked me. There was a look of pure, untamed anger in his eyes I hadn't quite expected.

"What's wrong?" I replied. I shouldn't have had to ask, and even as I sent the mind-link, I had begun to piece together exactly what the problem was.

"She's my mate."