Elena was fast.

I barely got Marcus off my shoulder and onto the ground before her claws were at my throat. I twisted, felt them graze skin instead of tearing through, and came up with my own strike aimed at her ribs.

She blocked it. Of course she did.

We circled each other, both half-shifted, both calculating. Her wolves stayed back, watching. They didn't need to help. Not yet.

"You're good," Elena said. "Better than the reports suggested."

"Gideon's reports are usually wrong about ...