Chapter 10: Radiant

Wynne's POV

On Friday at noon Winifred Lowell came through the revolving door of Crane Tower with six wolves behind her.

She wore her cream cardigan and carried a covered dish in both hands.

The whole lobby turned to look.

"Dear!" she called, in her warm Sunday voice. "There you are. Oh, look at you, you're thin as a rail."

I was standing at the security desk with a stack of visitor badges.

My knees went soft, the way they had gone soft every Sunday for two years.

Then I remembered the champagne glass and the silver ring, and my knees stopped.

She crossed the marble with her arms open.

The wolves stayed three steps behind her, in grey fleece vests, with their hands folded.

"I'm not going to hug you here, Winifred," I said.

The arms stayed open a moment, and then they came down, gentle and hurt.

"Of course not. I've come to bring you home, that's all. The whole pack misses you terribly."

"Mrs. Lowell."

Dashiell had come out of the elevator with Garrison Vane a pace behind him.

He did not hurry.

"Alpha Crane," Winifred said, and bowed her head a polite inch. "I'm so sorry to drop in. I only came to fetch my runaway."

"We'll speak upstairs," Dashiell said. "You alone. Your people wait here."

"Of course."

Her eyes slid to me.

They were soft and green and very kind.

"Come along, dear," she said. "I'd like you in the room."

The boardroom on the sixtieth floor had four directors in it for the Friday lunch, and none of them had touched their food.

Winifred sat down at the long table and set her dish in front of her.

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