“You can make it,” Kenzie told him. “It’s like jumping up and grabbing the zip line as it goes down. Don’t think I didn’t see you do that.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Ryan said, voice breaking. “They dared me, and I’m leader’s son. I had to.”

“I know. But I saw you succeed. You jumped up and grabbed that bar and rode it down. This is the same thing.”

It wasn’t at all the same, but Kenzie didn’t know what else to say to him. If she inched any farther, she’d be diving face-first into the bog. Then Brigid would have to find a way to haul them both out before they drowned.

“Come on, son,” Kenzie said, voice shaking. “Let’s get out of here, find your dad, and then kick some anthropology professor ass.”

Ryan sucked in a breath, coughing when mud came with it. He threw himself forward, let go of the branch, and scrabbled frantically for Kenzie’s hands.

He missed one; Kenzie caught him with the other. Her arm jarred with the impact, her aching fingers wanting to jerk open.

Kenzie made herself clamp down on Ryan’s wrist. She swung her other arm around and fixed her hold on the back of his neck, his scruff if he’d been wolf. She hauled him up, the bog releasing him slowly, slowly.

The mud sucked at him greedily, not wanting to let go of a life. Kenzie didn’t think a patch of mud could be sentient—then again, around here, who knew?

With a boiling, sucking sound, the bog abruptly released Ryan. The sudden lack of resistance sent Kenzie rolling backward, Ryan in her arms.

She sat up, clinging to him and bawling like a baby. Kenzie rocked him, her son, her precious cub, who was real, filthy, and stinking like rotting vegetation.

“It’s okay.” Ryan patted Kenzie, though he was sniffling back tears himself. “I’m all right, Mom. We’re all right. What took you so long?”

Brigid was down on one knee next to them. “She thought you were an illusion. This place is full of them.”

Ryan lifted his head and stared at Brigid with wet eyes. “Hey, did you know there was a Fae next to us? I’ve never seen one before.” He wrinkled his nose. “Do they all smell this bad?”

Brigid frowned, her long braids touching Ryan as she leaned to him. “You have no room to speak, young offspring.”

“You don’t, you know,” Kenzie said to Ryan, holding him close again. “You stink something terrible.”

Ryan looked offended, and Kenzie started crying again. This was her son; he was alive and with her. Hope broke through her despair, and her heart warmed anew. They’d get through this. And home. They had to.

* * *

Bowman kept moving because he knew that if he stopped, he’d die. Having both Kenzie and his son ripped from him had made the world grow surreal, outlines flowing and blurring into unimportant shapes.

Voices around him were hollow as his Shifters continued to search for a way into the mists.

Gil, horrified: “I couldn’t hold on to him. Something yanked him from me. I’m so sorry.”

Cade: “Eric called. His trackers are en route.”

Bowman had heard his phone ring but hadn’t had the strength to answer it. Eric would know to call Bowman’s second if Bowman didn’t respond.

Jamie: “What do you want us to do with all this stuff?”

There was a pile of Turner’s crap everywhere. “Keep going through it,” Bowman heard himself say. “There might be something to tell us how to get in to save Kenzie.”

He was running out of belief. All he knew was that Turner had somehow managed to trap his mate and cub, and he might never see them again. Bowman couldn’t face that—everything in him wanted to stop and howl, unceasing, until he died.

I’m here. I love you, her voice had called in his dreams.

I love you, Kenzie, came his answer, fierce and from his gut. I love you with everything I am, everything I have.

Why the hell didn’t I tell you that before?

Because he was dumb-ass stupid, that was why. Bowman had been so fixed on the fucking mate bond, and on proving that he and Kenzie could hold Shiftertown together without it, that he had never acknowledged what she truly was to him.

Everything.

“I think I know why Ryan so easily went in.” Cristian stood next to Bowman, his voice way too calm. “He picked up the sword and understood its connection to the mists. When he dropped the sword inside, it called to him, compelling Ryan to it.” He fixed Bowman with a steady gaze from his wolf-gold eyes. “Ryan is very special. It could be that he will be picked at the next Choosing.”

Bowman swung on him. “Screw that. No way is my son going to be a Guardian.”

“If the Goddess touches him, he will have no choice.”

Pierce gave a Feline growl. “Yeah, but Choosings only take place when the former Guardian dies. I’m not that old yet. You don’t have anything to worry about, Bowman.”

Cristian shrugged and didn’t argue. Bowman knew damn well that it wouldn’t matter what he wanted, or what Cristian wanted, or even what Ryan wanted at a Choosing. If the Goddess decided that Ryan should take up the sword and become the Guardian, there was nothing any of them could do about it.

Bowman hoped Cristian was wrong—Guardians were revered, but they were also, very politely, shunned. Pierce took it in his stride, but Ryan wasn’t cut out to be a loner.

“Besides,” Bowman said out loud, “he’s going to be leader, not Guardian.”