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I carried a picture of Doyle in my back pocket. I’d made a copy and tucked it in my pocket the day I accepted the case. Maybe it was silly, but I wanted to remember what I was risking my life for. A kid.

A nervous, scared kid who wasn’t even sure he could survive the change from human to were.

He had blond hair, sleepy-looking eyes and the promise of what would be a killer smile. So much promise. And what was more…he had kind eyes. The kindness in his eyes hadn’t been lost on me.

The cat shifters needed more kindness in their ranks…not less.

I knew his face now. He was mine. I’d do everything I could to find him and if I couldn’t find him, it would be because there was nothing left to be found.

On the way down to the cold lower level of Banner HQ, I slid my hand into my pocket and tugged out the picture of Doyle, rubbing it with my thumb. I didn’t look at it. There was no need. I knew his face well enough now that I could draw his picture. More than once, I’d found myself doing just that.

He didn’t look like his aunt.

A hand came up and closed over my neck as the elevator doors opened. The people trickled out, but before we could follow them, Damon hit the button to shut the doors and then he just held it. “Are you trying to push yourself into a panic attack?” he asked, dipping his head and growling right into my ear.

I drove my elbow into his stomach. I might as well have been hitting steel for all the good it did. I did it again anyway.

He swore and spun around, shoving my back against the elevator doors.

My hand itched—bad, bad, bad.

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