Arthur set his fork down.
The small, polite clink of silver on porcelain was louder than any shout.
He did not raise his voice. He did not have to. The aura that rolled out of the head of the table belonged to the wolf who had once held two packs and an empire by the throat, and it landed on me like a mountain. My legs buckled. I caught the edge of the table with both hands and barely kept my body upright.
"So," Arthur said, very softly. "You are confirming that the liquid in that vial is, in fact, an illegal neural inhibitor."
"No." My voice was already a whisper. I hadn't realized I was crying. "No, Arthur, it isn't like that. I was teasing him. It was a joke. A silly little joke between the two of us."
"Catherine." He folded his hands over the silver head of his cane. "If there was
